The stupidest thing I've been a part of (recently).

(April 24, 2007)

Today I invited Ultimate Co-Worker, along with Ultimate Fiancee and Ultimate Friends, to this weekend's Republican Fest. Deb has to work, but Ultimate says he thinks he'll make a convincing Dick Cheney. Aaron says he's coming as Ann Coulter.

So, during my fifteen-minute break at work, I tried to print an Ultimare Flyer for Ultimate Co-Worker. Here's how this is supposed to work:
1. Deposit money to account.
2. Swipe student ID at nearest printer to deduct money from account.
3. Print whatever you want for six cents a page.

Having completed step one some time ago, I went to the nearest printer to complete steps two and three. I should have immediately known something was wrong when I saw a Dude and an Emo kid hunched over the printer at the same time; those two subcultures never mingle -- probably because the Dude wants to punch the Emo kid all the time, and the Emo kid would die.

Nonetheless, Dude and Emo were both staring at the printer, pressing buttons, opening doors, and being all-around take-charge kind of guys, bonding over their shared sense of confusion. They looked a lot like Hansel and Zoolander trying to get the file from the Mac. I watched this for a few seconds before asking, "Do you know what's wrong with the printer?" And then Dude said, "It says it's out of paper..." and then he opened the door where the ink goes. "How do you put paper in there?"

So then I said, while opening the paper drawer, "I think the paper goes in here because this drawer has a picture of a piece of paper on it."

Then, Dude picked up two -- seriously, two -- folded pieces of formally discarded paper beside the printer and put them in the tray. Emo identified one problem: "I bet we'll need more than two pieces of paper." And I picked another: "That's probably going to get caught in the printer."

But Dude proceeded anyway. He hit the print button again, and nothing happened. So -- I swear this is true -- I closed the paper drawer for him. And, of course, the paper immediately got jammed in the printer and I felt vindicated. That was the moment I decided to stick around to the end of the ordeal just to see what would happen.

Dude opened the correct drawer and pulled the crumpled piece of paper out. Emo turned to me, full of despair, and asked, "What do we do now?"

"Get more paper."
"Where?"
"Ask a librarian."

And then Dude and Emo both looked at me like I'd just suggested asking the Godfather for a favor on his daughter's wedding day. I could tell they were both just going to give up because the challenge of asking a librarian for paper to fill an empty printer in the library was completely insurmountable. Dude was like, "Fuck it," and walked away. Emo looked longingly at the printer, hoping that either the paper supply would magically replenish itself, or I would ask one of the librarians for paper myself. That was the moment I realized our shared experience had crossed over from the realm of the entertaining into the realm of the unbelievably stupid.

I left Emo standing at the printer as a Sorostitute approached. She stopped me, and asked, "What's wrong with it?" Assuming she was referring to the printer rather than the Emo staring at it, I told her the printer was out of paper and she gave me the same terrified look as Dude and Emo.

I fled back to work before things could get any stupider. As I relayed the story of my experience to Ultimate Co-Worker, I began to realize its full impact. I had just met three people who were so astonished by the prospect of having to take initiative to do something ridiculously simple for themselves that they were frozen with shock. No wonder some of my students still don't know how to write a thesis statement.