Got my copies. Am now punching holes, inserting binding wire. My true talent (not writing).
So the saga with the copy/printer dude ended Monday morning, getting into the third week of a job that should have taken from one day to the next, according to a couple of other copyists and Loungeteers here. It was like an episode of Reno 911, where the comic cops tell the perpetrator, "Stop (perp doesn't stop). Don't run (perp runs). Don't jump that fence (perp jumps fence). Etc." Thursday the dude claimed lightening struck his shop, knocking out his whole system. This was after the previous week when he had a death in the family and was out for three days. I don't doubt either of his problems. But the real problem was his zero communication skills, never ever set a firm delivery date, never called to explain anything, never a by-your-leave, nothing. So Thursday when he said he had the techs working on his lightning struck system, I asked like Reno 911 whether he would be back working Friday, since he's closed weekends, that it better not go on into the third week. Of course he didn't call Friday. The weekend I spent stewing and preparing a "Feedback" page 1 on the disruption he had caused me and the poor communication, and a p. 2 in case Monday he continued the non-committal delay, laying down the law on demanding a refund, or else going to the cops.
So I was dreading Monday, not only because of this coming confrontation, but also for a dental appointment. I had a nightmare with a demon in the title role. So I went to the dental appointment, was not in the mood for the cheery dental assistants, then proceeded to the copy shop. As I parked, the dude was IN the door, leaving with products. He held the door for me and pointed to the counter, where there were two boxes with my stuff. There were no customers, just his two employees. He was glowing like expecting to be gushed over. Well, I let him have it, told him I had been considerate when he had his loss, had told the employee not to bother him. He said he knew, appreciated it. I said too bad, blah blah, was ready to go to the cops, blah. I said the real problem as not the delay but the lack of communication, that there seemed to be a WALL right this side of his face. Nothing I said seemed to bother him, not even the embarrassment in front of his employees.
Anyway, I will now be punching holes and inserting binding wires for the foreseeable future. Apparently my talent is for arts and crafts, not the writing. (These pics are from the web, not my "book," but the wires are the same: )
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