Monday, December 11, 2006
1:50 p.m.

Bad things happen after 2am. Accidents, arrests, booty calls…Most of my legal authority issues took place after 2am, so I can attest to this. But for me, bad things also happen at the copier.

Job 1: Printable dividers in the bypass tray. beep, beep, jam. Open compartment Z1, B1, B2. No jam. Rearrange printable dividers in the bypass tray. beep, beep, jam. Open compartment Z1, B1, B2. No jam. Rearrange printable dividers in the bypass tray. beep, beep, JAM! Damn. Remove divider from feeder, open compartments Z1, B1, B2. Continue. Job 1 will continue in this manner until all dividers are printed.

Job 2: Copy documents, formerly bound, mixed size and settings: B/W duplex letter; B/W one-sided tabloid; Color one-sided letter, Color one-sided tabloid. No pattern or consistency. Place letter documents b/w duplex in form feeder, batch 1. beep, beep, JAM! Open compartment Z1, B1, B2, clear jam. Rotate and place documents back in form feeder, punched side away from feeder. No more jams.

Footnote to Job 2: This job is for a consultant and former employee of my company, let’s call her Karen. Uptight, exacting, caustic. If you decapitated my old tyrant supervisor, Karen’s head would sprout up in her place. Master at backhanded insults. Last time I saw her I was told: “You look very nice! I guess I’ve never seen you dressed up before.” Ouch. Basically anything remotely associated with Karen is bound to be a giant hassle, pain-in-the-ass assignment. I don’t know how she does it. It’s like she sprinkles everything with little pieces of herself. A nagging voice repeating, “double-sided. No not that one. That one, but not tabloid and not color.” We can’t escape her, and we certainly can’t kill her. So we’re stuck with her until we finish the projects she started before she left. If I am ever in a position to hire any of her children, I will not, for fear of possibly having to engage in yet another painful interaction with her.

The better part of my morning was spent opening doors and drawers, lifting trays, clicking buttons, and turning wheels to find snaggles in the copier. Most often, the snaggles didn’t exist, but it placates the copier, as it likes the attention. I am convinced that Transformers were invented to better assist us with copiers, training us to become little work-bots later in life.

I seem to remember random, nonsensical articles of my life at the copier: i.e. The Sweet Valley High blog. That movie with Justine Batemen as a blind dancer. Jason* Bateman played her brother. He is her brother in real life. I think I’ve mentioned this in an earlier blog.

This is much more boring than I expected. Sorry. Thanks for reading. Next one will be better.

*Thanks for the correction, Fucker.