At A Printing Pace

Do you know what sucks about not being able to have a printer in your room and having to schlep it all the way down to the workroom to pick up your copies? It is schlepping all the way down to the workroom to pick up your copies only to find sheets of paper that don’t belong to you spitting out. To make things worse, they have numerals on them—in 1,000 point font and bold—counting up—24, 25, 26—with no idea when it will end.

Perhaps part of my frustration was stemming from the fact that I was printing something I needed for class at the last second and had no time to come back, but come on! There’s got to be a better time to have the printer count to a billion than during school hours!

78, 80, 81…

What’s with the numbers? It couldn’t have been for an assignment. How had they not exceeded their copy limit yet? It this what a heart attack feels like?

93, 94,95…

And it wasn’t like that cancel job button worked. Believe me; I tried. It never works. I think they put those things on printers as a stress reliever—kind of like those balls you squeeze.

108, 109, 110…

Where is this bastard?! The papers are falling to the floor now! Maybe I’ll pour my coffee on this idiot when I see him.

120, 121, 122…