So without further ado...the top 5 reasons I hope every Fedex owned office service center implodes in on itself instantaneously.
#5. They don't care about you.
The kinko's employees, I call them kinkies, would rather skin a live grizzly than do something for you. I recognize that as a customer, my project is the biggest deal in the world to me, but to them its just another print job, but please, a little help here. Show a little concern since you guys are suppsoed to be the document people. And another thing, why is it there is always a working area behind the desk the size of a football field and two people manning the stations. There are yards of expensive equipment arranged and powered back there and it always looks like the two working the wheels were the last two left standing after an intelligence-seeking bomb ripped through the place. Despite all the equipment back there they always want you to do things yourself, which leads me to...
#4. The Gear
You came to Kinko's with a CD, the CD has a color PDF on it that is 16 pages, you need 20 copies of it for a presentation you're giving. While it would be easier for you to hand it to Kinky and get it done, no-no, he is too busy not assisting other customers. And so, he directs you to the self serve computers that line the place. Looking for a deal, you head to the basic PC, after all printing a PDF isn't rocket science. Unfortunately, a basic machine at Kinko's is a Dell from 1998, running Windows 95. It operates as if it were purchased from a serial porn-viewer on Craig's List. The mouse pointer jerks across the screen like a cocker-spaniel trying to catch the dot from a laser pointer. The keyboard has a thin but measurable film of human residue left over the course of the machine's decade of service. All of that would be bad enough...except for the other thing....
#3. You're on the clock.
The fine folks at FedEx aren't quite kind enough to give you access to these glistening towers of computing power for free. No, no. You have to pay, by the minute. I forget the rate now I think its $25 a minute or so, but adding to the excruciating login time, the computer requires you insert your credit card so it can process payments. I find it both ironic and infuriating that the computer holds your card like a bouncer with an ID until it's good and done with you. In return a small window pops up maintaining a running total of just how deeply you're getting screwed by this glacially-paced, whore of a machine. Despite the computing set-backs, Adobe Acrobat launches (well if it takes 3 minutes does is qualify as a launch? more like a climb) and I can print my document, I click print, on color_laser_1 and.....
#2. Print? You Came to Print?
Two things happen, one I am informed by the digital bouncer holding my credit card that I will be charged roughly 18 bucks a page for color copies, because apparently despite the leaps made in printing technologies it still costs the rough equivalent of a space shuttle launch to get a document done here. Fine, I accept the charges (i.e. bend over). Then the second thing happens...nothing.
I sit, look around, and yes, yes indeed from the row of printers I see exactly nothing printing. This does not prevent the clock on my machine from ticking the dollars away mind you. It just means that there are no pages emerging. I investigate. I am looking for color_laser_1. Shouldn't be too hard. A large business like this with access to devices like labels must have taken the 3 minutes necessary to label their printers. But I forgot, I am in the second circle of hell and there is no indication which printer is screwing me. And so I head to the desk.
"Pardon me, one of your evil little printers is taking my money, and refusing to work."
Kinky comes over and determines that color_laser_1 is out of paper he loads it. But the job as timed out. So I need to reload, will I be charged? He doesn't know, but I do....I grab my ankles again, accept the charges and finally pages emerge.
Somewhat satisfied and certainly lighter in the wallet, I close out my account with the vile computer and stack of paper in hand make my way out the door. Then, my number one reason for hating Kinko's takes hold.
#1. I hate the person I become.
We've all experienced that person. The one who hates their life and decides to take it out on everyone around them. I realize as I try to bustle my way to trimming/stapeling area, that I have become that douche bag. I'm overdressed, stressed out, short on time, and just got taken for a ride on the Kinko's cyclone and I hate my surroundings and the people in them. I snap and people, I cut the line, I am the asshole and I hate it. I have no one but Kinko's and myself to blame, however, I blame Kinkos.