All,
Friday was my birthday. There were balloons and party hats and three separate a capella groups to entertain the guests. We had two chocolate strawberry layer cakes and one vanilla caramel sheet cake. There were buckets of chilled old-fashioned coca-cola and sprite bottles and novelty bottle openers to enhance the aesthetic. I even offered Goodbelly Probiotic smoothies as a more health-conscious option.
On top of the specially procured black-and-white checkered table cloth, alongside the eight-foot-tall strawberry milkshake cut-out that complimented the ’50s-retro visual, were dozens of gourmet finger sandwiches complete with toothpicks in the middle and large glass punch bowls filled with freshly tossed salad.
In the middle of the venue stood a photo booth, my own personal 12-dot logo printed proudly across the backdrop. Complete with hundreds of costumes and props, the set-up included an extensive selection of tinted lenses, polka-dot party hats, fake mustaches, and Happy Birthday sunglasses.
I even offered punny party favors, including knee-high athletic socks with my name emblazoned on the ankle.
But no one came.
A few well-intentioned freshmen made appearances, citing the fact that their proctor had hinted there would be free food available in the Quad. Two photographers, one for The Crimson and one paid by an a capella group to capture some candids, wandered around for a while, apathetically snacking on my birthday goodies. My manager, nervously hovering around announcing performances to the empty chairs and couches, also showed up.
Aside from the aforementioned revelers, the celebration was empty. What did I do to deserve so much disdain? Is it too much to ask for the students, who walk by my doors every day, to give one ounce of recognition to the ten years I have spent relegated to the Quad, watching them silently pity my apparent lack of purpose? For once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, these pretentious little busy bodies could take a moment of their precious time to remember that one time they visited me freshman year during orientation week, or the career fair they attended here that rainy Wednesday afternoon.
But no.
You unappreciative twerps can move your meetings and rehearsals to the Science Center for all I care. I quit.
