The reason I started carrying a machinist screwdriver every day
I think it slipped in after I tightened a loose cabinet pull at work. One of those small annoyances you notice every time you touch it but never plan to fix. I had the screwdriver in my hand already, so it went into my pocket instead of back into the drawer. It felt temporary. Then I forgot it was there until I sat down and felt it press sideways against my thigh.
It’s not heavy, but it’s dense in a way that makes it noticeable. Different from a pen. It doesn’t flex or disappear into the seam of the pocket. It just sits there, a short piece of metal that reminds you it’s there every time you shift in a chair. For a few days I kept meaning to take it out. I didn’t, partly because I kept finding small things to use it on. A loose screw on a light switch plate. The battery cover on a kid’s toy that never quite sits right. The little adjustment screw on a pair of glasses that had started to wobble.
None of those were urgent. If I hadn’t had the screwdriver on me, I would have noticed the problem, maybe pressed on it a bit with my thumb, and moved on. Having it in my pocket changed the timing more than anything. Problems got solved at the moment I noticed them, which sounds obvious, but it’s not how most of those things usually go. They usually stack up in the background until one day you decide to deal with all of them or none of them.
There’s a tradeoff that shows up pretty quickly. Pocket space is not just space, it’s shape and comfort. The screwdriver competes with the same corner of my pocket where my keys tend to settle. When both are there, they knock into each other in a way that makes a little noise when I walk. Not loud, but enough that I notice it in a quiet hallway. I found myself shifting the screwdriver horizontally to keep it from clinking, which then made it more noticeable when I sat down.
After a week or so, I moved it to my bag. That felt like the sensible place for it. Less in the way, still available. But the bag version of carrying something is different. You have to remember it’s there. You have to decide to go get it. A couple of times I noticed something small that needed tightening and just didn’t bother, even though the screwdriver was technically within reach. It’s a small gap, but it changes behavior.
At my desk, it started living near the edge, just off to the right of the keyboard. Not organized, just placed where my hand could find it without looking. It blended in with the other small things that accumulate there. A paperclip, a charging cable, a sticky note folded over itself. In that setting it made the most sense. It got used a few times a week, always for something minor, always without much thought.
Then one morning it ended up back in my pocket again. I think I picked it up absentmindedly while heading out, the same way you might grab a pen. I didn’t notice until I was already in the car. There’s a moment then where you decide whether to take it out or just let it ride for the day. I let it ride.
What’s interesting is how quickly it starts to feel normal again. The weight, the shape, even the slight inconvenience. Your body adjusts, or maybe your expectations do. By mid-morning I wasn’t thinking about it at all, until I needed it. A loose screw on an office chair that someone had been complaining about. It took ten seconds. No one made a big deal of it. It just stopped being a problem.
I’ve gone a few stretches without carrying it at all. During those times, nothing falls apart. Things just stay a little bit loose. You press harder on a wobbly handle. You ignore a rattle. You tell yourself you’ll fix it later. And later either happens in a batch or not at all.
Right now it’s back on the dresser with the usual stuff. I haven’t decided if it’s coming with me tomorrow. It probably depends on whether I notice it when I’m scooping everything up on the way out. If it ends up in my pocket, it will earn its keep in a few small, forgettable moments. If it doesn’t, the day will go on pretty much the same, just with a few tiny things left slightly undone.