I bought some scissors the other day because ours had disappeared. I’d looked in the drawer where we keep them, asked whether anybody had seen them and received the usual assurances that nobody had touched them. Wherever they’d gone, they’d apparently travelled independently. Maybe it was the Sock Monster trying to diversify.
Anyway, I bought another pair. They looked sturdy, had comfortable handles and seemed perfectly suitable for the fairly modest cutting requirements of our household. Unfortunately, getting them out of the packet turned out to require the equipment I’d specifically gone shopping for.
You’ll know the packaging I mean. Clear plastic, sealed all the way round, with no obvious way in. I think it’s called blister pack but not 100% sure on that. ANyway, I turned it over several times, looking for a tab or some instructions, but all I could find was a picture showing how nicely the scissors would fit in my hand once I’d been allowed to have them.
I tried pulling the top apart, then bent a corner until it went white. Getting a fingernail underneath achieved very little beyond hurting my finger and a sharp jab of pesky plastic going up under my fingernail causing me to swear quite a bit. So I stood there for a moment looking at the scissors through the plastic and cursing the people who thought blister pack was the perfect scissor packaging solution.
I do wonder whether anyone tries opening these things before they send them off to the shops. Presumably the person packing them has scissors readily available and hasn’t considered that some of us are buying replacements.
For a while, I considered using a kitchen knife, although I could already imagine having to explain that to somebody at A&E. “I was trying to open some scissors” would need a bit of context before they wrote it down on their sheets. Nevertheless, I gave the packaging a good stab and poke with my favourite kitchen knife. (Yes, I know it sounds particularly pathetic to have a ‘favourite kitchen knife’, but if, like me, you do a fair bit of cooking, you’ll understand my favourite knife situation.)
Eventually, after rummaging further into the drawer, I found an old pair we’d stopped using because they barely cut anything and the hinge bit had gone all loose and wonky. I’d evidently kept them in case we ever needed to give a piece of paper a raggedy edge. They did, however, get under a corner of the packet, and with a fair amount of effort I managed to cut my way round. The plastic became much sharper than anything I’d intended to buy, so getting the scissors out involved handling the remains quite carefully. I’d gone to all this trouble and was rather keen to finish with the same number of fingers.
Once released, the new scissors were excellent. I tried them on a bit of paper and they cut beautifully, which made it all the more annoying that they’d been sitting there perfectly capable of helping with this task had they not been held prisoner in the blister pack.
I’ve put them in the drawer now and asked everyone to leave them there. I’ll place good money on them disappearing wihtin a week.
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