The daily adventures of a 60ish year old mom and preschool teacher-turned-church secretary as she crosses into the realm of the real world. She uses her preschool mentality in the confines of the church she is pretending to play secretary in, and has discovered that sometimes life is more manageable from that point of view.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
I don’t know if I have written about our new copy machine, Biz. Our superman IT guy searched far and wide to find the perfect fit for our needs. The process had the feel of an overseas adoption- minus some of the paperwork, and in some ways parallels that process with one exception being he did not have to fly oversees to see the new “babe”.. When the fateful arrival day came along, and the baby blanket-like bubblewrapped new kid on the block was delivered into his new home, the copy room “nursery” I liked him immediately. He seemed a little adolescentish in his demeanor, his buttons and sound. As I’ve gotten to know him, I would say that initial observation has proven true. He can be temperamental and obstinate, and is a little complicated to manage at times, but we have bonded…. As well as you can bond with a copy machine. Being a mom of older children, I probably shouldn’t say this, but to tell you the truth, he is a little easier to understand than some (who shall remain nameless) adolescents I have known.
I put a note on him when he first came to us saying something like, “ Hi. I am Biz, the new copy machine. I am wary of strangers. If you have any questions, please ask Melanie, thank you.” Yes, I took the youngster, new and shiny as he was under my wing, loved him, nurtured him, programmed him to accept staff color copy requests.
That note has saved us many a service visit from the BizHub people, I’m sure. Over time, I put my own cheat sheet of how to work the machine up on the wall behind him, so I can go in and just read and follow. Being elderly in my ability to recall directions, the directions on the wall were a purely selfish move…I recall seeing the 5 operating direction books that came with him when he first was born into our church family, and realized pretty darn quick, that unless I was having trouble with insomnia, those books really held no real usefulness or meaning for me. The wall pictures and notes came in handy for others, too, but I discovered if you weren’t standing in just the right place, you would not notice the quick how- to directions, so I traced my feet in silver marker on the floor in front of the machine. That unfortunate visual has somehow helped the ability of others to use Biz tremendously. When you look down to see if your feet are in the right spots, you are forced to notice the keypad that holds all the buttons the directions refer to in the How To Use sheet on the wall. Sounds silly, I know. But hey, if it works, right?