@Moths I have many negative printer encounters, but my all-time worst involved a huge, ancient Konica-Minolta Bizhub-type office printer from the early 2000s. Said device decided to shit itself 20 minutes before a FedEx deadline when I needed to print a shipping label and send a document production to legal counsel. It looked a lot like this, but more ancient, decrepit, and full of hate:
Imagine sending a Fedex label to this hog of a machine from your desk at 8:05PM, then hopping up and running through the cubicle farm to go fetch it and slap it onto the box full of Important Files for Angry Federal Agency Lawyers. You reach the printer room and glance at the output tray.
There is no label. There is, however, the Flashing Red Light of Hate on the console.
Paper jam.
You swear violently on reflex and then are glad the department director isn't still in the office to hear that NSFW language you just used very loudly. You pop open the shell of the printer to try to retrieve and extract the offending sheet -- it can't be that bad, right?
Wrong. Inside these hulking hate-beasts it is dripping with ink and layers of razor-sharp steel claws for gripping and guiding the paper. It is also hotter than hell to help set the ink. It is absolutely stickerbombed with lots of exciting warning labels involving words like "serious burns" or "severe laceration danger", with all those cute little warning icons of hands being shredded.
You gaze for a moment at this medieval deathtrap as a drop of ink runs down the steel like demon's blood. The very tail end of the trapped, mauled paper sticks out at you, like the hand of a drowning victim begging for help as they slip beneath the surface of the waves.
Do you dare?
You remember that you just started working here a few months ago, and that a workplace injury claim would be a really bad start to things, and say "Fuck you, save yourself" to the jammed paper. A tech who gets paid to deal with this and who has very heavy safety gloves can get this mess later.
Instead, you temporarily "borrow" the secretary's small, personal printer from the front office to print your label, and then run like hell to catch Fedex.
Mission accomplished, your fingers are all intact, everyone is happy. Except for the Konica Satan Printer and the jammed paper, I suppose, but who cares about them.
~ Fin ~