Here’s a doozy, dear readers:

The boss needed to print out some important documents. He moved more quickly than is typical for him. I even spotted one terrified bead of perspiration clinging to his right temple as he tensely shuffled to the printer.

The documents he retrieved were blank.

After the clangs and hollow thuds of molded plastic (which had been mistook for a dream one might shake and jam back into its more hopeful functioning), the receptionist turned round and offered assistance. I sipped Arnold Palmer from my commuter mug and watched him accept.

The receptionist darted to the printer hunched over and uttering short, unintelligible phrases:

“Ops.”

“Eh-weg-uh.”

“Fooooor…”

“Nope-ah.”

Until:

“Got it!!”

She switched out the toner, and the boss was able to print his important documents, whatever they might be.

*Long sip with many air bubbles*