I’m working late tonight and need to print out parts of my projects to get them done. The color copier is “out of consummables.” The black and white had a paper jam. My options are limited because everyone who knows how to fix the copier left at least 3 hours ago.

I don’t know what consummables are (unless they are talking about chocolate, of which I am sorely lacking) so I decided to tackle the jam. 25 mintues later, I am covered in toner but I think I have removed all the paper from the SIX places it was jammed in the vast internal organs of the beast. I am elated. I have conquered the foe! I can get back to work.

Except not. Because the door of the copier no longer closes. Somehow in the process of attempting to unjam this hulk of plastic, I have angered the mass production gods. The help button says that all the machine parts must be in the correct position for the door to close. Some quick math tells me that there are about 40 million combinations of the way those knobs and levers could possibly be arranged and it was my job to find the correct one if I wanted to use the machine.

It was then that I realized the SPAWN OF SATAN resides in our copy room.

I left a note for whoever is lucky enough to come in tomorrow morning and decided to call it quits. I’m leaving now. And I will be plotting my Office Space-esque revenge the entire way home.

Copy machines: 2 , Rachel: 0