Printer Troubles: The Unending Clamor
The morning coffee at Mission Control is abruptly disrupted by a timid knock at the door. Our temporary office worker has an issue, apparently. “It’s the printer,” she states contritely. “It’s making a noise.” “Is it when it’s printing, or does it happen all the time?” the PFY inquires, half anticipating a silly answer. “Kind of both,” she responds. It commences making a fuss before printing and continues for about 20 seconds afterward.”
The PFY and I step out to investigate, and indeed, the printer is emitting a slight squeak, from the moment it powers on until it decides to rest. “I know it’s barely noticeable, but the office atmosphere is so serene…” she trails off. “Leave it to us,” I reply. “So you can handle it?” she asks, eyes filled with hope.
The Unmodifiable Printer
“A device backed by an exorbitantly priced service contract, nullified the instant we open an unauthorized panel?” I inquire. “No way!” “Oh,” she says, deflated. “However, what we can do,” I say, moving some papers from my neglected desk phone and hitting the speed dial, “is report a fault.”
The Serial Number Debacle
In just 15 minutes, I’ve navigated the labyrinth of the outdated IVR system and I’m conversing with a real engineer. “… And what’s the serial number?” he asks. I recite the sequence from a snapshot I captured earlier. “Oh no, that sounds like the controller serial number,” he sighs. “I need the printer’s serial number. It’s on the back panel of the machine, beneath the sticker with our support contact. If you want to call back when you have that, I can-” “It’s alright, I have it right here,” I say, having been through this circus previously.
Ploy #1 in the Printer Engineer playbook is to request the serial number. If the user actually produces the serial number, ask for some other nonsensical number. When they can’t provide it, get them to call back, endure another 15 minutes of vague and cumbersome IVR, and then ideally wind up with another engineer. I rattle off the new number, the model number, the revision number – helpfully located on the base of the machine. As mentioned, not the first time we’ve dealt with this…
Engineer Discussions
“And what appears to be the issue?” the engineer probes, sticking to his script. “It’s likely the fuser unit,” I say. “Is it likely the fuser unit, or is it actually the fuser unit?” he asks. “I can’t be certain – I’m no expert on printers,” I concede. “Could you come in this morning?” Ploy #2. You can never manage to arrive when they want you to.
“Oh, I’ve got a full agenda this morning.” “How about this afternoon?” I inquire. “Let’s see. Hmmm. No, it seems I have a couple of appointments outside the city.” “How about tomorrow morning?” “Hmmmmmmmmm, no, but I might be able to fit you in tomorrow between 1 and 3pm – if that works.” “Alright,” I sigh. “I guess we can make that happen.” “And I’ll need a parking spot for the van.” “Okay. I’ll set one aside outside the building.”
The Delayed Arrival
“Alright,” I tell the temp. “He’ll arrive tomorrow at 3:45.” “He said between 1 and 3,” she points out, sharp as ever. Ploy #3. Arrive late and leave a note instructing the user to reschedule. We all know the drill.
The Arrival and the Switch
The next day, 3:40pm … “And here he arrives,” the PFY states, as we observe a small white van pulling up beside the road cones we set up early this morning. The driver steps out, relocates the cones, along with the “DANGER, SINK HOLE” sign we made – complete with branding from the local council. Just moments later, he’s inside the main office, inspecting the printer.
“I thought you said it was a fuser unit?” he remarks. “No, no, I mentioned it was likely the fuser unit,” I counter. “It’s not related to the fuser unit,” he retorts. “My apologies,” I respond. “But would you have shown up if I’d told you it was a squeaky bearing?” “Yes.” “Yes, but would you then have indicated that you needed to order some replacement bearings?” “I do need to order some replacement bearings.”
The Deal
“And a week from now, will you call us back, claiming the bearings are obsolete, that this specific printer model is discontinued, and that for ensuring compatibility we’d need to replace this printer along with every other printer in the office at an astonishingly high cost?” Ploy #4. The Upsell. “This printer model is indeed discontinued. We have no spare parts either,” he admits. “So,” I say, “what I need you to do is this: take this printer to the fourth floor, inform them that you’re upgrading their printer with this one, which boasts 32-bit color, darker blacks, a memory upgrade, and an advanced feeding mechanism – then bring their printer down here.” “It’s the same printer,” he replies. “They are all precisely the same.”
“Yes, but only you, me, my assistant – and now our temp – are aware of this.” “No, I don’t believe I could do th-” “20 quid,” I say, waving a note in his view. “I’ll be back in five,” he responds, pocketing the cash quicker than a FIFA official. True to his word, he comes back in five, pushing a printer ahead of him.
The Aftermath
“Pleasure doing business,” he says, placing the printer in front of me and grabbing his toolbox. “Are you certain that he actually changed the printer?” the temp queries, as the PFY wheels the printer out of the main office to Mission Control. “Only, our printer had a red stain on the front panel… and I think the new printer does too.” Ploy #5. Take the cash and dash.
“We’ll find out by listening,” I say. “Listening for what?” she inquires. “Shh!” I whisper. And the temp is right; the office is serene. So quiet you could detect a faint squeaking sound from a worn bearing. Or, in the distance, the sound of a large multifunction printer colliding with a small white van from a significant height…
“A True Printer Saga”
And there you have it, folks. Another day, yet another printer tale. If only mending these metal boxes was as straightforward as ordering a drink. Check out more stories of tech struggles on GadgetLad.
