My ass is to blame

Did the headline confuse you?  It should.  Listen up and hear my tale.

So last night I worked until midnight preparing press kits for four different clients, three different trade shows, two countries, 150 kits, 40 CD roms, sleeves, but no partridge in a pear tree.  (They don’t like to be stapled.)

This is a cautionary tale of how press kits lead to black marks on maple hardwood.

I went to bed exhausted, but deliriously happy that the only thing left to do in the morning was print out the Fedex labels.  According to my calculations, I only needed about 15 minutes to finish the job.  Easy peasy!

First thing this morning, I pop frozen waffles into the toaster, brew a cup of decaf (do I strike you as someone who needs caffeine?) and walk into my home office to get started.

As I’m printing out the first Fedex label, I hear the dreaded crunch of a paper jam.  Fabulous.

I go into the bedroom, grab a plastic foot stool.  I pull the very large/very heavy all-in-one printer, copier, fax machine off the shelf and glide it onto the foot stool so that I can get to the rear compartment more easily.   I  then reach in to try to grab the paper.

Might as well have been trying to move the Pyramids at Giza.  Not budging.

Since the machine is about six inches off the floor, I figure it might be a good idea to get a second foot stool from the closet and use it to sit on while I try to deal with the paper jam.  (I quickly discover that sitting on the foot stool, still makes my head…which incidentally is where my eyes are located…a couple of feet higher than the damn machine.)

Continuing my Einstein ways, I think maybe if I close it all up and press the print button again, it’ll magically come out on the other side.

I press print and the paper immediately disappears from the ass end of the machine.  I am now thinking that I am a genius.  I wait patiently on the front side hoping to see the white paper come out.  Nothing.   (Funny, how that genius fist pump vibe goes away so quickly.)

Okay, so now the paper is jammed inside the machine and not visible from either end.  Again…fabulous.

The display is telling me to open the print head door.  Where’s the satellite navigation on this thing?  Print head door?   I don’t see a door?!

So I just start pulling on every surface of this thing.  You know….like maybe there’s a secret compartment where gold is hidden.  Then I decide to pull upward.  Lo and behold, the entire top half hinges up.  (Forget about hiding jewelry in the freezer.  People, I’m telling ya…stick it in the printer.  No one will ever find it there.)

And there, like a little rat’s nest, is all of the crumpled up paper.

Expression on my face?   Smug, very smug.

I’m all like…yay….back to genius status!

So, I lift the machine slightly and slide it back onto its shelf.  I pick up the first stool, the one the machine had been resting on, and return it to the bedroom.    I come back for the second stool, the one my ass had been resting on, and return that to the closet.

I walk back into the office.  WTF?!  The black marks are on the floor.  I’m thinking, how the hell did printer ink get on the floor?!   I pick up a napkin that was nearby and try to remove it.   Not budging.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t ink from the printer.  It was actually melted rubber from the little cushions at the four corners of the step stool.  Apparently pressure from my ass somehow caused them to melt into the floor.  (Yeah, I know right?!  So embarrassing.)

By this time, my housekeeper has arrived.  She is hard at work attacking my kitchen.  I have a momentary thought that I’m going to pretend these marks aren’t there and Maria can deal with them.  But then I decide that would be uncool.

So, I go into the kitchen and tell her I need to borrow the Fantastik for a few minutes.  She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.   I think perhaps I have.

I take it into the office and squirt like I’m attacking the sign of the devil.  With a little extra rubbing, they dissolve.

So, that’s how a quick little project of printing out Fedex labels ends up creating two stubborn black marks and an  immense amount of psychological damage.

Categories: Manual labor , Stupid things I do

1 comment

1 Judy { 09.08.11 at 6:41 pm }

I’m with you on those #$%@ machines. Two printers in my home office and sometimes neither one is working. I refuse to go to FedEX or UPS to get something printed!! Fun stuff, Sophia.