Friday, 2 December 2011

On WHY Printers (I mean the machine) are Living Things

Sometimes I feel inclined to believe in science fiction movies. Machines do seem able to think on their own and have their own language. At least my printer does. It was rather a bother at first. picture me proud at finally being able to install it (on my own mind you; yes, it's an achievement) and then I realised that the war hadn't ended. The battle had clearly just begun. 

Firstly, it took so long and made such a lot of protesting sounds before it began printing my manuscript that I was half worried the spirit of literary critics had entered it. Just as I began to wonder when it would eventually begin doing its job that it began whining as it swallowed up the paper. Paper jam my computer screen announced.

It took time for us to get acquainted. Understatement. It was more like my trying to fathom the ways of that moody device than that device catering to me! Moody is the right word for it wasn't always a journey to Hades to get a simple print. Though there were some shudderingly bad days.

If you were to see it in repose you would think it to be as mild as an angel. It is only when you get to know someone that the mask slips off. At least the printer was direct enough in bratness from the very beginning though now I wouldn't part with it for a brand new one in an exchange offer. Why? Well, printers aren't so bad, they grow on you; eventually.  

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