Sharon looked at the office store employee as if he were speaking a different language.
“The normal amount of shredding, I suppose.”
“Well, we have different levels of shredding for different needs,” he said, undeterred. He went to one end of the shredder display. “This one, for example, is an eight sheet, cross-cut shredder, great for home needs or very light office work.” He then stepped over to far side of the display. “Now this bad boy, on the other hand, is an 18 sheet, guaranteed jam-proof powerhouse.” He pulled out the waste bin full of sample shreddings, looked at her and smiled. “Instant confetti, ready for New Years Eve,” he said.
“When you say ‘sheets,’ how many photos would that be?” Sharon asked.
“Photos? Well, they’re thicker than paper, so figure about half, I guess. You have a lot….?”
“My husband left me for someone half our age two days ago,” Sharon said. “We were married for 25 years, so, yes, there are quite a few photos that I’d like gone, and I like the idea of shredding, more than, say, burning. Less mess, and, I’ll be honest, it just viscerally feels like it would hurt him more to be shredded than burned.”
He looked at her for a moment, as if deciding what to say next. “Well,” he said, moving to the middle of the display, “I’d think that this 12-sheet model would work fine.”