Me and Machines
Machines just don’t like me.
When I taught high school English, the school purchased some fancy-pants duplicating machine that was supposed to be the best thing since sliced bread. (Funny, I haven’t seen another machine like it anywhere else since!) Anyway, that machine would quit working every time I walked in the office. Every. time. The teachers’ mailboxes were located immediately behind this sensitive beast, so I had to go to the office frequently. It finally reached the point that when the secretaries saw me coming, they would frantically motion for me to wait outside the door while they retrieved my mail for me.
In general, plain old copy machines work okay for me. Except, of course, if I am in a big hurry and the items being copied are of utmost importance.
You might remember how my heat broke this past winter and how the repairman came out and found nothing wrong.
Yesterday I put a load of clothes in the dryer. About ten minutes later I heard a horrible noise coming from the machine. I turned it off, waited a few minutes, and tried again. Same horrible noise. I called the repairman. While I was on the phone with him I turned it back on. Same horrible noise. “That definitely doesn’t sound good” was his comment. He showed up first thing this morning – bless his sweet heart. He took the machine apart, found nothing broken, reassembled it, turned it back on and – you guessed it – it worked perfectly. All he found out of order was a ribbon and 23 cents. So I paid him the $65 service call and he went on his merry way. I just finished drying a load of clothes with no problem.