In my favorite movie, the lead says, “They probably had grifter parents and grifter grandparents and someday they’ll each spawn little grifter kids.”
My parents weren’t grifters; they’re packrats. And that trait, I’m sorry to say, has passed on to me. At home, I’ve held on to far too many oddball mementoes over the years. (Can you call something a memento if you can’t remember where you got it?)
I’m the same way at work. Things pile up. Fortunately, much of what I handle now is digital, and storage space is pretty cheap. I can get a little lost among files, but I’ve learned to organize my work-materials pretty well. Of course, I wasn’t always like that, and I’ve been loathe to throw something out “in case I need it,” which is probably the same rationale my parents have. In their case, you can sorta explain things in terms of coming of age in postwar Europe & Israel. Me? No excuses.
Today I decided that this really had to change. I looked around my office and concluded that I will never refer to most of the annual reports, meeting brochures, economic studies, business magazines, and conference guides that have piled up. And so, after the loose paper went into the recycling bin, I managed to generate a pile of trash that was nearly as tall as my wife:
