Toner Lung

Copying tax returns is a big part of my job at the Tax Place. M and I use the copier so much, in fact, that I am convinced we will both develop a rare and debilitating disease. I first became aware of my risk of contracting Toner Lung when I noticed the acrid, tangy fumes permeating the air around the over-used office apparatus. They definitely smell harmful, and they make your nose sting when you inhale. My fears were compounded when M began exhibiting likely symptoms of the illness. She was coughing more than usual, and complained about her frequent sneezing. Both symptoms, to me, are sure signs of aggravated respiratory passages.

And then there's M's accountant. Now that I think of it, I'm positive Toner Lung is the cause of his constant throat-clearing. Hmm. Or, rather, "Hrm."

Aside from slightly searing my fingertips by touching the copies before they've fully cooled, I've yet to experience any adverse copier-related effects. But I have had several mechanical issues with the machine in the past few days. Shortly before leaving on Monday afternoon, I picked up a five-state, 18 shareholder return to assemble. Just the original document was about as thick as an entire package of paper, so I knew the multiple copies I had to make would produce a staggering pile. I was about halfway through the arduous replicating process when I accidentally caught and slightly opened one of the multiple doors on the top of the copier. It began beeping furiously and immediately refused to keep working.

Annoyed, I gazed at the screen to see what debilitating injury the petulant office fixture was supposedly suffering. Per the copier's instructions, I fully opened the door I'd just bumped and cleared the mis-fed sheet from 5A. Once that had been taken care of, the screen insisted that I open the front door and check for a jam in the cavernous compartment it concealed. I did as I was told, and was shocked at what I found. There was paper everywhere. 3A, 3B, 3C and 2A were all clogged. I managed to clear all the afflicted sections and safely shut the door without burning myself on the fuser. But the copier kept beeping and insisting that I recheck compartment 3.

I opened the door again to find that the paper jam had seemingly regenerated itself out of nowhere. Paper had mysteriously reappeared, lodged in all the places from which I'd just removed it. I diligently pulled out all the firmly lodged sheets and shut the door. The copier resumed its protest, and the same series of events occurred at least twice more. Finding my usual small-repair capabilities exhausted, I sought the aid of my supervisor. She deleted the current print job (I'd cancelled it, but that must not have been definitive enough for the copier to understand) and cleared paper from sections I didn't even know existed. Her assistance silenced the copier's aggravating beeps and left it in perfect working order. By then it was time for me to go home. I was relieved to do so and left the rest of the burdensome copying process for the next morning.

After that debacle, each copy endeavour I've undertaken has run smoothly. Until this morning. I had to use a different copier than normal in order to take advantage of its ability to stamp COPY across documents as it replicates them. What I didn't realise was that while this copier has superior extra features, it's not as intuitive as the copier to which I am accustomed. This new machine doesn't sort the document unless you specifically ask it to do so. I wasn't aware of this until it was far too late.

I loaded my 50-plus page return into the tray, changed the number of copies to three and waited. I watched, slightly horrified, as the copier spat three copies of page two on top of three copies of page one, three copies of page three on top of three copies of page two, and so on. It was a small disaster. Rather than simply picking up a neatly staggered stack of three complete returns, I had to collate the documents by hand when they came off the printer.

Despite the tedium of this task, it didn't actually take too long. And now I know better. I'd still prefer dealing with jams and unsorted documents to suffering from Toner Lung.