Blogcutter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dream

So I was in the Carleton University Library, wrestling with some kind of big machine, most likely for microforms (microfilm reels or fiche or both - some of them used to have interchangeable attachments). I needed to print off some important official documents, in preparation for a job interview. Not sure what specific documents I needed, but I'm guessing some or all of the following:

A copy of my degree(s)
A transcript of my marks
A thesis or award-winning essay or project of some sort
Certificates, letters of recommendation

Of course, the machine wasn't working properly. Worse, there was someone there waiting to use the machine after I was done. I asked her if she knew anything about these machines & how to operate and/or fix them. "Not really," she replied. I asked her if there were other microform reader/printers in another part of the library or even somewhere else on campus. "No," she said, "They used to have them but they got rid of them."

I tried all the things they used to tell you to do: turning the machine off and then back on again, checking that there was paper in there, etc. Maybe we could find a library staff member somewhere who could assist us? But of course, there was no such person around.

So then I looked through my folder to see what I DID have already. I suddenly realized that the interview I had assumed would be on campus was in fact being held somewhere off site and I had no idea how I was going to figure out where exactly it was and how I'd get there.

At that point Dianora, who was elsewhere in the library working on her own stuff, stopped by to see where I was at with everything.

"D'ya s'pose you could drive me to my job interview?" I asked plaintively.

"Of course," she said. "Where do you need to be, and at what time?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" I wailed, and resumed pawing through papers in the collapsible folder, which was itself close to collapse, as was I!

I noted that I did have copies of my resumé in there, except... they weren't good, final copies. They had all sorts of handwritten notes all over them, where I'd planned to make revisions or add stuff. I looked through them carefully and saw that on some of them, the handwriting was actually fairly neat. Maybe I could provide one of those copies to my interviewers and indicate that a final copy would follow?

I was still rummaging through the whole mess when I emerged from my dream, still feeling rather stressed.

P.S. I don't think I got the job.