Ever since I was a kid, I loved to fiddle around with staplers. Playing with the automatic ones and doing dumb stuff like any child would opening the manual ones and swinging it around, stuff like that. One of my favorite things to do was to open up a new strip of staples and break them apart before putting them in. Running my fingers through the staples, counting them and breaking them apart…love it. There are 210 staples in a standard strip and sometimes I’d break off each individual one until my fingers hurt. I’ve even found strips with 209 and 211 a few times.


This progressed from me messing around with staples in Ms. Grady’s second grade class, to buying a box of staples every other pay day to play with, to literally having a collection of different brands and sizes of staples in my college dorm to break apart. I had a problem, but no one was hurt, so who cares? Well…


Fast forward to present day. I am a functioning middle-class adult with a wife and two children. I have a home, a normal car, an office job. I am by all accounts a normal human being… I still love staples. Working in an office with a supply room full of staples was a problem. I’d spend my lunch break in the room opening boxes and breaking apart staples to get my fix before returning to work. It got so bad over the course of a couple years that my boss changed our supplier because the boxes all had broken apart staples and were sometimes ripped.


So I had to stop doing that…I turned to Amazon first, buying 10 boxes of staples at a time for about 20 bucks a pop. It wasn’t enough. I went to 20, then 40. My wife got curious then and asked “why are you buying all of these boxes of staples”. But I brushed it off as a work issue that I’d get reimbursed for and knew I had to change my methods.


Over the course of a few months I enabled myself…I started using cash only at different office supply stores around my town and neighboring towns. I would sit in my car and break apart staples before going to the next store. I began to stay out late and tell my wife I would be home soon, so I could go buy more staples from different stores. I opened up a new credit card to put online so she wouldn’t know but she caught it in the mail. She got suspicious because things weren’t adding up.


This past Thursday after one of my “late nights” I get home with a trunk full of broken staples and 10 freshly broken boxes in my passenger seat to see my parents cars at my house. I walked in and everyone is sitting around like its an intervention. Because it is.


My wife asked if there was anything I wanted to tell them, and to tell the truth about my problem. I sat down and kept saying “what are you talking about” until my mom said “honey, we saw the pictures”. Then my wife tells me that my late nights, excuses, and general weirdness about the credit card, and some other little things made her hire a private investigator. This man followed me around to office supply stores and watched me “do something” with what I had in the bag from multiple stores. It basically looked like I was a drug runner for Office Depot who was using some of the product for myself. At this point my wife started to cry and my dad shook his head. I had to come clean and all I could muster was


“I…I like staples.”


The WTF looks I got afterwards turned into disbelief, then concern, then fits of laughter when I showed them my car….I came clean. I backed this up by showing my secret stash of used staples in my attic and explained the purchases on the card to my wife. Right now my only concern is my dad. He didn’t laugh – just kind of shook his head continually in disappointment without saying a word.


Believe it or not, I think therapy or addiction meetings may help, as my wife gave me these suggestions the day after. I may or may not do that, but the good news is I now can have a “staple hour” once I get home and my budget for staples is allowed by the wife for now.