Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Tuesday's Wednesday Whinge
All I wanted to do was to print my updated CV (in case you are wondering, no, I haven’t got a job yet, but I did register with an agency).
But would the computer let me? No, it would not. First it informed there was no black ink, so I took the cartridge out, shook it about, then put it back. This trick works sometimes, but not, alas, today.
So I thought I would fool it by colouring the text – a nice bright red was what I had in mind. But another message flashed up on the screen, saying I needed black and colour cartridges and would I like to order them online…
Convinced the electronic equipment was lying, and that there must be some secret combination of keys which, when pressed correctly, would make the printer leap into action, I continued to issue commands.
But my efforts were useless, so eventually I headed off to buy cartridges.
I arrived at a major electrical retailer, and had barely crossed the threshold – indeed, I was still on the welcome mat – when I was accosted by an aggressive assistant demanding to know if she could help me.
Now I am the first to complain if shop workers ignore me when I want buy something, but it would be nice if they let you walk on to the sales floor before jumping out at you.
And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, when I replied ‘just browsing’ she barked back: “What for?” The answer ‘nothing’ failed to satisfy her and, glaring at me with steely eyes, she insisted I MUST be looking for SOMETHING.
By this stage I was so terrified I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone what I needed - I’ll bet the Spanish Inquisition were gentler on their victims – so I turned and fled.
Gathering my scattered wits together, I managed to purchase the cartridges from a friendly, helpful assistant in another retail outlet, and returned home.
But my troubles were only just beginning, because opening the packaging proved well nigh impossible. The whole thing was encased in a rigid plastic container which defied all my efforts to prise it apart. Scissors wouldn’t dent it and the carving knife wouldn’t pierce it. I shook it, hammered it, banged it on the table, threw it at the wall, and even shrieked: “Open Sesame!”.
Finally, however,I did manage to wrench the plastic off, then wrestled my way through layers of cardboard and foil to reach the contents.
Now, all I need to do is to remember which way round the cartridges go, press print and - it works!