by A. Fader

Created on: February 27, 2009

I wouldn't say Mondays are something that are at the top of most people's "I am looking forward to..." list. (And if they are, might I suggest finding something more exciting to do with your weekends.) No, Mondays are that one-way train that blows its whistle at the end of the weekend signaling that it's time to catch a ride back to reality, and for many of us, back to the office. And of course we know that Monday morning colleagues are bleary-eyed beasts that should be handled with care and given a lot of coffee. When you're emerging from your weekend cocoon and readying yourself to tackle the week, no one is interesting in dealing with frivolous issues such as why the coffee pot hasn't been refilled by the last person to use it, or that the boss wants to know why your time sheets are eight weeks overdue; and for the most part, almost everyone in the office respects this unspoken accord and we stay out of each other's way. Everyone except one person that is, or should I say one thing. If I were to describe my relationship with this thing the most accurate description that comes to mind is "arch nemesis": If my day is sunny, it will rain on my parade; if I'm in a hurry it refuses to work; if I'm just looking for a little cooperation, it offers me futility. This thing which I speak of is, of course, the photocopier. This piece of equipment has been the bane of my existence since I set foot in the office as an eager, young professional fresh out of school. The photocopier and I rarely agree on anything throughout the week, but on one particular Monday morning in the not-so-distant past, the photocopier and I almost came to blows. Allow me to regale you with this tale of loathing and defiance in an office like any other, and you'll come to see why Monday mornings and the photocopier just don't mix.

On this particular Monday I arrived at the office only to be immediately greeted by the bald headed, unable-to-do-anything-for-himself Drew Carey look-alike I worked with. He dropped off some "very important" documents that needed to be sent off to a client pronto. No problem - to the photocopier! Now because this guy was something of a disorganized, unkempt homosapien, the original documents were a wrinkled mess and as the paper was fed through the copier, the machine (which isn't the brightest piece of equipment on the of best days) flashed it's little red light alerting me there was a paper jam. However, being the brilliant individual that I am, I noticed that the

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