open letter to the highspeed printer on my floor

Dear High-Speed Printer:

I won't waste your time with niceties. I know you have work to do. And I know this firm churns out paper with about the same frequency as I breath. Collectively, we have taken down many forests. And you've been a big part of that.

But H-S-P (do you mind if I call you that?) Today, you vex me. I clear paper jams. I really do. Unlike others on this floor (who shall remain nameless but should hang their heads in shame anyway), I try. I attempt to decipher your language -- turn knob 4c counter-clockwise, lift lever 2b, turn dial 7ca9 clockwise until you hear a click, remove paper -- whatever you throw at me, I catch. I have stuck my entire head inside your bowels (ugh) looking for that scrap of paper 2 mm by 3 mm that is holding up an entire floor's worth of printing. I have been covered in toner so often that several people on the floor think I work for xerox. I think you understand what I'm saying. I do not run away shrieking. I do not cower behind the paper shredder. I look you in the guts and roll up my sleeves.

So today. You were jammed. I cleared 3 jams single-handedly. Two jams at the front door and 1 at the left-hand side. But did that satisfy your wicked sense of humour. Of course not. After wiping the sweat from my brow and the toner from my shirt, I looked up to the screen to see if after tray 3 finished lifting, your steady, comforting hum would start up again, flicking paper out with a delightful whirr. But no. No no no. Oh, there is a misfed sheet at Tray 4. Easy peasy, I think. I open tray 4 thinking I'd see the culprit right there on the top (as with the misfed sheet in Tray 3 a couple of days ago). But no.

There. Is. No. Misfeed. You are toying with me. I looked inside, outside, around the corner, upside down. I looked everywhere. I could not find a misfed sheet. You know why? Because there is no misfed sheet.

In defeat, after trying forever (wasting precious billable time, though I will find a way to bill your vexatiousness), I finally called the xerox techs. I told them that you lie sometimes. I'm coming over to you now, to see what (if anything) comes tearing out of your guts.

You suck. I hate you today.

RM.