Two Cubic Inches of Hell
Technology has come so far in my lifetime, even just in this century. My first self-purchased printer, not long after we moved here 13 years ago, was a dot-matrix Epson job that practically sprayed the walls with excess ink and was expensive enough to have its own finance contract. I supplemented that with an only slightly obolete fax machine from our main office, which was the size of a small third world country and printed on thermal paper. Scanning? That was something Mr. Spock did.
Fast-forward to this very week. Now, there's an all-in-one unit a yard from my right elbow, which performs all of these functions faster, better and cheaper, but which still manages to share one vital link to its stone-knives-and-bearskins cousins:
They still break. And it still sucks just as much when they do.
As with many products, from cars to razors to technology items, the purchase of a product is the beginning, not the end, of what the seller hopes will be a long and beautiful friendship. In the case of things like printers and fax machines, the price-point relationship between The Entire Freaking Original Unit (a multifunctioning mixture of moving parts and input-output devices) and The Replacement Ink/Toner Cartridge (nothing more than a spritzing of ink, some plastic casing and a computer chip or two) is perhaps the strangest. My current all-in-one HP unit cost me all of 99 bucks, not particularly on sale at the time, but each time I need to replace either its black ink (once a month, easy) or its tri-color cartridge (coupla times a year), I drop between 15 and 20 bucks for a two-cubic-inch box of food coloring that is the machine's stupidest, and yet at the same time most vital, of links.
This particular model comes linked to monitoring/diagnostic software on the computer itself, which among other things tells you when your ink is starting to run low. Apparently this program was written by the Boy Who Cried "Low," since the thing starts blinking weeks before it runs out yet offers no warning at all when it actually does. To keep the Office Max/Depot/Whorehouse trips to a minimum, I try to keep at least one extra black cartridge in the bullpen, for a seamless switch when the well really does run dry.
As if.
----
Late yesterday, just as the text on my latest client engagement letter started breaking off its engagement, I replaced the House Brand knockoff of the HP56 cartridge with the other House brand knockoff I had in reserve, purchased at exactly the same time. Lights blinked, bells rang, and I got a lovely new message on my PC monitor:
There is an unknown error with your cartridge. Please consult your documentation.
Right. Thanks for clearing THAT up.
I resorted to my two usual diagnostic tools- whacking the side of the printer near the cartridge door, and spraying the shit out of the cartridge and its receptacle, mmmmm kinky male-female adapter printer sex, with canned air. This produced five entire printed pages before the bed, it shit itself again. An hour and twelve useless miles later after a trip back to the supply store- lengthened mercilessly by the legions of crumbcrunchers and their parents who all, seemingly, got their middle school supply lists that very afternoon- I had a replacement Knockoff 56 to insert.
This one was too weird to even register with the PC. Instead, the printer's own display scrolled this message:
Error- this cartridge is not intended for use with this unit.
Well, sheeyet. My whole workday today, including a time-sensitive appeal, was being threatened by a two-cubic-inch pile of Crayola. Or maybe that Y should be a P.
----
Morning came, and I headed back to the store for a third time, determined to beat the sleeping-in little brats, and just as determined to swear off the Knockoff house brand (heavily promoted, through ads and extra Rewards Card points, as JUST AS GOOD AS THE REAL THING) in favor of, well, the real Real Thing.
The store manager checked me out. As soon as he saw the HP box next to his own store's knockoff, he pointed to the latter, and said, "Oh, NEVER buy those, they're not as good as the ::genuflect at the real HP gods:: real thing."
Gee, Clyde. Thanks for telling me that the FIRST three times I was in here for just this one fucking little box.
The printer practically orgasmed when I loaded a Genuine HP product into its vagina. Appeals have been filed and engagement letters sent. All this on account of a buying decision which produced a three-dollar saving back in July.
Taking care of business, my ass.
Fast-forward to this very week. Now, there's an all-in-one unit a yard from my right elbow, which performs all of these functions faster, better and cheaper, but which still manages to share one vital link to its stone-knives-and-bearskins cousins:
They still break. And it still sucks just as much when they do.
As with many products, from cars to razors to technology items, the purchase of a product is the beginning, not the end, of what the seller hopes will be a long and beautiful friendship. In the case of things like printers and fax machines, the price-point relationship between The Entire Freaking Original Unit (a multifunctioning mixture of moving parts and input-output devices) and The Replacement Ink/Toner Cartridge (nothing more than a spritzing of ink, some plastic casing and a computer chip or two) is perhaps the strangest. My current all-in-one HP unit cost me all of 99 bucks, not particularly on sale at the time, but each time I need to replace either its black ink (once a month, easy) or its tri-color cartridge (coupla times a year), I drop between 15 and 20 bucks for a two-cubic-inch box of food coloring that is the machine's stupidest, and yet at the same time most vital, of links.
This particular model comes linked to monitoring/diagnostic software on the computer itself, which among other things tells you when your ink is starting to run low. Apparently this program was written by the Boy Who Cried "Low," since the thing starts blinking weeks before it runs out yet offers no warning at all when it actually does. To keep the Office Max/Depot/Whorehouse trips to a minimum, I try to keep at least one extra black cartridge in the bullpen, for a seamless switch when the well really does run dry.
As if.
----
Late yesterday, just as the text on my latest client engagement letter started breaking off its engagement, I replaced the House Brand knockoff of the HP56 cartridge with the other House brand knockoff I had in reserve, purchased at exactly the same time. Lights blinked, bells rang, and I got a lovely new message on my PC monitor:
There is an unknown error with your cartridge. Please consult your documentation.
Right. Thanks for clearing THAT up.
I resorted to my two usual diagnostic tools- whacking the side of the printer near the cartridge door, and spraying the shit out of the cartridge and its receptacle, mmmmm kinky male-female adapter printer sex, with canned air. This produced five entire printed pages before the bed, it shit itself again. An hour and twelve useless miles later after a trip back to the supply store- lengthened mercilessly by the legions of crumbcrunchers and their parents who all, seemingly, got their middle school supply lists that very afternoon- I had a replacement Knockoff 56 to insert.
This one was too weird to even register with the PC. Instead, the printer's own display scrolled this message:
Error- this cartridge is not intended for use with this unit.
Well, sheeyet. My whole workday today, including a time-sensitive appeal, was being threatened by a two-cubic-inch pile of Crayola. Or maybe that Y should be a P.
----
Morning came, and I headed back to the store for a third time, determined to beat the sleeping-in little brats, and just as determined to swear off the Knockoff house brand (heavily promoted, through ads and extra Rewards Card points, as JUST AS GOOD AS THE REAL THING) in favor of, well, the real Real Thing.
The store manager checked me out. As soon as he saw the HP box next to his own store's knockoff, he pointed to the latter, and said, "Oh, NEVER buy those, they're not as good as the ::genuflect at the real HP gods:: real thing."
Gee, Clyde. Thanks for telling me that the FIRST three times I was in here for just this one fucking little box.
The printer practically orgasmed when I loaded a Genuine HP product into its vagina. Appeals have been filed and engagement letters sent. All this on account of a buying decision which produced a three-dollar saving back in July.
Taking care of business, my ass.