Rage Against the Machine

I spent so much time today in front of a copy machine that I can't be sure that I didn't duplicate myself in the process. I've been feeling rather duplicated all day, but that may have been the result of the meatloaf sandwich I had for lunch.

Six hours!! Six hours copying church bulletins today. To hell with giving myself the lotto numbers; if I build a time machine, I'm going back to the 15th century and stabbing Johannes Gutenberg in the throat. I now support a completely original society where no documents may be duplicated by anyone or anything (at least without the express written consent of Major League Baseball).

Apparently not content with providing one copier to make my life a miserable hell, my employers have TWO copiers for me to use. I've developed an unhealthy relationship with these reproductive monstrosities. Not only do I curse and shout at them when they jam, but I have a sneaking suspicion that these machines are mocking me. They know how tedious and unfulfilled their own lives are, and they're trying to drive my self esteem into the ground in order to make themselves feel better. They're mechanized bullies. I suspect this is how Skynet developed.

I talk to the copiers. I've humanized the copiers. I not only believe that the copiers have emotions, but I'm convinced that they're smug, self-righteous, and condescending. How could they not be? All they do is read Christian bulletins all day! I say to the copier nicely, "Please copy 50 cover pages because I only have 50 sheets of card stock." The copier retorts by declaring, "Nay sir, I'm going to inhale ten pages at once, rip them to shreds, and then jam them into my own gears. Then I'll bleep noisily at you and put a message on the display screen that says, 'Fuck off, JP' but I'll get rid of it as soon as you try to show the employer what a saucy machine she purchased." One day I'll teach that copier to quit sassing me.

I don't want you to think that this is your run-of-the-mill disdain for office supplies. I believe the copy machine to be a worthy adversary, and I know it can best me when it wants. Just the other day, I was cursing it for being too damned slow. It was churning out the copies at about 85% of its normal speed. After such a long working relationship, I know what it's capable of. After my diatribe, the copier responds by making several loud grinding noises. It then starts copying pages at about 10% of its normal speed before finally giving up and producing a generic "ERROR" message. Then it shuts down altogether. Delighted, I go into Mrs. Employer's office to tell her that her copier finally bit the dust and that she needs a new one. However, when I go back into the main office to show her that it's broken, the damn thing starts right up and begins happily printing pages. Mrs. Employer mocks me for not understanding how to use use the "ON/OFF" switch before leaving the room. I glare at the copier and grudgingly say, "Well played, machine - well played indeed."

This is why I need to teach. At least the people who'll make me miserable will be REAL people instead of anthropomorphic pieces of office equipment that spend more time with me in a given week than most other human beings. And when I push my students' buttons, they actually do what I want them to do.

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"PC LOAD LETTER?? What the fuck does that mean?"