You jam it, you clear it
We have several recalcitrant robots in the office. Nohing anthropomorphic, for those who think of R2 or D2 or C3 (family name omitted). Rather, our robots are boxy and expensive.
The photocopiers and the folder-stuffer-sealer require a lot of TLC to get through the work week. Hardly anyone escapes a round of opening access panels, pulling sliders, turning cranks and wondering where that piece of paper is hiding away. Despite carefully animated guides (in that tiny display screen), the average paper jam requires five to ten minutes and two to five observers. Not efficient.
I’ve learned that the correct response to anyone asking “Can you fix the ***?” is a sad “Sorry, but I wasn’t trained how to do that”.
Believe me, I don’t like to offput people that way, but if I fold, my life will become a living purgatory. Waiting for the “real” repairman to drop by, I’ll simply have given others an out.
Back in the days when scriptoriums were all the rage, there was likely some poor monk that the others leaned on to keep quills sharpened and parchments neatly trimmed. Some poor fool that didn’t keep his tonture in the perpendicular to floor position would find Brother So-and-so seeking advice. Distracting; keeps one from getting their own page copied.
Here’s a thought. Why don’t we hold a train-in, and make sure that those hardy souls who seem to live by the number of times they can copy the same stack of receipts are in attendance? Share the time spent playing in the virtual oven. Or better yet; if you jam it, you stay there until the status panel is cleared. No nasty surprises for the rest of us.
