L.A. Stories- Jaime vs. Konica

I was peacefully settled at my favorite Intern desk at my CulverCity Internship. It's a large wooden desk, with lots of drawers and a super-comfortable over-upholstered armchair which squeaks like a Kraken. Whenever a portion of a script is awful, I like to swivel the chair in a violent circle and inflict the pain on every intern within earshot. Once I have their attention, I'll read the offending passage and we'll all groan together.
It goes something like this:
In the script, a grizzled lawyer skis down a slope, whooshing though the icy night air, then walks into his ramshackle office and discovers a message from his secretary, who quit because he wouldn't pay her. He takes a swig of alcohol, stares at his dissheveled, grizzled (yet somehow also ruggedly handsome) face in a broken mirror and utters the worst phrase I've ever read as an intern: "The defense rests."
-swivelSKREEEEEEEE!!!!!
And we all fall down.
I was enjoying some reading, and had just about found my groove when I was called into the other room.
Mark, my boss, looks at me and says,
"I'm trying to print out these color graphic novel pages but they won't come out of the coper."
I look at the copier. It has some crypic "error 55-11" message on it. I relay that to Mark and he tells me, "I know. It's done this before and we have to have the guy come out. I need you to fix it."
Crap. Stupid me, I have a degree in screenwriting, not copier repair.
After trying all the usual copier-jostling and finnegling, nothing is working. I call Konica's help line and they tell me that since it's Friday at 3PM, they can't get anyone out to fix the machine until Monday morning. I explain that it's copying things for very important people. They are not impressed and stand their ground. Crap.
I relay this information to Mark, and offer to run to Kinko's if he can put his images on a zip drive. I can have them printed and on his desk in 20 minutes.
"No!" Mark turns cherry red and blows up. "I called you in here because I want you to fix it. I want YOU to dix it. I want to see how you handle this- this is a challenge. So fix it!!!"
Totally taken aback, I retreat to the Konica and stare it down... Did I just get yelled at?
This Konica is massive- it's the kind of copier which has twin turbine engines and a coach and first class sections. It collates. It hole punches. It has Hadron Collider applications. It's epic and scary. Which is why it takes trained technicians to fix it.

Not easily daunted, I start prying open drawers and eventually find SEVEN instruction manuals. They're all for different portions of the machine. I go online to a Konica site and I'm looking for a support chat room or something where I can troubleshoot it with a Konica representative, and I have the office assistant calling to set up the monday appointment.
A few minutes go by as I frantically leaf through the self-help books. Finally, I see a section on error codes.
As I'm flipping to the right page, Mark rounds the corner and says, "It's taking too long. This is ridiculous."
I'm literally on my knees on the floor leafing through these books.
"Do you want me to-"
"No!" He cuts me off. "20 minutes is too long. That's failure. This was a challenge and you failed!"
He walked away as I begin to work my eyelids like a fiend, blinking back hot stupid girl tears.
Don't cry don't cry don't cry.
He asked me to tilt at a windmill then yelled at me when I couldn't do it fast enough. And it sucked.
So I went back to the desk and sulked for a few hours.
Later, Mark found me and appologized, explaining that he was sorry he blew up at me- that he was mad about something else.
Gee-ya think?
Still- his words are so deliciously over-the-top punitive, I will cherish them always.
"This was a challenge, and you failed."
swivel-SKREEEEEE!!!!
You win this round, Konica.