I am not proud to say this, but I was recently used to make an example. That’s right – for the first time since my mother washed my mouth out with soap for using “the S word,” I was taught my lesson. Sadly though, I think this lesson is actually going to stick, whereas anyone who knows me now will testify that I use “the S word” on an average of about 78 times per day. For example: “Damn, this DC food tastes like sh*t,” “This class is hard as sh*t,” and “My God, our room stinks like sh*t, dude!” I think you get the idea.
Okay, let me start this little story from the beginning. On the night of October 7th at 11:45 p.m., I walked out of an alarmed door in my building. Now, anyone who has ever done this realizes that this particular action will then proceed to release the loudest, most annoying sound on God’s green earth for the next five minutes. I knew it was wrong then, as I do now, but I’ll tend to disregard that squealing noise in exchange for not freezing my balls off by walking all the way around the building. Besides, and I mean no disrespect to my boy Mike, the RA who lives about 15 feet away from the door, but his little “Stop! You will get written up!” sign didn’t exactly paralyze me with fear.
No more than twenty seconds after walking through that door, I see this dark figure hauling ass through the fog and straight at me. I think to myself, “damn, that chick is really moving.” Turns out this “chick” is the ARD of my building, and I swear she was pullin’ some “Platoon” sh*t with the leaves and the branches on a camouflaged suit, because she literally popped out of nowhere. Plus, I’m wondering why she’s running like she’s headed for the Ladies Room after a hearty DC brunch. Gotta love those Worcester Breakfast Sandwiches.
Well, she finally catches up to me and the first thing she does is inform me that I’ve just exited an alarmed door. No kidding, and here I thought that god-awful noise and the sudden deafness in my ears was biological. She writes me up, and I go about my business. Whatever. I’ve been written up before, and odds are that I’ll be written up again. I’ve been written up for much worse – hell, I’ve even been in the girl’s bathroom across the hall. Yeah I know, I’m a modern day Jimmy Dean, baby. Rebel without a cause. That’s me, right?
Anyway, a couple of weeks go by before I get that little white letter, suspiciously missing its postmark. I read through it, and I decide to schedule a judicial conference with the new RD, figuring I’ll make a good impression. As always, I completely lose the nerve to walk in there, tip over a chair and yell, “I dare you to write me up, bitch!” So instead I just kind of do what I always do when I have to pretend I’m listening: wrinkle my eyebrows a little, nod my head every so often, and insert phrases like “uh-huh,” “oh absolutely,” and “I totally agree” at random points throughout (don’t worry Jenn, I never do this with you). Then Matt hits me with something I really cannot ignore.
It turns out that due to the constant problems with people exiting alarmed doors, the building has adopted a revolutionary new policy regarding its punishment, kind of an “eye for an eye” type program. He uses the following example: suppose I was reprimanded for tearing down a bulletin board, my punishment would then be to help the RA design and put up a new one. I immediately see where he’s going with this.
“So Dana,” he says. “You’ll have to sit in front of the very door you exited for two hours on a weeknight before the end of the semester.” I gotta ask myself, is this piece of work serious? What possible good is that gonna do? I know if I really wanted to exit an alarmed door, a little geek like me sure as hell wouldn’t stop it. Besides, what the hell am I supposed to do in front of a door for two hours anyway?
“You could write one of your articles for the paper while you’re down there,” he suggests. I give him the same reaction I give everyone who is actually aware that I have this little biweekly forum here: 1) shock that he actually reads my garbage, and 2) disbelief that he can actually recognize and decipher the difference between the “Real Me” and the “Headshot Me” which appears next to my columns. In the latter, I look like a drunken troll.
Anyway, a couple of weeks go by, and here I am, sitting alone with my ass cheeks numb from the uncomfortable chair/desk thing they were so nice to offer me. Boy, how right that RD was. Here I am, writing this puppy with about one hour left before I get parole. I don’t even know if this friggin’ alarm is on. Shouldn’t it be beeping or something? Regardless, I sit, like a drunk-on-power rent-a-cop outside a Taco Bell.
To this point, I have been asked to fill out a survey regarding what should be done about these pesky alarm doors. In one section, I was asked to rate from best to worst a list of six suggestions. FYI – my pick for worst idea was installing a security camera to make sure no one went out this way. Yeah, that would be about as effective as the mystery video camera at the pyramids in Southwest. Jesus, that thing has really helped us cut back on that damn riot epidemic, hasn’t it?
By the way, at this point, I have only had to tell one person to turn around. Some tall, scrawny kid who said “no problem” and turned right back the way he came. What’s up with that? I thought this job was going to be tough. Hopefully I’ll get in a brawl later with some hardass punks, and I can drag their sorry, bloody asses down to the cluster office and say, “You tell everyone that this is what happens if you try to walk out Dana’s door! You tell ’em, tell ’em all!!!”
Oh well, you want to know something? I thought this was the dumbest thing I had ever heard of when I found out about it. Oh, don’t get me wrong – I still think its downright moronic, but I will tell you right now – I will never, ever, walk out that alarmed door again. Just like Mom and that bar of Irish Spring so many years ago, I think this really did teach me a lesson. Although, like I said earlier, if this lesson turns out the same way the swearing one did…I may very well come back to my old building next year just to set off that damn alarm.
