Printer Appreciation Day.

"Scrod" is a color laser printer in the research center where I work. It's a darn good printer -- a real workhorse -- but it gets a bad rap because it's so heavily used. People are quick to curse it when it breaks down or runs out of ink or paper. When Scrod is functioning perfectly, however, it's taken for granted. I wanted to use the Object Annotation task as an opportunity to rectify this situation, if only slightly. Scrod may not be a "public object" in the strictest sense of the term, but as far as this building goes, it's probably one of the most highly-trafficked areas around -- almost everyone prints something out over the course of a day.

My approach was to annotate Scrod with an honest expression of my affection and gratitude for the fine printing it does every day. The process was simple: (1) spill my guts on a handwritten letter; (2) affix the letter to Scrod via Scotch tape on a business day (Friday morning) to ensure mass exposure; and (3) hope Scrod finds a free moment in the day to glance over it and see where I'm coming from. The first two steps went without a hitch. As for the third...I may have just imagined it, but when I passed by Scrod later that day, I'm pretty sure its Paper Tray 2 was smiling at me ever so slightly.

Dear Scrod,

I just wanted to express my gratitude for the great work you've done for me this year. You are so stolid and reliable. Every time I send you a print job, I know I can count on you to produce a crisp, brilliantly-colored physical manifestation -- on time and without complaint. Even when I print several copies of the same document to try out different layouts, or forget to turn on duplex mode, you're patient and understanding. I don't want to embarrass you, but I don't want you to feel taken for granted, either. Thank you, Scrod.

Update: Just a few hours later, my annotation inspired a copycat annotation.



The black-and-white laser printer next to Scrod, a temperamental fellow named "Dad", was graced with a similar annotation, if slightly more rambling and less supportive.

An Open Letter to Dad-

I miss Mom. Several years ago, I was torn away from Mom, brought over to live in this strange new place. I was worried at first, but then was reassured that we'd always have you, Dad.

Well frankly, you're unreliable and get cranky way too often. You're always getting on my case and making my simple tasks much more complicated. Maybe it's your way of teaching me 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'

But then I think back to the days when Mom was around. Mom was reliable; you could always count on Mom to get the job done. I know Mom was older, but take a good look at yourself. Being young is nothing if you're all beat up and jaded.

I think you need help. Maybe you need to take a little vacation, go off someplace and recuperate and come back all refreshed.

My initial reaction was perplexed. I wanted to avoid making Dad feel left out, much less baldly insulted. Clearly, this anonymous annotator had a bone to pick with Dad and used my heartfelt revelation as an opportunity to air out his grievances. But I suppose I can't lay blame. The mysterious message-writer didn't know the rules. So it goes.

In all, I'm glad I annotated this object. Now, I can earnestly say I'm not part of the problem; I'm part of the solution. At the very least, I made a printer happier (and, inadvertently, another printer more miserable). At most, I changed Scrod's life -- maybe just slightly -- for the better. I can live with that.