I've been doing battle all year with a particular printer at the photo lab I frequent, and recently, this printer has decided that instead of at least pretending to cooperate with me, it was just going to make me absolutely miserable. Every time I walk in, it greets me quite amicably -- enough to trick me into thinking that perhaps this time, it will do my bidding.
So I delicately load a piece of paper into its tray and press the print button. Then all hell breaks loose.
Of course, once the data has been sent through, the paper can't be salvaged, so letting it go and hoping for the best is usually the most logical option. If nothing else, when the results are less than desirable, the problem can be easily diagnosed. If a head cleaning is needed, for example, that's easily identifiable and simple to fix.
Or at least, it should be on any other printer. Except this one. Because this one is the Anti-Christ.
I'll admit, I'm not the most patient of people, but I try to remain level-headed when a big project is on the line, as frustration is often counter-productive and won't do anything in the way of helping me achieve the desired results. But it's around this time that my patience starts wearing thin. And the printer knows it. And oh, it LOVES it.
...And then, this happens.
Which is great when you've stolen your office printer to dismantle in a deserted field. Unfortunately, it's not so great when you still have jobs queued.
Well, fuck.
**This post is dedicated in part to my dear friend Stuart, who has denied all knowledge of my existence purely for the sake of getting printers to cooperate with me. (If you like music, particularly funk and blues, or if you're an analogue junkie, or if you just want to read the musings of a relatively cool Aussi, you should show him some love by checking him out at www.somethingaboutfunk.
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