The Box

My boss just walked into the office with his box. Torn and repaired with packing tape, this dirty, coffee-stained Talbots box is the equivalent of another man’s sumptuous leather briefcase. Instead of shiny brass combination locks, The Box has the impenetrable security seal of a single piece of paper tossed atop a rumpled tie. He’s using it as a doorstop today.

What we view as important in life is everything. It’s how we shape our lives. Do we need a supple leather case to carry our important documents, or will a dirty old box do just fine? David chooses a Talbots box, with the ironic tagline in traditional small caps, “It’s a classic.”

Ironically, there always seems to be an inverse relationship to the cost of the briefcase and the true net value of the person carrying it. Not just the monetary value naturally assigned to each of us by society, but the true net value that figures in things like family, the quality of your friendships, your health, your self esteem and your outlook on the world.

‘Back in the day,’ I had my Louis Vuitton case that I paraded with me everywhere. That bag was worth more than my savings account and IRAs combined. I needed that Louis to show the world I had arrived. No longer the redheaded Debate nerd, my bag told the world all that needed telling.

The problem was, the world wasn’t asking… and worse, the world didn’t care. I was so focused on ensuring that people knew that I wasn’t the ‘old me,’ when in reality, I was exactly the old me with really expensive stuff and an unwarranted attitude. At one point my goal was to show up at a class reunion in a limo – no wait – a helicopter – and stay just long enough to have ‘em asking in amazement, “Who is that jetsetter?”

Then I realized, much like the bag I carried, no one would care. Mostly, no one would care because they were too busy hoping the world would notice their bag, their new hair, their lovely wife or handsome husband, their cute kids, their weight loss, their business, their car, limo or helicopter…

What we carry in life is our own baggage, a true summary of our life experiences in the form of our daily outlook on life. Are we waiting for someone else to notice who we are or who we have become, or are we comfortable in our own skin as the less-than-perfect person we are deep down inside?

When we wait for the world to notice us, we have quite a task on our hands. My childhood was filled with not wanting to be noticed or picked on, my teen years hoping the world would notice how smart I was, my college years hoping the world would notice that I’d grown up and was ‘pretty,’ and my young adulthood hoping the world would notice my success. All the while, the world was patiently waiting for me to notice it.

I have an amazing and talented Mother who went without to ensure I always had enough, a loving husband who exceeds my expectations each and every day, four sweet and loyal dogs (don’t ask…), a decent enough job, and a handful of lifelong friends. Add on good health and enough to pay the bills, and that’s really all I need.

Maybe that’s my boss’ secret. He realized long before I did that it’s not about labels, expectations, or trying to impress, it’s about finding something that will work and running with it.

My fancy leather briefcases now sit dusty somewhere in the garage. I’m sure the rich scent of finely crafted leather has been replaced by the unmistakable stink of oil and gasoline.

These days, my bag carries things like a laptop, water bottles, Excederin, a soft-sided lunchbox for my yogurt and my planner. It’s durable, it’s big, and it’s very unimpressive. Most of the time, it lives tucked away under my desk. This morning, I spilled some coffee on it and the canvas top rolled the hot java conveniently onto the floormats of the car. That’s the way it is, it’s my bag - it’s no box, but it’s good enough for me.