magical pen writing instrument
magical pen writing instrument

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magical pen writing instrument
How Reginald Calvington Became Rich and Influential With a Simple Writing Instrument

How does a man rise above his failings in his job, his career, even his life? When buffeted by the viscidities of fortune how can anyone pull themselves from the gutter and rebuild their life? In the case of Reginald Calvington, the answer lies in a magical fountain pen sold to him by a mysterious stationery salesman. Down on his luck, with the help of the pen Reginald began to absorb business knowledge like Indian Ink on a designer shirt.

magical pen writing instrument
Reginald Calvington asks his pen what he should do about today's stock prices.

Reginald was an acknowledged failure on that fateful Friday. He had spent most of the evening at his favourite watering hole, Delaney's Pub, crying into his imported Bohemian beer. He was about to get fired as a day trader for the Empire Group if he didn't meet his quota by Monday at noon. He had blown most of his money on single malt whiskey and special edition hockey cards that weren't worth the money he had spent. His luxury condo was double-mortgaged, the lease on his Jaguar defaulted on Thursday, and he was maxed-out on all his credit cards.

Did we mention that his wife had left him for his best friend and his kids refused to speak to him?

But outside of the bar, a curious old man had set up a stall selling peculiar writing instruments, baubles, and other novelties.

"I have exactly what you need," said the decrepit-looking old man, pulling out a pair of scissors. "Oh wait," he said, "that was for someone else." He rummaged in his pockets some more before handing Reginald a Sheaffer Ultra-Click 2000, a premiere executive writing instrument. At that very same moment a booming clap of thunder rumbled through the air, two dogs howled, and a woman screamed in the distance.

"That'll be $1.50," said the old man, and more thunder pealed.

Reginald, already tipsy from the alcohol tossed the change in his pocket to the old man and took the pen.

As soon as he picked it up he knew it was different. Special. It was weighty. Not a light Bic or cheap Office Stationery equipment. This was a real instrument. Without realizing it, Reginald held his head a little higher, straightened his back and walked with purpose back home instead of shuffling like the downtrodden small cog that he was.

Over the weekend Reginald read the financial papers thoroughly, cover to cover. He didn't turn on the TV, and the six-pack stayed un-opened in the fridge. Instead, with pen in hand, Reginald marked up the interesting stock moves, potential small-cap interests and money manager information. He reread all his university economic textbooks and reacquainted himself with subjects and theories he had long regarded as a load of "hooey."

On Monday morning instead of his usual four cups of coffee with greasy bacon and acrymilide-laced hash browns, Reginald fixed himself a fruit salad using organic in-season foods. He took the time to clean the wax out of his ears and clip his toenails. He wore a good suit--and he took his new pen to work with him.

At work his first order of business was to tear down all the Dilbert cartoons taped and tacked around his cubicle. At nine o'clock sharp he was on the phone, dialing for dollars, sounding sharp and looking good. With the pen tucked behind his ear the words flowed easily from his mouth: silver, magical words like 'synergistic appraisal of the opportunities'. Tapping the pen on financial reports the right quotes and prices jumped off the page at him--opportunities and good buys looked like they were printed in bold ink that only Reginald could see. By 10:30 he had reached his quota. By noon he had sold more than the entire previous quarter.

He took a brief half-hour break at lunch for a salad (greens and vegetables) and refreshing walk, and was back on the phone by 1 pm. When his boss called him in for his annual review--where he would normally have been fired for his miserable performance--Reginald was the top-selling trader of the Empire Group. Fortunately, his manager had access to up-to-date reports. He asked Reginald what was going on? Was he getting laid or something?

Reginald said all the right things, smiled and laughed at all the right times, and made his manager feel warm and fuzzy--without having to get on his knees. He walked out of the office with a big fat raise--and his pen still in his pocket.

Things just kept getting better for Reginald after that. He dumped the Jag and bought a Porsche. He dumped his wife and got a trophy girlfriend who really was in love with him. His kids realized the error of their ways and opened up to Reginald about their hopes and fears in ways he never thought possible. He bought a cottage in the country. He exercised and ate well. He saved money for a rainy day.

And then, the pen ran out of ink.

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