Wednesday, November 14, 2012

People, Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Best Friend. He's a One Gal Copyin' Pal Who'll Love Me 'Til the End.

The copy machine is loaded.

I take full responsibility. Those Kyoceras just can't hold their paper. Like a kindergartener forced to hold a vomit bowl under his chin in the car, Kyocera has to have a safety outlet. Drawer 1 must remain open. If we close it, you see, Kyocera's guts start churning. Paper goes places paper shouldn't go. It's too much for his system. Kyocera shuts down. He needs a cold cloth for his forehead.

I feel for Kyocera. I do. Nobody wants to be exposed, a virtual stranger's arms up to the elbows in his guts, in full view of every Tom, Dick, and Harry who walks down the hall. I try to soothe him. Any time I need a job done, I coddle Kyocera. First, I check for a fever. I ask how he's feeling. He's not very talkative, that Kyocera. But sometimes he flashes a text that says he is under the weather. And I leave him alone.

Today, Kyocera appeared to be perfectly healthy. Robust, even. He had just finished a major task for a colleague. So I let him rest momentarily. Gave him a quick check-up. It seems that he was not starving, but it had been a while since he had eaten. Like maybe his blood sugar might be low. So I fed him. Filled him to the brim. You never want Kyocera to get hungry while he's working for you. His nutrients go down the wrong tube. Sometimes, a simply Heimlich maneuver can fix him. If you catch him choking in time. It's tricky. Because, like humans, a choking Kyocera makes no sound. I saved him on a hunch, once. Pulled open Drawer 2, and saw an accident waiting to happen. His next bite was twisted into a shape that would never have fit Kyocera's esophagus. I removed it. Disposed of it. And that day, like today, Kyocera hummed happily along. If he had lips, I swear that he would have whistled while he worked. None of those septuagenarian-with-emphysema wheezes were in evidence.

I got Kyocera loaded. And I take full responsibility.

9 comments:

  1. A little bit of Nilsson in the night? A bit of Bill Bixby? What a blast from the past...

    Our copier cannot be left alone to rest. It is a marathon runner hopped up on Red Bull. Our staff uses it constantly, and the machine obliges.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sounds like you've got the soothing touch. It's so nice to know just what buttons to push to put that office assistant in a productive mood. I shared a cubicle with an HP Laserjet with a queezy digestive system. He tended to choke under pressure.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sounds like your copy machine is quite the character.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Why am I hearing strains of the song from "The Courtship of Eddie's Father?"

    Kyocera. That would make a great name for an usual character in a sci fi story. I visualize her as a woman who doesn't want to to be exposed and hasn't room in her life for others, yet a stranger takes pity on her and fills her life with -- paper?

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sioux,
    Our Kyocera is more of a couch potato. You sometimes have to dust the crumbs off of him before starting a job. He doesn't strive to be the best. He is content to be not quite as bad as the worst copier in the world.

    ***************
    Leenie,
    Whoa! You make it sound like I should close the door and block out the window with butcher paper every time I coax Kyocera to do my bidding. I hope you were proficient in the HP Heimlich. Otherwise, you might have ink on your hands.

    ***************
    Stephen,
    Kyocera reminds me of the guy dressed in a rat costume, eating peanut butter out of the jar, on the d-CON commercial. Woman: "You disgust me." Rat: "Prove it."

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jbxG2pzQJE

    ***************
    Donna,
    Well, you hear the Eddie song because you loved that show. And because I am such a good plagiarist.

    Wow! You've got the framework of a story already. I can only imagine what you could do with a half-hour in an appliance repair shop.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Kathy,

    I'm a picker,
    I'm a grinner,
    I'm a
    Copy Machine Whisperer.
    I duplicate pages on the run.

    I'm no smoker,
    I'm a joker,
    I'm a former friend of tokers.
    I sure want copies to be done.

    I'm a picker,
    I'm a grinner,
    I'm a
    copier butt-kisser.
    If you want copies I'm the one.

    (fade out)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Kathy,
    I want to point my finger at you and holler, "You ARE funny!" but that might seem like bullying, so I will have to refrain. Otherwise, you might never join me when I take my stand-up act on the road. I have a special job for you in the audience. Pretend you don't know me, and lob me softball heckles so I can knock them out of the park.

    ReplyDelete