Lost In Transit-lation
If you’re a really cool, nice, super-smart person and have been following this blog with blind loyalty despite a painful drought of posts over the past few weeks, you may recall the September diatribe about my ongoing battle with a certain printer at work.
It was not unlike the Evander Holyfield/Mike Tyson fight. Me being Evander Holyfield, of course, because as crazy as I am, I’m nowhere near the Mike Tyson level of crazy. And, if you’re an old fart like me, you probably remember how the original fight was called "Holyfield-Tyson: Finally!” because the two fighters were supposed to spar many times during the five years prior to the actual fight.
Well, the printer and I had it out in September, and like Holyfield, I prevailed through the eleventh round and got the TKO since I made the printer my little bitch through the end of the month and all of October.
We didn’t fight again until this past Wednesday, when the printer demanded an impromptu (albeit hugely anticipated) rematch for the title of Office Kung Fu Tech Master.
Unable to kick my ass in the first round, like Tyson, the printer tried to pull some fancy shit by not only jamming a sheet mid-print, but also not letting me pull out the cartridge to clear the jam. Tired and frustrated, I was having none of it. I realized that it was time to bust out the screwdriver and take the fucker apart. Literally. The end result was something out of T2. (Please humor my phone pics.)
It was the final straw. It was as if the bitch bit off a piece of my ear and Mills Lane had to start docking points. Yeah, so what if I head butted the little fucker without a gum-shield?
A half hour and about five left-over screws and a springy thing (but in the words of my crazy high school chemistry professor, “good enough for government work”) later, the printer was jew- rigged back in one piece and technologically reconnected.
But clearly, the warning wasn’t enough and the plastic little bastard had the chutzpah to go for my other ear by dying on me mid-print. All the buttons went red and the turning stopped. Like Tyson, the printer disqualified itself and crapped out on me. Mills called the fight and I wasted no time washing my hands of it and ordering a new printer five minutes later.
Of course, nothing is ever that easy...so when Friday rolled I around and I was still forced to print to the copier at the other end of the office, I called our supplier and was all like, “WTF is my new printer?!!!” After putting me on hold (as they always do) and checking the computer, the lady tells me that it looked as though my printer was “lost in transit.” Super.
I told her that I needed my printer ASAP because it was already a day overdue and she very calmly (I hate when they do that) explained to me that they could have a new printer re-shipped to me by Monday, but she couldn't guarantee what time UPS will deliver it.
However, she generously threw in a free box of cookies to coincide with my new delivery date, because as everybody knows, if you don’t have a functioning printer, a fatty box of Mrs. Fields are the next best thing. I think I read somewhere that the oatmeal raisin cookies have a special no-smudge patent. And the chocolate chip ones make you horny. And the sugar cookies give you cancer. And, yeah.
And so, this morning, UPS delivered my new printer; the Brother HL-5140 (a huge bump up from the now-dead HL-5040...only not really, because it’s the exact same printer with a new model number.) If memory serves me correctly, I think Shakespeare once wrote that “a Pinto by any other name still blows the fuck up when rear ended.”
Suffice to say that I got my free box of Mrs. Fields.
Oh, the irony.
But wait! It gets better.
So at like three-thirty this afternoon, guess what shows up? That’s right, the “lost in transit” printer itself. If I didn’t have to sign for the damn thing, I would’ve totally taken it home. But I guess we’ll see what happens with the billing. For now, I figure I’ll play lost and found: wait a month, see what happens...
It was not unlike the Evander Holyfield/Mike Tyson fight. Me being Evander Holyfield, of course, because as crazy as I am, I’m nowhere near the Mike Tyson level of crazy. And, if you’re an old fart like me, you probably remember how the original fight was called "Holyfield-Tyson: Finally!” because the two fighters were supposed to spar many times during the five years prior to the actual fight.
Well, the printer and I had it out in September, and like Holyfield, I prevailed through the eleventh round and got the TKO since I made the printer my little bitch through the end of the month and all of October.
We didn’t fight again until this past Wednesday, when the printer demanded an impromptu (albeit hugely anticipated) rematch for the title of Office Kung Fu Tech Master.
Unable to kick my ass in the first round, like Tyson, the printer tried to pull some fancy shit by not only jamming a sheet mid-print, but also not letting me pull out the cartridge to clear the jam. Tired and frustrated, I was having none of it. I realized that it was time to bust out the screwdriver and take the fucker apart. Literally. The end result was something out of T2. (Please humor my phone pics.)
It was the final straw. It was as if the bitch bit off a piece of my ear and Mills Lane had to start docking points. Yeah, so what if I head butted the little fucker without a gum-shield?
A half hour and about five left-over screws and a springy thing (but in the words of my crazy high school chemistry professor, “good enough for government work”) later, the printer was jew- rigged back in one piece and technologically reconnected.
But clearly, the warning wasn’t enough and the plastic little bastard had the chutzpah to go for my other ear by dying on me mid-print. All the buttons went red and the turning stopped. Like Tyson, the printer disqualified itself and crapped out on me. Mills called the fight and I wasted no time washing my hands of it and ordering a new printer five minutes later.
Of course, nothing is ever that easy...so when Friday rolled I around and I was still forced to print to the copier at the other end of the office, I called our supplier and was all like, “WTF is my new printer?!!!” After putting me on hold (as they always do) and checking the computer, the lady tells me that it looked as though my printer was “lost in transit.” Super.
I told her that I needed my printer ASAP because it was already a day overdue and she very calmly (I hate when they do that) explained to me that they could have a new printer re-shipped to me by Monday, but she couldn't guarantee what time UPS will deliver it.
However, she generously threw in a free box of cookies to coincide with my new delivery date, because as everybody knows, if you don’t have a functioning printer, a fatty box of Mrs. Fields are the next best thing. I think I read somewhere that the oatmeal raisin cookies have a special no-smudge patent. And the chocolate chip ones make you horny. And the sugar cookies give you cancer. And, yeah.
And so, this morning, UPS delivered my new printer; the Brother HL-5140 (a huge bump up from the now-dead HL-5040...only not really, because it’s the exact same printer with a new model number.) If memory serves me correctly, I think Shakespeare once wrote that “a Pinto by any other name still blows the fuck up when rear ended.”
Suffice to say that I got my free box of Mrs. Fields.
Oh, the irony.
But wait! It gets better.
So at like three-thirty this afternoon, guess what shows up? That’s right, the “lost in transit” printer itself. If I didn’t have to sign for the damn thing, I would’ve totally taken it home. But I guess we’ll see what happens with the billing. For now, I figure I’ll play lost and found: wait a month, see what happens...
posted by Eti at
7:54 PM
|
2 comments
