My poor broken heart

We have this brand new, whizz-bang color printer here at Deskslave Central. For public use and everything. As you might expect, it never seems to work right. Lately it is working even less right than usual, which is to say not at all. So when people want to print in color, they have to somehow get their document to us and we print it out on another color printer in the work area. Such a hassle, but most people are good sports about it.

"You got a color printer," demanded the scruffy guy. He had glasses with lenses the size of windshields.

I told him that we kinda did and then detailed the fiasco situation. I was informed that this was ridiculous. And unacceptable. And several other things beside. But, since black and white was printing reasonably well, he decided to print it that way. We have one of those systems that makes would-be printers log in on a separate machine in order to get the job they sent to the printer. Again, no big deal for most. But Mr. Huffy decided to get exercised about this one, too.
"I just printed somethings. Where does it come out," he demanded.
I motioned him over to the release station. "Here let me show you," I encouraged. I started to take him through the paces, but when I asked him to scan the barcode on his card, he looked at me as though I had just asked him to strangle and eat a kitten. I was informed, again, that it was ridiculous, unacceptable, etc. Then I was informed, in high dudgeon, that he was leaving and never returning.
My poor broken heart. How will it ever recover?