"It's having a metaphysical breakdown."
"Oh. So... it's not going to come out?"
"It's never going to come out of it."
"No, I mean the paper. The paper's not going to come out."
"Oh. No."
The copy machine has taken a fit, it's throwing a postmodern tantrum, it's having a crisis of self-definition. I understand, I've been there, but thank god I have the power of language to sort through my crises. The poor guy, all he has is one touch-screen, smeared with the blunt jabs of an engineer's heavy finger. And a red alert-light.
The light comes on, a dull, pinkish glow, and the screen displays an image of the machine, a self-portrait, a pixelated indication of nothing. This is who I am, it seems to say. This is who I am and this is all I'll ever be and frankly, it is just too much to go on.
1 comments:
isn't the whole point of a job to be in an environment in which you're communicating with PEOPLE??! you need a new job you're too talented
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