The Best Multitool for Everyday Carry Is the One You’ll Actually Use
Mine isn’t big enough to be a statement. It disappears until I sit down and it presses into my thigh at a certain angle, then I shift it a little to the side and forget it again. That’s about the size I’ve settled into after a couple years of trying to convince myself I’d carry something more capable. Bigger ones made sense in the abstract, all those functions folded together, but they stayed in the bag or on the desk. If something lives outside your pocket, it stops being part of the day and turns into something you have to go get.
The small one rides along quietly. It has just enough to justify the space it takes up, which is really the whole game. Pocket space isn’t measured in inches, it’s measured in how often you’re annoyed. A few extra ounces doesn’t sound like much until you’re climbing in and out of the car, or sitting through a long meeting, or walking the dog with one hand full. You start noticing which items demand attention and which ones settle in like they belong.
Most days it earns its place in forgettable ways. Snipping a loose thread on a shirt while waiting for the coffee to finish. Tightening a screw on a cabinet handle that has been just loose enough to bother me for weeks. Cutting open a box at the kitchen counter because I don’t feel like digging for scissors. None of it is dramatic. It’s just a steady reduction of tiny frictions.
There’s a particular moment I associate with it, usually mid-afternoon, when something small goes wrong and I fix it immediately instead of making a mental note. That’s the difference. Without it, I’d tell myself I’ll take care of it later and then I wouldn’t. With it, the fix happens right there, almost absentmindedly, and the day keeps moving without that loose thread hanging in the back of my mind.
I’ve also gone stretches without carrying it. It slides out of rotation when I’m trying to simplify, or when I switch to lighter summer clothes and every pocket feels more noticeable. For a week or two, I don’t miss it. Then there’s a moment, usually with a package or a stubborn piece of plastic, where I reach for it out of habit and come up empty. I end up using a key or my fingernail, which works but feels slightly off, like using the wrong word in a sentence.
That’s usually when it finds its way back in.
There are small compromises that never quite resolve. It collects lint in the seams. It scratches the screen of my phone if I’m careless about which pocket gets what. Sometimes it prints through thinner fabric and I adjust my shirt without thinking. It adds one more thing to empty out at night, one more object to keep track of on the dresser. None of those are enough to kick it out permanently, but they’re always there, part of the quiet negotiation.
What’s changed for me isn’t the tool itself so much as where it lives. It used to be strictly a pocket thing. Lately it drifts between pocket and bag depending on the day. If I’m carrying a backpack, it often ends up in a small side pocket, still accessible but not pressing against me. On those days I use it less, which is interesting. Out of sight, it becomes something I have to remember instead of something I just reach for.
I’ve tried to make it part of a set, grouping it with other things like a small light or a pen, but it resists that a little. It’s more situational. The pen is constant. The light has a season. The multitool feels like it follows my tolerance for inconvenience. When I’m busy or distracted, it comes along because I don’t want to deal with anything extra. When things are slower, I’m more willing to go without and improvise.
There’s also a kind of quiet satisfaction in having it even on days it never leaves my pocket. Not in a collector sense, more like knowing you won’t have to stop what you’re doing later. It’s a small hedge against annoyance. Not a big enough one to talk about much, which is probably why it sticks around.
I don’t think there’s a single “best” version of it in the way people sometimes mean. The right one is the one that stops you from noticing it most of the time and shows up exactly when your patience runs thin. The one you don’t take out and admire, but the one you reach for without looking and then put back without thinking.
This morning it’s back in my pocket, sitting just to the right of my keys. I’ll probably forget it’s there by the time I get to my desk. Then at some point later, I won’t.