Emily Axford: Fumigating freshmen

Package Services is grossly inefficient.

The line serpentines out of the building and onto the street, and as the line grows, my patience shrinks. But I don’t want to complain. I want to finger the problem, then propose a solution.

The problem is freshmen. They’re everywhere. I’m stepping on them, swatting them, picking them out of my hair, scraping them off the bottom of my shoe – this place needs to be fumigated! Honestly, every time I go to Package Services I feel like I’m baby-sitting. I’m just trying to pick up my impulse-purchase E-Z Bake Oven from eBay, but I might as well be changing diapers full of Pizza Italia and insecurity.

I’m trying to be sensitive to the fact that they need mommy’s breast milk Fed-Exed weekly, but I don’t have time to wait around for Freshman McGee’s balls to drop to get my package. I’ve got important grown-up business to attend to. I don’t have time to waste stepping over some baby throwing a tantrum cause she just found out 4-RIDE, her glorified stroller, doesn’t run until 7 p.m. These freshman babies could get to Tahiti on frequent crier miles alone.

By the time I get home I’m two hours poorer and the limited-edition Thundercats pog slammers I ordered last week are covered in spit-up. Honestly, I can’t even sign for my package without first squeegeeing the counter of baby drool. Any lingering feeling of victory I have from outbidding ebayuser8992 on a rustic balsawood gun rack is crushed by these little babies.

Maybe it’s not their fault. Maybe if the freshman advising workshop would expand their curriculum beyond “Sesame Street” reruns and making nutritious but unsavory vegetables fly into mouths, the freshmen of this school could hope to achieve something other than perpetuating stupid rumors about Fulbright being rated one of the most sexually active dormitories by Playboy, or whatever.

Package Services used to be like Christmas. Now it’s like Christmas if Christmas involved a long line and at the end you found out Santa didn’t come this year. What I’m trying to say is all freshmen should live on Mount Vernon with tracking devices on their wrists so they can be monitored by UPD to make sure they don’t come near me.

-The writer, who herself was once a confused freshman, is a junior majoring in religion.

The Hatchet has disabled comments on our website. Learn more.