I Spent a Bunch of Money on Pens and I Don’t Regret It At All

Many of you reading this know that I’ve carried the same blue medium-sized style Bic pen in my pocket since high school.  It’s hands-down my preferred writing implement for both creative work and all those little notes and lists I tend to write in my daily life (though not for Day Job-related tasks, as I talked about last summer).

I keep a handful of fancier pens I use for special notes or formal occasions, though for regular writing, I just plain feel better using something familiar.  I love the weight of these pens, their simple style, the way their blue ink stands out against printed black type when marking drafts, and even the way I can cleanly slide their caps off with one hand.

 

 

That’s why I went through a small but significant crisis back in the late 2000s when Bic changed their standard pen design to a decidedly uglier clear model, and the question arose as to what I was going to do about it.

 

The Hunt for The Right Writing Implement

By early 2013 the standard white Bic had completely disappeared from stores, and my last remaining rations were running low.  I tried using click pens, blue Papermates, the newer clear Bics, and even some pens I’d picked up in Japan, but nothing felt right, and I found myself distracted by the presence of something unfamiliar in my hand as I worked.

When I write, I want to focus completely on the writing process and not worry about the tools I’m using, since being comfortable with my tools makes them invisible, freeing my mind for more important things.  By trying out new pens and experiencing that distraction, I realized how much my trademark pens really mean to me.

I kept up my search until finally, after scouring page after page of eBay search results, I found the model I was looking for—seven or so bucks per box from a seller in South Korea, with an extended overseas shipping time.

I thought about it for maybe five seconds and then ordered six boxes.  This was a decent sum of money for me at the time, since my student loans were higher back then and I was barely making ends meet with my earnings as a school secretary.  Still, it didn’t feel like an unwise decision because having those pens felt necessary, and I knew I could work better and more comfortably with them at my side.

 

 

What Happened When the South Korean Pens Ran Out

The South Korean Bics turned out to be an inferior bootleg model—instead of raised letters and the traditional label, these pens were marked with some cheap ink and an ugly UPC symbol that smudged off after a few days of use, leaving behind a plain white surface.  The ink itself also seemed inferior, and would leak and smudge as the pen neared its last legs.  I felt like I’d gotten the B- version of what I’d wanted, but it was better than nothing, and I used the hell out of every pen in those six boxes.

Now fast forward to a few months ago—I was nearing the end of my final box and again going through a crisis: should I stay loyal to my comfortingly familiar Bic model from the ‘90s that I’d likely never be able to find again, or join the rest of the planet who just grabs whatever’s within easy reach?  For starters, I didn’t know whether the South Korean seller was still active or if any of the old Bics were still kicking around, but I figured it was worth a try.

Another few pages of eBay scouring delivered some unexpected success: a handful of sellers, also in South Korea, were offering the standard white Bics in multiple colors.  To test the waters, I messaged a few of them asking whether the letters were raised (so they wouldn’t rub off!), and after finding that they were, placed orders with two different sellers (8 boxes, $58 total) to see what I could get.

 

 

One seller came through with the exact raised lettering I was used to from back in the day, though the other sent a few boxes of this other, curvier style I’d never seen before.  Neither logo rubbed off after use, so I was happy to get both.

However, something was still nagging at me—the eight boxes of Bics (12 pens per box, 96 pens total) were bound to last me a few more years, but what was I going to do when they ran out?  What would happen when the South Korean supply finally dried up?  Were my writing habits doomed to the whimsy of a few Asian resellers offering Made in Mexico Bics that had likely been sitting in some warehouse since the ‘90s?

I sent another message to the seller who’d sold me the standard pens asking about a volume discount.  He offered me fifteen boxes for just under a hundred bucks, and I took it.

This wasn’t a decision I made lightly.  I agonized over whether I was wasting money, hoarding old pens like a crazed reality TV family or a character I saw on Degrassi once, and going to absurd lengths to rekindle the past when my time could have been spent doing something else.  When all was said and done, though, I didn’t regret my decision—I knew that the comfort of not worrying plus the added focus those pens bring to my daily life was worth more than the $155 I paid.  I also realized that the $155 wasn’t going to break my bank account even on my break between Day Jobs, so it didn’t feel like a risky expenditure.

 

 

A Little Bonus…

The pens arrived a few weeks later, though when I checked the boxes to see what I’d gotten, I found that eight of them were in the same curved style I’d received from the other seller.  This normally wouldn’t have bothered me, except that I’d SPECIFICALLY asked the seller about the lettering design and they’d even sent a picture to assure me that all of their pens were exactly the same as the photo on the box.

So I messaged the seller back with pictures asking what they planned to do about the problem.  They offered me a refund or an exchange, though when I balked at the international shipping, they caved, and in a measure that went above and beyond the call of duty, they three-day UPSed me eight new boxes of the standard style from South Korea without asking for the other pens back.

This meant that when all was said and done I walked away with 31 boxes of Bics, having spent a total of $155, or five bucks per box.  Since the last six boxes I’d bought had lasted 5 years, these 31 boxes should then last me more than 25 years, or until I’m near the end of my 50s.

Being that old is kind of scary to think about for a lot of reasons, but at least I won’t have to worry about buying new pens for a long-ass time.

 

Bottom Line: Spend Money on the Things That Help You in Meaningful Ways

I went through a similar issue last month when I found out that At-a-Glance had run out of the black 2020 edition of my all-time favorite schedule book that I’ve been using for the last five years, and though I could have gotten it in cyan or light purple, instead I spent an hour and a half scouring the internet for the black one, finally finding it under a different planner number (70-6D1005-19) at Amazon and Office Depot.

I wouldn’t spend all that time, trouble, or money on these things unless I really believed in what they bring to my work—the pens and planner both.  I feel like I’m at my best when I’m using them, and since that feeling’s so important and hard to come by, it’s worth more than the money and time spent.  Thus, if you have a tool, material, workplace, or accessory that helps you in your creative work, don’t be afraid to go that extra mile to pick it up or let anyone pressure you to do otherwise—provided that doing so doesn’t interfere with your goals too much ;-)

 

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