Printers Take Themselves Too Seriously

I hate printing machines.

I hate them because they take themselves too seriously.Yes they jam. 

And yes they eat paper like it’s their emotional coping mechanism. 

And yes they pretend they don’t see the ink cartridge that I just replaced.

A printer behaves like it's performing a sacred ritual every time you ask it to print a simple document.You click "Print," and it pauses.Thinks.Hums.Grinds.Clicks.Makes a noise that sounds like a slow mechanical sigh.

Then, and only then, it begins the print job.But not before putting on its little drama.

No other machine in your house acts this way. 

Your blender doesn’t reflect before blending. 

Your kettle doesn’t warm up with an existential monologue. Your phone doesn’t hesitate when you tap.

But printers? Printers behave like bureaucrats with a deep sense of personal significance.“Ah, you want a page, do you? Hmm. We’ll see.”

They flash vague warnings in cryptic symbols.They reject perfectly good paper like sommeliers sniffing corked wine.They take offense at low ink levels.They demand alignment checks like they’re preparing for a UN summit.

All to produce… a boarding pass.

Printers are the only machine I know that both refuse to work and somehow imply that it’s your fault.You didn’t load the tray properly.You touched the button too soon.You looked at it wrong.

And don’t even start with wireless printing. That’s a full-blown test of spiritual resilience.

In the end, it’s not the technology that bothers me. It’s the attitude.Printers carry themselves like aging actors in a forgotten play — overdramatic, underappreciated, and absolutely convinced that what they do is far more important than it actually is.

All I want is a printout.

What I get is a relationship.