Purchased a while ago, stored as a backup because who wants that stressful situation when an important document must be printed with signature to add and there is no ink in the printer?
Only fools don’t prepare for all eventualities and all that.
Well on Friday the 13th, no less, I did urgently need to print said document and the laugh really was on me because I felt assured that my stored, sealed cartridge only purpose had been to sit there in the drawer just waiting for it’s moment. As I lifted it out of the drawer, I imagined how awful it would be to have not had this cartridge on this day.
I clicked it into place - fresh, crisp black ink against white paper would soon be mine.
The printer thought about it, clattering ensued as the paper began to emerge. But what was this? Second attempt, third attempt. Blank sheet after blank sheet with each amused repeat drawing me closer to that expletive word salad finale when I would realise that this had been a horribly, hopeless pride in HP’s ability to grant me identity. I didn’t exist on paper. Unless my document was intended to be deciphered by a secret agent at a later date, all I had was invisible ink. As the clock’s minutes accelerated, I knew I must relinquish any Smidgel smugness over that lone, ink cartridge - saviour of the day.
I prised my sweaty palms from the sides of the printer to see the words ‘Error, this ink cartridge is faulty’.
My brain said “Bahahaha, and you thought you were prepared, pah! Life is hard and cruel, understand this”
So now, here I am on a Sunday, yet again, buying black ink cartridges. Three this time! All in the hope of overthrowing any propensity for despair.