The Duty of Reproving One's Printer

my printer, vanquished at last

I've been auditing a course at Duke Divinity School this semester, and tomorrow is the last day of class.  Dr. Maddox  always sends an email with an outline of the following day's notes so we can print it out ahead of time and have it with us in class.  Dutifully, this morning, I downloaded the pdf and printed it out.  Scratch that.  I TRIED to print it out.  My printer flashed a message to let me know that my print cartridge was dangerously low on ink, but being a thrifty soul, I told it to go ahead anyway, with predictable results.  The first page wasn't too bad, but the second was more blank space than black letters, and the third page.  Sigh.  It didn't print at all.

Again, being a thrifty sort of person, I put the pristine piece of paper back in the paper tray, tried to shut the paper tray, only to hear a crinkling sound from deep in the bowels of the printer.  This is not a good sign.  I then pulled the paper tray out and peered into the darkness, hoping to see the errant paper.  No luck.  I then opened the top of the printer and messed with the rollers, hoping that I could grab it that way.  Nope.  This went on for ... a while.  Then I got a powerful flashlight and shined it into the area behind the paper tray and caught a glimpse of white.  Yay, but how to reach it?  It was too far back for my fingers to grasp it and the space comparable to the area in which a surgeon performs laparascopic procedures.  And dark.  Very, very dark.

By this point, I am angry.  Beyond annoyed or frustrated.  I was downright mad.  I stomped around the kitchen, called and texted my husband to share my emotional meltdown, and then decided that this jumped-up piece of cranky technology was NOT going to defeat me.  I took one of those wooden stir sticks for paint -- the ones that look like a ruler -- and poked at the paper, trying to dislodge it from the various bits of plastic that it resided upon.  Then I got the brilliant idea of getting chopsticks and trying to grab it by one edge.  Great idea, but because of the dark, cramped space and the fact that I have only two hands, I couldn't see what I was doing, nor could I find any purchase for pulling said bit of paper free.  Sigh.  Stomp.  Yell.  (Thankfully, I am at home, so no one could hear!)

This went on for 36 minutes -- yes, I timed it.  I finally got one edge of the paper to move forward just a smidgin and kept trying my wooden implements until I was able to stick part of my hand in so I could tug at the corner and slowly, carefully, gingerly pull it out.  Mission accomplished!  I was triumphant.  No general ever exulted more over a battle won.

So then I did what anyone in my position would do.  I posted about it on Facebook.  A friend immediately responded with these words:  "Surely there is an appropriate Wesley quote!"  I told her I'd find one when and if I ever got the printer working because remember, there's still that empty cartridge to replace.  I quickly ejected the old one, put the one one in, added paper to the tray, and politely asked that it perform an alignment.  It printed for a few seconds and spit out a piece of paper that did not make it clear whether or not it had worked, so I tried it again.  I got a message telling me that I might need to clean the printer heads.  I declined and tried again to print the document that started this whole sorry business.  Within a matter of seconds, the printer smoothly ejected the sheets of paper with everything crisp and black, just as it should be.  I purred with joy, though I must confess that the words "Smoke 'em if you've got 'em" went through my head!

And then I kept my promise to my friend and looked for a pertinent Wesley quote, which I located in Wesley's Sermon 65 "The Duty of Reproving Our Neighbour."  In it, he explains what we are to rebuke, who the recipients of said rebuke should be, and how we ought to go about the reproof.   I figured that if ever anything needed reproving, rebuking, and renouncing, it is my printer.  Here, then, is the quote from section III, number 9.

The manner of the reproof may, in other respects too, be varied according to the occasion. Sometimes you may find it proper to use many words, to express your sense at large. At other times you may judge it more expedient to use few words, perhaps a single sentence; and at others, it may be advisable to use no words at all, but a gesture, a sigh, or a look, particularly when the person you would reprove is greatly your superior. And frequently, this silent kind of reproof will be attended by the power of God, and consequently, have a far better effect than a long and laboured discourse.

As you see, Wesley recommends a few words, a single sentence, or perhaps a gentle sigh or eye-roll, not the frustrated mutterings that erupted from my lips as I contended mightily with this fierce foe masquerading as office equipment.  I guess I'll have to try harder next time.  A silent reproof would have probably benefited the printer and my blood pressure!

In any case, the next time YOU encounter a recalcitrant piece of technology that ostensibly makes your life easier, remember Wesley's words about reproving your neighbor, and maybe you will not only retrieve your piece of paper without breaking or tearing anything up but you may emerge with a calm, unruffled spirit so you can continue doing your work!