"Don't give me that. You're B and G and you're paid to keep my bathroom running."

"No, ma'am, we're the Student Porter Program and we're paid to keep your bathroom clean. Clean and running are two different things. B and G keeps you running, we keep you clean. You're right to complain, though, you'd better call B and G. We can't be expected to keep you clean if you're not running properly."

Victorious, the student porter proceeds along his duly appointed daily path tempted to do a sloppy job on the cranky lady's facility, sabotage her commode or something. He has used intentional by-pass strategies in the past, forgetting or neglecting critical areas. He has cleaned off glass shelves and not put the articles back in place. He has sprinkled water on toilet seats and rolls of tissue. He has even sunk so low as throwing out the Playboys and Penthouses he found strewn at the base of more than one toilet. In short, he has taken revenge on rudeness by using insidious and evil methods.

Today, however, the student porter does a thoroughly admirable job, completes his assignments and heads back to Headquarters. Back in the basement of Thayer, he is greeted by three smiling captains and Tom Curly '78, captain of the captains, who tells him, "We've decided to promote you. You realize our other areas of responsibility include trashing, mailroom and mounting posters. Most of the posters you see in Emerson and Sever were put there by us."

"Yessir." says the student porter in a thrill of anticipation.

"Well, you're going to be trashing tomorrow."

"That's a promotion?" The porter's heart sinks.

Curly stops smiling, as do two of the captains, as does the third, Dennis Rinehart '77, who says straight-faced:

"Because of the psychological hang-ups about cleaning other people's toilets, any getting away from that is a form of promotion."

The student porter is guilty of being ungrateful. He had hoped for the mail truck job, riding the range with Joe Perlatonda, leaping at high speed from a silver chariot with canvas bags slung over his shoulder, delivering mail all over campus. The romance of speed and the far-flung foreign niches of Harvard fades away and all he sees is a Hefty trash bag.

But as the captains congratulate him with hearty handshakes and returning smiles, the student porter is filled with a feeling of good will. He remembers how he arrived weeks ahead of most of his fellow classmates in the fall of freshman year, how he came to know Harvard with other members of the dorm crew in those first uncertain days, how the camaraderie of their labors had made them all fast friends. He is flooded with nostalgia as he hangs up his "Johnny brush" and rinses out his mop.

The student porter ascends the stairs and steps out into the open air, his arms swinging freely at his sides. He knows he has had the rare opportunity of meeting people in the most intimate of all possible settings.