A Letter without regret

Dear Minolta EP1030,

There's no avoiding it, we have to talk, so get ready...relax...maybe take a breath or two.

You have been my copier for 18 months and everytime I turned to you, you did your best to be reliable. But you know that I know and I know that you know...this just isn't working out. I can't hide it anymore. Its only being deceptive and mean to be less than direct. You have had your doubts recently, and expressed your concern. I have to be upfront with you, you deserve that at least.

There is someone else.

I'm not saying this to put salt in a wound, but you have mentioned that I always have looked nicer on Tuesdays than any other day. Every Tuesday morning when I'm a little late to the office, I've had my truthful explanations: I really was with Ms. R's multi-age class. Those little faces give me joy and I truly like being a helpful hand to this caring teacher. She sets aside different tasks for me to work on, and kindly continues teaching while I tackle these classroom jobs. My heart gets lighter when I see that there is certain job, my hands start to sweat and my heart beats a little faster. I count the post-it notes, "There's 7 today!". My first destination is to the office work room.

I can't lie: as I pass a mirror, I check my hair and lip stick. I am slightly distracted, I'll be alone with him again. His name is, well you know him - Konica Minolta Bizhub Di 5510, black and white digital copier.

Slightly weak in the knees, I recognize that there is not a line for this supreme copy emporium...I have him all to myself. I examine the copy requests, and they are complicated today: 58, 2 sided, collated, stapled from one sided 15 page master; 27 two sided collated stapled book of journals on card stock; 40 one sided groups from 2 sided masters; 5 copies from masters on transparency; 27 copies of 1 sided groups for three subjects. There are others...all of them different, so as I begin, I carefully make sure each job is separated.

This is going to be hard for you to hear, but I have to let you know my heart is steady sure. There is no longer a future for the two of us, you and I - my heart belongs to another. Di5510 is a dreamboat. He holds nine jobs at a time in his computer memory bank, as he has begun working on one job, I am able to give him another, and another. He never says "That's too many pages, you only need 15 at a time because I need to rest for 15 minutes" or "I can only do one side at a time and then you need to let the pages cool off before you enter them in for the second printing". He never throws a temper tantrum and refuses to work all day long until the magic hour of 4:55 p.m. He never jams the paper just because its a full moon, or spits out important parts which are not in the owner's manual or bleeds all over the expensive bond paper letterhead I have prepared for special letters.

He takes care of me.

Yes, that's right, I've taken some important jobs to him, and he was a perfect gentleman. "That's what you need? I can do that in a flash." That's what I hear from him, caring and concern. Di5510 has been a rock of confidence, you've seen his work - its immaculate (no toner in the corners) and smooth (no indiscriminate paper grabbing) and neat (he collates and staples, on a slant or horizontal or vertical - all I need to do is ask!) Biz (yeah, so what we share pet names!) will copy up to 55 copies per minute. He will three hole punch any amount of copies. He will hold up to 6 reams of paper so I don't have to change him every 2 hours. (Yeah, don't roll your eyes at me, you know that's all about you!)

When I ask for 50 copies, he gives me 50 copies, not 37 1/2. (Yeah, yeah its an old arguement but you do it to me all the time, I just can't trust you anymore!)

You haven't seen very much of me lately, we've grown apart. I haven't been avoiding you, but its painful to say, I haven't needed you. I hate the way this all sounds, but I'm moving on. When my new office is ready you are staying here and there is no changing my mind about it. The mail I just got on my desk, that you keep trying to read, yeah its from him. He knows my address and phone number and someone is trying to set up a date for Di5510 and me.

As I look over this 45 page dossier with gloosy pictures and smooth talk, I feel like he just might be a little fast for me. But I'm head over heels for him, he's what I want. He might be out of my league, my budget is going to take very creative negotiating...but who needs chairs, phones, filing cabinets or pencils for that matter.

I'll have my Di5510 and I'll be happy. We can live on love, for love is what makes the world go round.

You'll forgive me someday, but you knew this was coming. You never made any effort to change or help or reach out. You've ruined the last job for me mister, I won't rely on your empty promises and your mean actions anymore. I will survive and you may survive too, if you shape up and fly right. You just can't abuse those around you and expect to get preserved. There's a dumpster coming to the corps in the very near future, you'll be able to see it out of this office window, and if you know what's good for you, you'll understand your placement on this square table is in jeopardy.

There is a chance, a slim chance that you can keep yourself out of it. Think about that Mr. Minolta EP 1030, just think careful.

Sincerely and without regret, jsi