Pebble in the Shoe of a Sometimes Stylish Gentleman

Standing in front of our administrative assistant's desk, I ask politely whether she can get me a pocket protector.  (For those born after 1970, a pocket protector is a sealed, flat plastic enclosure designed to go into a dress- or work-shirt pocket and hold pens, thus to keep the pens from leaking into the shirt fabric.)

The most recent incarnation of my pocket shield has blown a gasket.  It's only a matter of time before I forget to put the top back on my SanfordÒ OnyxÒ UniballÒ Micro .2mm rollerball pen; then I'll reinsert the pen into my unguarded pocket, leaving a bright blue (sometimes red) exit wound the size of a baby's fist on my dress shirt.

Poor Delores, the sweetest and most considerate admin ever to grace my adult, white-collar life, can't prevent her babyface smile from breaking into an paroxysm of snickering and giggling.  When she finally stops and tries to be serious, she says,  "Tru, nobody uses pocket  protectors anymore.  I don't even have them listed in these thick catalogs."

Like a poke in the ribs, the words hit me.  What's a practical fellow to do?

People still use pens and pencils, still have identification badges, still need a convenient package for stray business cards and "while you were out" notices.  Don't they?  Not to mention the indispensable ink barrier.  Surely the world of laptop computers (and laptop commuters) and video gamers can't have discarded all vestiges of sensible nerdly apparel!

Returning to my desk in a somber mood, I pass the bullpen and cubes of our variously aged programming staff.  I send them a dour look and accuse them silently for this critical office-supply deficiency: "Hey, geeks, how 'bout your nerd roots?!  Ever think about that?!  How can you betray your engineering ancestry like this?!  Your assignment, regardless of whether you accept it, is to watch Apollo 13 a dozen times this week!"

Speaking of engineering ancestry, oddly enough the Institute of Electrical and Electronic Engineers (IEEE) carries an article on an IEEE history website page, which begins as follows:

"There was no such thing as a nerd back in 1947, when Erich Klein opened a small factory on Chicago's North Side and became one of the first manufacturers to make plastic pocket protectors….

"Made possible by the same heat-sealing process used to make World War II flak jackets, the pocket protector was intended as an advertising giveaway, emblazoned with a company logo. But this simple polyvinyl chloride product evolved into something far more culturally symbolic: it became the ultimate emblem of nerdiness."

Well, thank you very much.  Who dat be callin' me nerd boy?!  Fact is, I was raised into high-school jockdom, then self-radicalized into idealistic libertarianism.  My nerd and geek credentials are far from solid, but I was an engineer once, a hands-on, messy one.  My wife protested I only wore shirts to gather dirt, oil, and other shop residue.

And without the pocket protectors: ink blotches!

Thus I became a fan of the inserts.  They also conveniently housed my "Secret" security badge on the outside of my pocket informing the world I could be trusted not to give the Russkies any details about gear shift knobs.  When I'd forget to wear them, sure enough, within a week's time, the blotches would show up like dog doodoo on your mother's new white carpet.

I'm not giving up. 

I have a longtime friend from times gone by, Electronics Technician Eddie, who never met an organizer gizmo he didn't like, who's blood runs primeval nerd, who may be able to help me.  He and his wife host an informal social function to which we're invited and where I exclaim on the virtues of pocket protectors: "Eddie, nobody seems to carry them anymore," I sigh.

He sets his drink on the counter, gives us a "cat-that-ate-the-canary" smile, rushes upstairs and returns quickly with a coveted clear plastic pen pal, the Holy Grail of pocket protectors.  He's even copied the Office Depot electronic bar code of the item on a scrap of paper.  Hallelujah my brother!  Finally, he hands me a spare protector to get me through the hard times ahead.  What a friend!  Why is his wife is rolling on the floor laughing (rofl)?

After approximately a month, with the barcode in hand, I travel to the Office Depot store near our condo, but find the item has been discontinued.  Next day I go back to Delores and tell her the sad story.  "Can you do anything at all for me?"  Inching away, she offers condolences but firmly states the company has not stocked and probably will not ever stock pocket protectors.

One more shot.  When in doubt, fire up the browser and find it on the Web.

Staples has 'em.  Yippee!  [Well, my first search was a year ago, and now I bring up nothing.]  Finally I locate a site with a name you'd never expect, http://www.pocketprotectors.com/, fully dedicated to the pocket protector, and to its long-suffering aficionados.

"You're bold, practical, self-confident, and you don't give a hoot what other people think about you... you wear a pocket protector! We're not trying to win new converts to the joys of pocket protectors--it's probably too late to reach you if you don't! You already know whether you've got the necessary self-esteem."

Not only does the site provide moral support to PP junkies, it actually makes various styles of pocket protectors available.  A little pricey, but you have to attribute that to lack of quantity production.  Out of demand because practicality is trumped by style.  Or as Edward Tenner is quoted back on the IEEE history site,

"Now, anything as aggressively useful as trying to protect your shirt from ink is anti-chic. The fact that the pocket protector is a joke is an example of the triumph of culture over technology."

As a guy who doesn't think twice about such faux pas as wearing sandals and socks—together (in public)—I find the arguments of the pocket protector promoters appealing if not enchanting.  Grab a bundle.  We need to be starting our own styles.  Who cares what people think, as long as you're happy (and inkspot-free).