Print It!

"I printed some things on the color printer and now they are not over there.
Do you know who's this is?" The Executive at my desk holds up a printout of stuff that isn't mine and waves it into my cubicle.

"Nope, not mine!"

"Well I printed two pages and these are on the printer but the stuff I printed is not. I need the things I printed and it looks like someone might have accidentally picked them up when they printed this," the Executive is still waving some print pages into my cubicle.
A little vigorously, I might add.
Like if the pages were ketchup bottle and my desk was the burger.
Now my blood pressure is rising.

"Hmmm, I can hardly see what you have in your hand because you’re shaking it in my face a little too hard and I can’t quite see it but ummm… I pretty much know that I don't know who printed that. I realize that I sit relatively near to Printville but I am my own municipality over here – you know I don’t share the same laws or charter as Printville and I don’t keep an eye on it unless there is trouble that might come my way.
Also, I don’t have the laser vision I would need to see who’s printing what on the color printer every time it revs up and starts its loving dance with letterhead. You see, I sit over here, behind this cubicle wall and I can hear the printer when it gets down to business but sadly, even if I did have x-ray vision that would allow me to see the printer from where I sit and work at my desk, even my 20/20 vision would probably not allow me to SEE what's actually being printed at any given time and again, let me show you, this wall here? “What?
“It's just a cubicle wall?
“Well, yes, you are correct. It IS just a cubicle wall I know and true, it’s not like your office wall but as I mentioned earlier, I don't have x-ray vision and I can't see through any walls, cubicle or not."

"But I printed some papers and now they are not here and I think someone might have accidentally picked them up. Do you know who might have done that?"

"Unfortunately, not only do I lack x-ray vision, but I also am a miserable failure when it comes to listening for the footfalls of my co-workers. I am pretty sure on a couple of people because of their distinct foot-dragging, or loafer-shuffling but regarding the vast majority of them, either I don't pay enough attention, or too much rock and roll ruined my ears and I can't tell who it is that’s speeding from his or her own cubicle and into Printville. I'm just not the expert that you need."

"So you don't know whose this is? Because I need to know because I think whom ever printed this might have accidentally picked up my two pages of printing and I NEED those two pages."

"Occam’s Razor would require me to draw the same conclusion, yes, someone printed those pages you are holding and accidentally picked up your pages instead of his or her own intended print job. Again and with a great deal of regret, I am unable to identify the person who might have accidentally picked up your two pages of printing.”

“Well. These are not mine and I need mine.”

“Good luck with that. You might try spending the 8 seconds it would take to reprint your pages reprinting them, rather than the 20 minutes you spent trying to get answers that simply do not exist in the space-time continuum of Corporate America.”

arizonasarah at 1:03 p.m.

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