In Which I Dream of Killing The Scanner/Printer

Since I've left the Giant Green Monster, I've been working part time at a therapists' office. It's nice, not dealing with the general public. Well, I mean, I am dealing with the general public, but it's different. Talking to people over the phone and making appointments is a far cry from stirring 7/8ths of a Splenda into someone's coffee and then being told they wanted only 3/4ths of one and having to start over.

Needless to say, on a whole, I'm happier.

However, I'm fairly sure the printer is out to get me.
I spend my days scanning old patient files in an attempt to free up space and go digital. Oh, and there's something about being "environmentally friendly" and "recycling". Yeah, sure, kind to the earth vegan hippy whatever. That too.

I scan these files by putting these pieces of paper in the top tray of one those crazy all-in-one printer/scan/fax//copy/make-you-a-sandwich machines (this one is an HP) and it feeds it in and does the rest. It'll even do double-sided stuff. Frankly, I find this magical.

Sometimes, though, I just find it to be bullshit. Some of the files have a lot of legal pad paper and apparently Mr. High and Mighty Scanner Thing is too good for it and it jams something fierce. Sometimes I can get it out, but today it seems I cannot. This means I had to write HP (and have they written back? OF COURSE NOT) and tell me of my problem in the hopes they feel it important enough to deal with in a timely fashion.

In the meantime, I scan files on the flatbed glass. One sheet at a time. I come back to the computer to click "Next Page" and then switch the sheets on the glass and this process repeats for like, 40+ pages sometimes.

It's only a matter of time before I go all Office Space on this fucking thing.


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