Humans, for the most part, tend to embody all the worst qualities of animals, namely dogs. Neither cute, cuddly nor loyal, the office worker in particular gravitates more toward the possessive, enraged qualities of a canine instead. One such trait is known as resource guarding, a hyperbolic means of protecting one’s bullshit (e.g. pens, Post-Its and staplers) that can result in overly aggravated behavior upon learning of the product’s absence.
Where dogs are concerned, this attitude is often times primordially ingrained from the need to compete for their sustenance in nature. Humans, too, in their state of unnaturalness, must compete for the chance to be a part of an institution that will give them the luxury of surrendering the best years of their mobility and agility to an office chair that would put them at risk of getting their burgeoning butt cheeks consumed by Albert Fish if they weren’t past the age cutoff.
Once they’ve vied for the position that will give them their precious pittance to live from paycheck to paycheck, the resource guarding can really begin. Except, instead of that guarding being of the scant amount of money in their bank account, it turns out to be of frivolous office supplies (including, upon occasion, the alcohol one hoards in his desk drawer). The picayune acts engaged in over “conservation” of one’s supplies–which can be ordered at the drop of hat by the overpaid administrative assistant–is not only a pathetic way to exert what little control the office worker has over his life, but also a flippant means to pass the time via Petty Betty activity.
At least when a dog bites your head off for no apparent reason, he still has this sort of inculpable, lamb-like look about him. When a human does it, he merely looks like the deplorable spawn of Satan (in the vein of William Golding’s rendering of Jack in Lord of the Flies) that he is. And all for a sodding ink cartridge or some such “resource.”