For the Good of the Company
by Jennifer Lynn Krohn
No one saw the first paperclip hung on the chain-link fence surrounding our office building—I doubt anyone saw the first 50 except, of course, for the criminal who placed them there. We imagine that it started after the HR email with the subject line “THEFT!!!!!!!!!” It read, “It has been drawn to our attention that employees have recently felt entitled to the company’s property. While you may think that no one would miss a stapler, a pen, or even a paperclip, these small things add up. Remember if you take these things for personal use, you are a thief. If you’re discovered stealing company property, you will be immediately terminated.”
Or maybe it was after Mr. Peterson was fired. He’d been with the company for 35 years, and the managers were wondering when he would finally retire. He’d placed a pen in his pocket in the morning and then, at the end of the day, he did not return it to his desk. He claimed that he’d forgotten that it was there. The company, in an act of benevolence, decided not to press charges.
Ms. Gutierrez was the first to notice the paperclips. That morning as she parked her car, she saw them crowded next to each other and framing one 5-inch square of the fence. They reminded her of how she used to make keychains with safety pins and beads when she was a child. She mentioned this as she stood in line for the coffee vending machine. Over the next few weeks, we noticed the paperclips grow in numbers. Square after square framed by metal that shook like flecks of tinsel.
Mr. White was fired for spending too much time in the bathroom. HR explained that since they were paying him for that time, he was technically stealing from the company by not working. “Am I supposed to wear a diaper?” he yelled at HR and his manager.
“How you handle your bodily functions is not our problem.”
At this point, the paperclip wall started to grow faster.
Ms. Allen was fired for using a post-it note to make a grocery list.
Ms. Whitney was fired for filling her water bottle from the tap. “There is no need to use the company’s resources when the vending machines have bottled water,” HR explained.
Mr. Rodriguez was fired for using too much toilet paper. “How do you know how much toilet paper I’m using?” he asked. They never answered his question.
Six square feet of fence were now covered in paperclips. We were sure that someone in management or HR would notice, but they had all been assigned parking spaces closer to the building. Also, they were distracted by two other crimes: a person going into the bathrooms and leaving the faucets running at full blast racking up the company’s water bill, and someone pooping in the wastepaper baskets.
Mr. Wang was fired for taking a peppermint from the receptionist desk before he met with a client.
Ms. Taggart was fired for plugging her cell phone charger into a wall outlet in her cubicle.
Tom, no one actually knew his last name, was fired for the pooping thing.
The higher-ups finally noticed the paperclips. The entire back fence was now covered in the shivering metal. To curb this vandalism, a new policy was put in place: you needed a note from your supervisor for every office supply. Every pen, paperclip, and staple had to be signed for. Once you were done using it, you had to return the paperclip, the pen, and even the staple. People started to bring their own supplies rather than deal with the bureaucracy. Ms. Gutierrez was fired for using her own stapler and staples. Ms. Davis for using her own pens. Mr. Hunt for writing notes on his arm rather than checking out a legal pad. The company only allowed the use of approved equipment.
The raid occurred after Ms. Black was fired for bringing her own toilet paper. Even though it was Labor Day, the office still required us to be there. As we drove into the parking lot, we saw the entire fence shimmer. It was completely covered in millions if not billions of paperclips. We parked our cars without looking at the fence and walked quietly to our desks. The manager in charge of the stockroom unlocked it, walked in, and screamed. An hour later we received the email with the subject “BE A HERO!!!” In the body, it explained that someone had broken into the stockroom and stolen office supplies. It did not state what was stolen, only that it was the duty of loyal employees to report this miscreant. It was only in the later angrier emails that we learned nothing was stolen but paperclips. Finally, at 4pm an email was sent stating that “If the criminal doesn’t turn him/herself in by 5pm everyone is fired.”
During that hour no one worked. We cleaned out our email. Some of us packed up our belongings. People chatted with each other.
When a supervisor yelled at us to get back to work, we turned on him and asked “Why are you getting in the way of our investigation? Did you steal the paperclips?” At 5 o’clock on the dot, everyone from janitors to managers received an email stating that we had been let go for our lack of loyalty.
As we walked out, we grabbed pens and printing paper. Staplers and hole punches. Binders and scotch tape. Then Mr. Sullivan picked up his chair. People took the blinds off the windows. Disassembled cubicles. Rolled up rugs. We helped each other carry computers and printers to our trunks. By the time we were gone, nothing was left. The building stood empty, surrounded by the fence made of millions and millions of shivering paperclips.
Jennifer Lynn Krohn (she/her) was born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She earned her MFA from the University of New Mexico, and she currently teaches English at Central New Mexico Community College. She has published work in The Pinch, Storm Cellar, Pleiades, and The Normal School among others.
