Printer Fatigue

My printer ink reservoir of patience and calm has run dry. I am exhausted and stressed – it is not a good place to be. I am in mourning for my late lamented printer.

In April 2020, we bought a new printer on eBay. Despite Lockdown, or probably because of it, it arrived in super quick time. It took no time to set up and before we knew it, our shiny new peripheral device was pumping out copies with breathtaking speed. Its silent sleekness, a joy to behold.

It was time to say goodbye to my old printer workhorse. I carried it, cradling it in my arms with the dignity it deserved after eight years of faithful service. I felt bad, because it still worked, albeit slowly, and guzzled ink by the litre. But, I blotted out my reservations and bidding it a fond farewell, I dropped it in the dustbin.

One month later, the new printer ground noisily to a halt. We contacted the supplier who, despite it being under guarantee, fobbed us off, giving us the contact details for the manufacturer. Any of you who found yourselves in the unfortunate position of speaking to a real person in a major manufacturer during Lockdown will know that it is almost impossible. Everything you could possibly want to know can be found on their website, except when you want to send something back.

I eventually got to speak to a Spanish customer service representative who, unquestionably, had a better grasp of the English language than she did when it came to speaking it. She could have well been talking one of several different languages. However, she did manage to send me an email, asking me to rate her performance. I didn’t, I couldn’t, because she didn’t solve anything, including making it easier for me to understand her English.

One month on again and fobbed off from all sides, I finally get to speak to someone who referred me back to the supplier, who agreed it was down to them to replace it. Still, we would have to return it to them, and the supplier arranged to collect the printer, which took them the best part of a month.

Last week we got our money back and re-ordered a printer elsewhere. ‘Delivery in two days,’ they said. I was ecstatic. Two days later, they emailed me to say there was a hiccup at the warehouse. They were short of stock, and there would be a delay.

I rang Jersey Mail on Monday afternoon, and they confirmed it had arrived in the Island. They assured me it would out for an early delivery the following morning. I watched the parcel postmen stop in the drive on Tuesday afternoon. My heart was racing.  Watching from an upstairs window, the postie delivered part of my Amazon grocery order. No printer. I ring Jersey Mail.

‘Where is my printer?’ I ask, hopefully.

‘Oh, it was put on the wrong vehicle for delivery today. It will be delivered tomorrow instead.’

‘I’ll come and get it!’ I squeak.

‘Oh, but it might have been put back in the wrong place.’

‘Wrong place! What?’

‘It will definitely be delivered tomorrow.’ So this morning, I ring up around 10 a.m. to double-check.

‘Is it on its way?’ I ask, again, hopefully.

‘Um, well no. There was no house name on the address label, so we returned it to the supplier… last night.’

‘No, no, no!’ My heart starts to pound, and I feel my face flush. ‘You can’t have sent it back!’

‘It’s a company procedure. If we don’t have the correct address.’

‘But you did! I’ve been chasing the thing since Monday. You had my contact details and tracking reference!’ I want to cry.  We’ve been without a printer since June.

Instead of wailing, I ring up the supplier around 11.30 a.m. and regale the sad returned to sender scenario. They promise to despatch another one immediately, but next day delivery from the UK to Jersey, Channel Islands, is not always possible.

It is now, 3 p.m. and I have yet to have confirmation that it has been despatched. But, I did have a chat with our lovely parcel postman around 2 p.m. this afternoon. I couldn’t stop myself from telling him about the sad printer saga.

‘Oh, it was yours, was it? I had it in the back of my van yesterday. If I’d known it was yours… But it didn’t have a house name on it.’

So, it was sitting in our drive in the back of the van yesterday afternoon when the Amazon groceries were delivered.

Argh! I want my old printer back!

Published by Tessa Barrie

Blogger from Jersey, Channel Islands UK who believes life's too short to be niche. View more posts

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