Posted by: coolerbecky | December 30, 2007

Printer Surgery

On Fridays, I work as a receptionist for a little clinic. The clinic is run by Doctor A and Doctor B, who are married to each other.

Doctor A, the lady, has a tendency to string all her words together and speakveryfast. She’s also somewhat uptight. When she greets me, it’s always a deluge of words, “HiRebecca, todaytherewillbeanumberofpeoplecomingsomakesurethatIseethemall.”

Doctor B, the gentleman, is comparably easy go lucky, with a slow manner of walk and speech. He tends to come in during the afternoons and his greetings are rather slow and often take a while, “Helloooooo… Beeeeecky…. hoooow aaare yooou today?” Rather like a tape on slow.

Today, Doctor A was in with a patient when the printer at the reception desk broke down. Enter Doctor B, who, having just finished work at the city clinic, has come in for the day.

I greeted Doctor B and informed him of the issue with the printer – there was a paper jam and I can’t exactly reach the paper right now. Doctor B flashes me a calm, cool smile and heads for Doctor A’s exam room. From within the depths of this room, I suddenly hear the cry of…


This is immediately followed by Doctor A springing forth from her room like a jack-in-the-box and running laps around the waiting room, looking for medical emergencies. She is followed (much later) by Doctor B, who sort of leans against the doorframe to her exam room.

“Oh, it’s just that the printer is broken, so I would use forceps to fix it.” he says slowly.

Doctor A gives Doctor B a withering look and shakes her head, “I’ll send it out to the printer company to get it fixed.”

That plan of action having been established, Doctor A returns to her exam room and Doctor B to his. Peace within the clinic has been restored. I show the next patient to Doctor A’s room and continue to type calmly on my computer.

A moment later, Doctor B emerges from his room and makes an exaggerated shushing motion. He is holding a pair of forceps.

“Don’t let [Dr A’s petname] know.”

Before I can react, he’s pulled open the printer and stuck the forceps in them, the end result being that the foreceps AND the paper are now stuck in the printer. He smiles sheepishly, “Oh. I suppose Doctor A will send it to the printer fixers now.”

A moment later, he comes out with some more equipment to retrieve the stuck forceps. This is also unsuccessful, resulting in a printer that looks like it’s having some sort of surgery done to it.

I’m somehow glad I wasn’t there to see what happened when Doctor A discovered the printer.

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