What the #@$&?

is my usual reaction as it sputters to a halt, beeping twice and flashing lights red with anger.

So far, the most challenging aspect of this job has not been learning student names, adjusting to team-teaching methods, or working full-time in a Japanese environment. It’s been making photocopies.

For a country that exports cutting-edge Cannon and Konica products, this private school (not short on endowment from 2,300 students) uses off-brand machines without a paper feeder. If you thought finicky office machinery in America was frustrating, try your hand at making copiers cooperate that are fluent only in Japanese.

One of the three machines is often out of order. When errors arise, the pictorial diagrams popping up on the LCD screen are just as incomprehensible as the message…usually something about door A on the front of the copier.

The most dreaded encounter is with the toner, which magically runs dry whenever I step up to the machine. Spent toner rolls must be unraveled like an inky accordion, rubbing off on hands and clothing. It’s a dirty job, so rather than messing with it, I switch to the next machine.

When that, too, fails, my technical know-how springs into action. The best solution to get the gears whirling is also the simplest. In fact, it’s sort of like playing pinball – rock the machine while blindly pushing buttons until you hit the jackpot. Observe:

Step 1: Open door A.
Step 2: Yank random lever.
Step 3: Slam door A.
Step 4: Repeat steps 1-3
Step 5: Kick machine where it hurts. If no response within 15 seconds, kick again harder.

To further get out aggressions, I turn on Mac – my name for the guillotine of a paper cutter that gathers dust by the window. This thing could slice through a Redwood. It, too, is vintage, yet is smartly designed (activating the cutter button requires both hands after turning a key).

If office machines could date, Mac would be the meathead boyfriend of Ms. Shredder. That’s the actual name of a dainty lil’ thing unable to shred more than three sheets at a time. She’s so temperamental that she’s better left unplugged, just like some of the girls in my homeroom you’re about to meet.