Truth from the Dining Hall

After slipping down the icy steps of Widener and almost breaking her coxis, FM's Harvard Under Glass team got a bit cranky about New England weather, that off-again, on-again tease. HUG was tempted to transfer somewhere permanently warm and sunny and Spanish-speaking but was convinced not to do so by the dining hall checker. Sensing in this woman profound wisdom and deep understanding, HUG passed on the Thai dinner, pulled a chair up to the checker's desk and listened intently as this venerable oracle spilled truth after truth.

Quite simply, HUG discovered in the checking-lady a reason not to transfer.

HUG: I hate this weather. I can't stand it any longer. I want to transfer somewhere warm and sunny and Spanish-speaking.

Checker-woman: It won't do any good, dear. You can run away from the snow but you can't run away from yourself.

HUG: You mean my discontent is provoked by self-doubt and internal crisis, and not by the snow? CW: Yup, hon. Only you can heal yourself. Try some sticky rice, and don't even think about the eggplant.

HUG: I think I will skip dinner and chat with you, if that's alright.

CW: Sure, darling. You know, the weather might be bad, but there are plenty of reasons to stay at Harvard.

HUG: Like what?

CW: Well, one reason is that Harvard's the only place in the world where you can comp.

HUG: You mean there is no such thing as comping in the outside world? People don't comp careers and then get randomized into marriages? They don't comp medical insurance or middle age?

CW: No, honey. Harvard holds the world monopoly in comping. People elsewhere haven't come up with this wonderful concept yet. And if they had, they would never have given it so mystical a name as "comping."

HUG: What is the root of this word, pray tell?

CW: Comping is an affectionate way of describing the sound a comper's ear makes when it is being brutally slapped by a Crimson editor.

HUG: Ah, that brings warm memories.

CW: Don't get all misty-eyed on me, darling. Another great thing that Harvard has to offer is the E. You see, this maligned letter is excluded from the grading system at most schools. But Harvard, in her infinite sensitivity, has brought back the E. She's also exiled F, E's evil sister, from the report card. So when people say that you can't flunk at Harvard, that's what they mean. If you're a conscientious comper, not only will you get comped by your editor, but your report card will also be sprinkled with magnanimous E's.

HUG: I sense my inner turmoil dissipating as we speak. But should I stay at Harvard?

CW: Stay and you will be rewarded. Besides Belgian waffles on Sundays, Harvard has plenty to offer. You know, people say that they stay here to get a degree that reads "Harvard" in big letters. What students don't realize is that employers couldn't care less about the word Harvard. All they really want to see are the letters A.B.

HUG: A.B.? What does that mean, o'wise one?

CW: A.B. means "Arts Bachelor." Had you gone anywhere else, including somewhere warm and sunny and Spanish-speaking, you would have graduated with a B.A. It's only Harvard that can give you an A.B. That's what people mean when they say that Harvard is special.

HUG: I get an A.B.? How could I have even thought about transferring? I can't wait to graduate and have A.B. written in large Crimson letters on my degree! I will hang it from the walls of my first office, if I ever finish comping a job.

CW: I already told you, blockhead, people outside of Harvard don't comp. But I'm glad you're staying and graduating. And not only will you get a crimson A.B., but you'll pick it up dressed in a regal crimson robe. Others wear boring black robes, but Harvard is not only wise but also fashion savvy. Crimson your robe shall be.

HUG: Wow! I feel so close to you now. Will you adopt me?

CW: No, dearie. I have plenty to do just with getting you properly nourished. Now go get some food, and don't forget to read the Nutrition Bites. You know, I came up with that clever name myself.

HUG: I should have guessed.