I sent four documents to the printer, which resides approximately sixty feet, (or 10.43 of me laying down), from my desk.
Normally, I don’t stand up from my desk and race to the printer after confirming the count and page numbers, but it seems that I might have to start…
Of the four documents I Ctrl+P’d, only one made it back to my desk. The print-happy culprit amongst my co-workers has yet to be identified, but I suspect they’re a ? and not a ?.
Why? Because a man would allow the situation to continue…
I returned to my desk and re-printed, only to walk back to the printer to find two of the three re-prints. (I’m twenty-three percent perturbed.)
Whomever is stealing my prints is close to the printer, or has wings, has a complete disregard for my time*, doesn’t pay attention to what he is picking up and is afflicted with an unquenchable hunger for letter-sized copy paper.
Third time’s a charm.
I re-printed and ran to the printer, where, upon arriving, I found page four from my second attempt. (I’m thirty-six percent perturbed.)
A woman would have at least left a note.
*see the top right corner of my Website.
