The capability of the collection of electronic/mechanical devices that populate our homes today is remarkable. One of my most useful tools is my printer.
Actually the term printer is a major understatement — my printer is a copy machine, a scanner, a fax machine, and a wireless communication instrument, as well as a powerhouse for printing files from my computer.
It is an indispensable asset to my hobby of pen-and-ink sketching, providing properly scaled images for me. It was equally valuable for my wife’s painting avocation, because of its ability to reproduce subtle differences in color. When she was in her “sepia phase”, it provided us with the ability to convert any monochromatic image into exactly the right shade.
About a year and a half ago I decided it was time for me to retire a battered old veteran which had served me well for many years. I was pleased to learn that I could replace it with a powerful machine for about one hundred and twenty-five dollars and have been equally pleased with the performance of the replacement.
Of course, despite the modest initial cost of the printer, its life cycle cost was dominated by the expense of replacing ink cartridges. At my level of usage I easily spent more money on ink in the first year than I had spent buying the printer. I was reminded of Gillette Razor’s business plan based on giving away safety razors and profiting on the sale of blades.
Two weeks ago I began to experience streaky prints, a sure sign that my cartridges were running dry. I accessed the troubleshooting screen and confirmed that was indeed the case. A trip to Office Depot and a significant financial investment provided me with three replacement cartridges.
As is the usual case, my careful installation of the new cartridges rewarded me with confirmation that they were indeed official ones, not some cheap imitation. However, when I tried to print a color image, all I got was black and white.
Long ago I learned that the first step in resolving a technology problem in the twenty-first century is to shut down the device completely and then reboot it, hoping that returning to factory defaults will eliminate the problem.
That didn’t work this time, so once again I accessed the troubleshooting screen on the printer, followed all the instructions, ending up printing a diagnostic page to be scanned for resolution of the problem. The printer, surprisingly, refused to scan the page even though it easily scanned other images upon command.
I escalated my diagnostic efforts by downloading the user manual for the printer on my laptop computer. This led to another sequence of steps, including cleaning the print-head, and another dead end.
At this point I decided to give up and call the technical services department of the corporation that supplied the printer, so I accessed their website and immediately encountered an imposing series of “Frequently Asked Questions”, none of which were appropriate to my difficulty.
In frustration I searched for a phone number – if only I could talk to a competent human being! No such luck, the best advice I could find was to join a user chat group and hope someone there would help me.
Even that was difficult. “Wiseoldowl” was already taken as a username, as was “Wiseroldowl”. For the third time in less than a year I had to settle for “Wisestoldowl”. I wonder who my competitors are and how wise they actually are.
Eventually I achieved access to the chat room and reported my problem in great detail. A day or so later I got a reply from someone claiming to be an employee of the company who built and sold my printer. Out of pity for me, he supplied me with an eight hundred number that should get me to a techie.
I was so thrilled with this privilege that I placed a call immediately. Sure enough I found myself foundering in the familiar automated answering environment, but somehow was able to make contact with a live human being who described himself as a technical service specialist.
He was wonderful – patient, sensitive, and respectful. He started through a long list of questions and suggestions. Had I tried shutting down and rebooting? ….cleaning the print-head? …..reloading the initial software? etc., etc., etc.
Once I satisfied him I had done all the prescribed activities, he asked for the serial number of the machine, and confirmed I had been able to find it. He then told me to remove the magenta cartridge and tell him its serial number. Removing it was easy, finding the number required a very bright light and a lot of imagination.
His response to the cartridge number was to advise me to put it back in place, making sure it was properly seated. At that point he announced, “Now that we have completed all the diagnostic steps, it is safe for us to conclude that the printer is broken”. Somehow I resisted the temptation to respond, “Welcome to the club!”
He confirmed that the printer was out of warranty, then asked me to stay on the line while he discussed my case with his manager to see what could be done to help me. Déjà vu – I was back in a used car showroom being manipulated by “Slick Willie”.
Sure enough his manager was sympathetic and allowed him to sell me a replacement printer at discount – eighty nine dollars. I was immediately grateful at their largesse in getting me out of my problem, so I confirmed the order, thanked him profusely, and hung up.
As I pondered why they were so good to me I realized that they had sold me a new machine, at their wholesale cost, and had committed me to a future continuing to buy cartridges from them indefinitely.
Of course there is also the possibility that the whole thing was a massive scam aimed at stealing my identity. But which identity would that be?
Am I a fortunate consumer, grateful that I have been treated so favorably by a giant multi-national corporation? Or a gullible octogenarian who has been skillfully manipulated by a fast-talking techie? Or a shrewd technology consumer who has managed to navigate his way out of a puzzling problem?
I will leave that decision to my readers. Personally I am leaning toward “gullible”.