I have an old printer which sits on the shelf above my computer. For the tech-savvy it is an Epson Stylus C45, quite ancient in the scheme of things. In fact I think someone purchased it for me as a present when I lived in my old place in Kambah and that is at least five or six years ago so it is getting on in age comparatively.
Last week I decided to enter the ABC Grandstand short story writing competition which they have been advertising and quickly knocked up 1600 words for my entry. Trouble is, my printer doesn’t work as I ran out of ink a couple of years ago and as our second computer in the dining room has the latest in whizz-bang technology for printers attached and the few things I need printed I can complete on that computer using it’s printer means I haven’t bothered getting a new cartridge for my own machine.
But last week I ran into trouble. I typed my story out on Microsoft Word on the computer I am currently using but the computer in the dining room uses a more advanced platform as does my mother’s so they cannot open my word document when I email it to their machines. Problem.
So I took the easy option as usual and of course it has backfired on me as my schemes regularly do. Rather than simply going down to the shopping centre and buying a new cartridge, I let the socially phobic side of my personality rule over me and rather than searching for what I need or trying to find a compatible cartridge on the endless shelves of Officeworks or similar I decided to take the lazy man’s approach and order it online. Problem solved. They shipped it that day by Toll Priority and I could reasonably expect to get it the next day or in two days at the most.
I never thought anymore of it but on Tuesday my step-daughter asked me to drop her at the shopping centre as she was going to the movies with her friends. No problem there. I was away fifteen minutes and as luck would have it into that false window of opportunity drove the Toll Priority driver, leaving a card to signal he had been and missed me. I was three minutes late!
I cursed and swore and protested and in my mind evil thoughts momentarily threatened to overwhelm me and cause me to blame my step-daughter for dragging me away at a crucial time but sanity prevailed and I soon returned to an even strain and accepted these small things happen and it is really no worry.
Perhaps I should have rung them straight away but I was about to have lunch and get ready for work so I left it and rang them yesterday, Anzac Day. I had tried looking on their completely incomprehensible website to see if I could message them but it was so full of clutter and useless information I settled for ringing the generic number which appears on the slip which the driver left.
I assume I was re-routed to a call centre in India as the line was bad and the dulcet tones of a lady with an unmistakable sub-continental accent greeted me and although she was pleasant enough it seemed to take an eternity for her to peruse her computer records, find my entry and answer my enquiry. Good enough, we were halfway there. Or so I thought.
She gave me a reference number and I gave her a contact number and she assured me the company would ring and advise me if the article was at their depot and let me know when I can pick it up. That was yesterday afternoon.
It is now mid-morning and no such call has come from the carrier and I wonder just what the hell it takes to get them to ring me at an earlier hour than this. The depot is only in Queanbeyan, a fifteen minute drive from here and where else could the article be? It must have been dropped back at the depot ready for collection. Surely you should just be able to pick it up like you can at any postal outlet for articles coming through the regular mail? Surely they have been pinged by their computer by now with an enquiry from my sub-continental lady friend as to whether or not my article is present? Frustrating.
I start work at 2pm and it would be handy to be able to swing by the depot as it is not far from my workplace and pick it up. If only I could get a signal from them! I think we at our corporation do it much better.
So it appears I may not get to receive my parcel today as it appears increasingly likely any call, if it comes will be too late for me to take remedial action. I wonder if they are open tomorrow?
Once again it is down to my laziness and reliance on the Internet which has caused me to fall down this metaphorical fissure. I will wait until I can wait no more and let fate take it’s course. Will my story ever get printed out? Only time will tell.
Have a nice day.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 