Air Can-ada

Oh man, does it feel good to wield so much firepower.

Some might think I have the job of a desk jockey. All of my work can be done in relative safety, protected by an L-shaped shield of faux mahogany furniture. There’s a highly unlikely chance of a natural disaster here in suburban Virginia, I don’t have to operate with flames of death licking my heels, and wild animals do not roam freely at my feet. But these are not the reasons why I feel safe atop my ergonomically-compliant swivel perch.

It’s because I have my finger on the trigger.

That’s right, people. I’m armed and oftentimes dangerous. They say that police officers and soldiers have an increased sense of self-confidence when they know they have the ability to shoot to kill, and now I know exactly what they mean. I deal with my fair share of idiots during the day, and because of this, I’ve perfected a “It appears that I’m listening to you, but in reality I’m naming all the NHL teams alphabetically to pass the time in my head” face. Now, I can end these incessant sessions (that never allow me to finish with Toronto - Vancouver – Washington), with a quick move to my holster and a point blank blast –

Of canned air.

On Thursday, I decided it was time to do a little tidying up at my desk. Filing had been long overdue; Post-its littered the landscape endlessly. There’s nothing more satisfying to coming in on a Monday morning to a clean, organized desk. (For Nordberg, this comes as no surprise.) In order to get a thorough cleaning, however, I needed to borrow some supplies from the office supply cabinet.

The Smith and Wesson of the cylindrically compressed air gun rack, Office Max Gas Duster is not just a weapon – it’s a work of art. The cold steel of the can pressed against your palm as you take aim at dust, dirt, and loose paper clips gives you the strength of ten men, and the cleanliness of ten women. The long red pressure-sensitive trigger begs to be fired, and the tiny black straw that protrudes forth from the muzzle is a sight to be seen.

(Or a substitute for a coffee stirrer. One of the two.)

It started innocently enough, as I blasted cold jets of air from the can into the crevices between the keys on my keyboard. As the ‘board was vacated by all foreign substances, I’d like to say that my job was done. That justice was served. That cleanliness is next to godliness. But then the power, well, it just took over.

Cans of air have so many uses. They can remove Post-It notes from the desk and into the trash can. They can launch paper clips into the hallway on the heels of lesser-liked coworkers. You can file paper into neat piles using the same principles of physic that govern the sport of air hockey. What about blowing the air can into the phone to convince a vendor that you can’t find their invoice in the middle of a hurricane? Or dusting crumbs off the front of your desk from that English muffin you wolfed.

Or you can get creative…

As our intern nervously told me his vacation plans for the summer, I sat before him with one hand resting calm on the desk on the other on the trigger of my air cannon. Turns out he’ll be taking off two non-consecutive hours in October to go to the beach.

Works like a charm.