X is for Fax

I moved to Nashville in 1985, with no job and only knowing a few people. One of those few people was the receptionist at a downtown law firm, and she helped me get a job there. The job was that of a runner, meaning I ran various legal documents to such places as the courthouse and to other law offices, sometimes walking, sometimes driving my car. 

New to the city, I didn't know my way around and got lost fairly regularly, both on foot and in my car. In my early days working there, one of the attorneys sent me to a law office a few blocks away to deliver documents and even drew me a map. He then watched me from his 18th story window as I stood on a corner, below, completely confused, turning the map this way and that, trying to get my bearings (which I finally did, no thanks to his lousy map). Another time, an attorney sent me to a business to pick up a document, giving me directions to get there, which included traveling most of the way on a one-way street, but not telling me how to get back to the office, since the one-way street prevented me from retracing my route. I ended up inside a government housing project, probably the single highest crime area in the entire city, and drove around it, white-knuckled, until I found my way back out again.

So, I may have had a bit of a reputation of being a little dingy. 

One day, one of the attorneys gave me some documents and told me to take them to a business a block or so away to have them sent to an attorney out of town via telefax.

I just stared at him. Send them HOW?

I walked slowly to the business (I want to say it was FedEx, but I can't be sure about that; it's been awhile). I handed the man behind the counter my document.

He did something magical that I couldn't see, then told me it was sent.

Then he handed me the document back.

My eyes were spinning pinwheels. Inside my head, I was screaming, "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU SENT IT WHEN YOU'RE HANDING IT BACK TO ME?!"

I held the document and looked at the man, pretty sure one of us was crazy and it wasn't me. He began helping another customer, and I slowly walked back to the office.

When I got to the office, I handed the attorney the papers, waiting for him to ask me why I didn't have them sent like he had asked, and instead, he thanked me for getting them sent and put them in a file. 

I finally had to ask him how it was sent when it was right. here. He told me the information was sent over the telephone line, but I was still completely and utterly flummoxed, because any idiot knows a paper can't GO THROUGH A TELEPHONE LINE. 

And now? Now I get irritated when my iPhone doesn't load a webpage immediately.

I've come a long way, baby!