Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Who Knows What Evil Lurks In The Heart Of The Papernator? Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Knows.

The universe conspires!

Today I had an extra bit of time while my students were elsewhere standardized-testing. One of them came to me abruptly when I expected them all to be locked away without a key. She asked if she needed to bring her book to class. Well, no. Because I thought everyone was testing. Which she was, but thought she was almost done, and that three of my pupils would be showing up shortly. On this advice, I did not go make two sets of copies like I had planned. I even put my shoes back on, preparing for their imminent arrival. Which did not materialize.

I had a short bit of time left, so I looked up and down the hall. No pupils. I went and put my copies on the Good Kyocera, and the Naughty Kyocera. That one is like the opposite of Sour Patch Kids. First he's sweet, then he's sour. I've had a good run of luck with him, as long as I don't try to staple. So in went the originals on each machine. Both set to run a quantity of 80, two-sided.

With that brief moment to myself before once again being trapped until final bell, I stepped into the faculty women's restroom. As I was rising from the throne, I heard silence. Yeah. The churning of my double Kyocera harvest stopped. Just stopped. Silence. I quickly washed my hands and exited the throne-room into the workroom.

"Why do I hear that my copies have stopped?" I inquired to a figure hunched over Good Kyocera. I asked this because with a limited time window, I did not need anything going kaput on those Kyoceras. And also because there is a certain faction known for storming into the workroom and stopping print jobs all willy-nilly.

"It's only out of paper. It needs paper." So sayeth a member of our crew who knows all about Kyoceras, as she hovered over Drawer 3, dropped a swatch of paper in, and kicked it shut. Almost in a surly manner, methinks. WTF? I have no issue with the Papernator. Have always been on good terms.

"Oh. I was only in the bathroom. I could have put it in when I came out."

Then I saw that Naughty Kyocera had a paper jam. Fine time to be sour. I started CPR. One paper. Two paper. Three paper...

"There. It's going now." Said Papernator. And made a quick exit right in the middle of my expository soliloquy on how I have trouble finding all the papers that are allegedly jammed.

Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think I had stepped out of the loo and exclaimed, "Fee fi fofenater, I demand the head of the Papernator...on a platter!" No. I was not impolite. Only inquiring as to how both machines had stopped while I was indisposed. I could not have been away from them for more than two minutes. Believe me, I have to be quick with only four minutes between classes for bodily functions, with an angry mob numbering the the 3s and 4s waiting their turn. And it's not like I printed from my room a stapley 12-pager, and did not deign to check on my print job for 50 minutes.

No sooner had the Papernator's heels hit the hallway than Good Kyocera choked. PAPERJAM! I was still dealing with Naughty Kyocera. I found one more wayward paper, and slammed about six paper doors. It looked like it was cleared, so I canceled the print job. Fool me once, shame on you, Naught Kyocera. Fool me twice, and I might be owing Newmentia for a new Kyocera after teaching you a lesson.

I moved on to Good Kyocera. I performed all the rituals foretold by the troubleshooter. Still not clear. I pulled open the paper drawer that Papernator had loaded for me. Hmpf. Ain't that a fine how-do-you-do? There was about a ream and a half of paper with the leading edge of the entire stack curved like upside-down sleigh runners on the Grinch's sled. Even Mrs. Hillbilly Mom knows that you can't load paper that way.

The Papernator knew.

Alas, I rue the day that we can no longer take a whiz without our print jobs being sabotaged.

Thank the Gummi Mary, according to my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel, I break the 200 barrier tomorrow in my final countdown.


Sioux said...

200 what? 200 decibels? 200 cans of Beefaroni (I've probably gotten the name wrong) that you're going to feed to The Pony, and then you've going to have him pull a carriage through the park? 200 outbuildings on HMLand?

If you say only 200 more days, I will send one of my vicious golden retrievers to lick you to death.

Hillbilly Mom said...

I believe you mean Beefareeno. Or not. In any case, enjoy your carriage ride, and don't think I'm going to leave my Marble Rye after you didn't even serve it for our dinner.

I am putting on my wetsuit, because nothing shall stop me from starting life after my 199 more days!