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Last week was flu shot week at Harvard. Thousands of students streamed to Smith Campus Center to receive their annual vaccine. It was, without question, the single most efficient experience I’ve had in college.

Held in a central, accessible location, the process was clear, flexible, and seamless: no chaos, no unexpected delays, no last-minute email scramble. Just a well-organized, fast-moving line. Appointment slots were available throughout the week, and the entire experience took only minutes. A nurse scanned my barcode, gave me the shot, and I left. No paperwork. No follow-up. No emails linking to web pages to find instructions for how to find another web page from 2013. My immunization hold was automatically lifted within hours.

The only way it could have been more efficient is if there were a literal conveyor belt of flu shots.

This operation is no small achievement. It was a massive, campus-wide operation to vaccinate essentially the entire student body — and it worked out flawlessly.

But what made this experience so striking wasn’t just the ease of the flu shot itself — it was the realization that so few other things at Harvard appear to work so seamlessly.

There’s a general consensus among students that Harvard’s systems aren’t run as well as they could — or should — be. The inefficiencies are small, but they slowly use up time, energy, and patience.

Take the shuttle system. The Passio GO! app is barely usable — glitchy and constantly malfunctioning. Shuttles often don’t arrive when scheduled. The route design could also be more intuitive; for example, why doesn’t the Quad Express stop at Widener Library even though the Quad Yard Express does?

Mail and package delivery is another issue. My deliveries frequently go missing or show up weeks (or even months) late. One of my friends in Cabot House even chooses to ship her packages to a friend in Mather House — an almost 30 min walk away — because she believes it has a more reliable mail system. I don’t blame her: House email lists are replete with emails about missing packages.

Then there’s course registration. Course times on my.harvard are sometimes updated late, so this past semester, I built a schedule around incorrect information. And the process of choosing courses happens right at the time of the semester when students are flooded with midterms.

Services designed for efficiency fall victim to their own inefficiencies. FlyBy, the grab-and-go lunch option meant to serve students between classes, regularly suffers from long lines that stretch across Memorial Hall’s basement. The room’s cramped layout only makes things worse.

Even Harvard University Health Services — the same institution responsible for the flu shot process — often falters elsewhere. My one attempt at a walk-in visit was marked by long wait times and confusing instructions. I know several others who have faced similar inconveniences.

And then there are policy coordination issues that feel arbitrary or unfair. For instance, the surprise suspension of the Harvard-Radcliffe Orchestra for alleged hazing showcases the strangeness of where administrators seem to dedicate their efforts.

These examples point to a deeper pattern: a culture that tends to overengineer, overbureaucratize, and overcomplicate. From dining to travel logistics, Harvard too often turns simple exercises into logistical puzzles.

That’s why the flu shot stood out to me. It was simple and effective. And it offers a blueprint for how things should be. The process wasn’t just good logistics — it was designed around the student experience. It prioritized ease and access: minimal paperwork, a centralized location, short wait times, and flexibility built around the availability of students, not obscure administrative considerations.

Systems and administrators worked together — scan a barcode, get a shot, hold lifted — with no additional burden. It was built on clarity, flexibility, and user-centered design. Those same principles could be applied to countless parts of student life.

The flu shot didn’t just help protect us from illness, it reminded us what this institution is capable of when it wants to be effective. I hope Harvard can learn to make simplicity the rule, not the exception.

Catherine E.F. Previn ’27, an Associate Editorial editor, is a Government concentrator in Cabot House.