In a move that has left office supply stores nationwide scrambling, the newly formed Bureau of Mundane Verification (BMV) announced yesterday that all staplers must undergo mandatory calibration following Gerald P. Thistlewaite III's disturbingly accurate count of 1,247.3 paperclips in his desk drawer. "This level of precision violates Section 7, Subsection B of the National Boredom Accord," declared BMV Director Clive P. Wainwright while adjusting his triple-banded government-issue rubber band bracelet. "We cannot have citizens knowing exactly how many paperclips they possess. It creates an unacceptable atmosphere of... competence."
The crisis began when Thistlewaite, a mild-mannered accounts payable specialist from Des Moines, reportedly achieved "near-perfect alignment" between his Ticonderoga #2 pencil and the grain of his oak desk. Witnesses claim he then hummed the entire theme song to Jeopardy! without missing a single note while sorting mail. "He didn't even stumble on the 'Daily Double' part," gasped neighbor Marge Gunderson. "It was unnatural. Like watching a squirrel solve quadratic equations."
In response, the BMV has deployed 12,000 Calibration Technicians armed with "deliberately misaligned spirit levels" to every cubicle farm in America. Employees are now required to perform the Three Sacred Stumbles before operating any office machinery: tripping over an imaginary cord, misplacing a thumbtack for exactly 47 seconds, and sighing audibly while searching for the "any" key. Failure to achieve certified mediocrity results in immediate reassignment to the Department of Purposefully Crooked Picture Hanging.
Industry analysts predict a 300% surge in demand for intentionally jammed photocopiers and pens that run out at precisely 3:07 PM daily. "This is what true patriotism looks like," beamed Staples CEO Arthur F. Stapleton during an emergency press conference held inside a malfunctioning pencil sharpener. "We're rolling out our new 'Liberty Misalignment Kit'—guaranteed to make your hole punches 0.0003% less efficient!"
As citizens adjust to the new era of sanctioned sloppiness, one question lingers: who will save us when the emergency toast protocol activates? (The BMV confirms burnt toast must now be certified at exactly 42% carbonization to qualify as a national emergency.)