The Briefcase: Why I Carried A Business Symbol

If you noticed, that's in the past tense, and for a good reason too.

When first stepping into senior schooling, things were different. The shirt we wore, the ties we tied, the belts we tightened, an expectation rested upon our skin.

With the switch from polo shirts to the shirts that needed an extra minute of ironing, we saw the slow transition into responsibility by the business-like clothing.

There's no secret that I want to pursue entrepreneurship, and I thought that the start of senior schooling was the perfect opportunity.

It would be fitting to be wearing the Senior uniform, the formal pants, shorts, shirt and tie, to carry a briefcase.

One extra step to ascend to the look of the atypical businessman.

This was grade 10. It doesn't have its heavy responsibility like grade 12, but it is the start of the journey.

When You're the Only One

The funny thing is, coincidentally, another grade 12ver that I knew actually started to bring his own briefcase.

No, I did not steal off him, but what are the chances?

His was silver; mine was gold, at least it's not all the same.

Compared to a backpack, the briefcase is a visual spectacle.

Among the sea of Nike bags, a bloke holding his bag with the grip of one hand rather than his shoulders is sure to raise eyebrows.

I can't remember who, but a teacher said something along the lines,

"A briefcase is unique. At least you can stand out of the crowd."

Yet, I didn't get the suitcase for the sake of standing out of the crowd; it was apparent that it became so.

People asked why I carried it, my response was simple,

"I want to be a businessman. So, I carry a briefcase."

The briefcase became a powerful image with people joking that I was an actual businessman.

(The fact that I was selling drinks helped, I suppose!)

You got to dress the part. On some days, I would wear long pants to fit the image.

What businessman would wear shorts?

Rather than saying I wanted to become one, I dressed like one.

A form of my self-expression surfacing as physical objects.

We get told looks don't matter, but they should be a tool in how you want others and yourself to treat you.

That is why there is uniform, no decision in what to wear. You and you're fellow colleagues or peers shall only be judged on character and achievement.

Still, there is not much individuality that can be expressed by a strict uniform, so the next best thing is a bag.

Also, I thought the idea was interesting, both owning and using a briefcase.

And the timing with a briefcase during the start of my senior years is,

"I'm here to do business."

That was the statement I conveyed.

That is why I believe there is a distinction, at least at my school, between the Junior and Senior uniforms because the mindsets of the two are different.

The uniform reflects it; a tie is reserved for a formal or workplace setting, whereas its absence is more casual.

From the start of Senior year, it is a slow transition into the workplace, so they start the journey with the uniform.

A Belt to Match

A part of my business look was a slide-able belt.

No belt holes. I could adjust it to any length without making a hole.

The buckle was unique as well. From the belts I could have chosen, it wasn't outlandish.

It fits the business aesthetic.

Reflecting on it, it may have been the first time I was deliberate with how I looked.

It's a skill. The profession is called image consulting.

You can only make one impression; from how you talk and your appearance.

It may seem shallow, but how someone decides their look reflects their demeanour.

The impression I wanted to make for myself was, "I'm here to do business: getting through high school."

We dress for other people. Or we can dress for ourselves with other people in mind.

With a briefcase and a statement-making belt, I chose the latter.

When It Back Fired

With a briefcase, it comes with a lock.

The combination lock has like a thousand possible pins. There were two of them, one for each side.

And with these locks, you can also change them; you might know where this is going.

It was lunchtime, and I hung out with the soccer fags.

(Yes, that's what we called them. Nothing to do with the guys' sexualities.)

One of them got a hold of my briefcase, curious about all its features.

By accident, surprisingly, he changed both locks.

All my school work; my lunch; were secured between 2 pins.

I can remember the day: it was a Thursday, First Break.

The bell rang, and we had Science.

All I knew was I had to try all 2000 combinations before I grabbed out my notebook for class.

I explained this to my science teacher; she was sympathetic and allowed me just keep moving the mechanisms all lesson.

Although, in theory, I had to only try 2000, my impatience got the better of me.

I went through three cycles of combinations before I struck gold.

From then on, people knew about how to change the locks.

So, I'll spend some days nagging to whoever changed my lock for the combination, getting Vietnam flashbacks trying to do it before.

And I didn't help myself either.

It was a pain in the arse to remember codes, so I kept the briefcase unlocked all day.

And that would be when people strike.

When I Stopped Carrying the Briefcase

The leather started to peel off.

After months of chucking the briefcase on the ground, landing upright, it became too tear.

It didn't fit much. The exercise books would be stacked inside, tearing from the constant friction of the covers and the insides.

Transporting food became an issue, with large containers unable to fit and the possibility of food spilling.

On some days, it became too heavy to carry, with only one arm that could be used to hold it.

The year after, year 11, we had to bring textbooks and laptops.

Instead of bringing the briefcase for the rest of my senior years, I opted for a backpack.

The briefcase did not have the space for all those books, so it was put into retirement.

When It Came Back

When you enter the Senior pathway, there are a lot of textbooks that come with it.

Some days, you might only need to bring two books. Some you would need four.

Before switching to online, I'd occasionally put all the textbooks in my briefcase.

I can only recall doing it twice, but it wasn't the major comeback.

Then, it needed to end.

The thing was falling apart.

I had to put it out of its misery.

So, I chucked it in the bin, never to be seen again.

It may have been irrational; I should have kept it.

Yet, I have no regret in letting go of it.

It's a moment in time.

One of the many things I might be remembered for.