By Jason Arican ‘15
Disclaimer: Stereotypes are insidious and destructive and prevent true understanding and appreciation of each other. That said, they are also really funny and, more often than not, true. So let's have some fun looking at stereotypes I’ve noticed during my time here!
You argue with Fama because three factors couldn't possibly cover all of the risk in the market. You want a finance concentration, but you really want an analytic finance concentration. In an honest moment, you would admit you want the school to come up with a new concentration, name it after you, and never give it to anyone else again. There’s no such thing as a shirt button that you couldn’t justify unbuttoning.
Kovler order: Kovler? You're kidding right?
There are two places in Harper that Facils are seen: in class, or that special room downstairs that only Facils can access in which they eat free food for the world to see. Hey, remember us? We're your non-Facil friends and would like to spend time with you. Once I wanted to go in the special room to hang with friends, but didn't because I figured either:
A) My ID wouldn't open the door (which is probably the case) or
B) It would work, but I’d promptly be asked to leave.
Kovler order: A feedback sandwich.
Lakeshore East Resident:
You are ready to throw out your Canada Goose jacket because Moncler is, like, way more warm. You once saw a classmate at Mariano's wearing a North Face coat, loading up on Lean Cuisines. "He must live at North Harbor Tower," you thought. A look of bewilderment flashed upon your face as he reached for 2% milk.
Kovler order: Two sushi boxes because you didn’t want your friends to see you with a twenty dollar bill anyway.
Friends of TNDC Co-chairs:
You (we) post up at the VIP table in order to get the benefits of being a co-chair without the annoyance of hearing people complain about the venue every week. You (we) offer to buy drinks knowing full well that there are free bottles, in a not-so-subtle attempt to get a co-chair to say “it’s alright, just grab a drink from the bottle.”
Kovler order: The calzone, because do you even care about anything anymore?
The day your article posts online, you think about the best time to link it to Facebook. "9 AM is too early," you think. "People will be in class at 2:30 PM," you reason. During breaks, you casually hang by the mail folders so you can be there when people read your article. You feign humility when complimented. "Oh that was a fun one to write," you say. "It was all my editors.”
Wait, that's just me, huh? You know what? This isn’t fun anymore.
Kovler order: Nothing, because “did you see my article? They said it got a ton of clicks” is not a form of currency.
The author is a second year student who looks forward to showering the incoming editorial team with compliments as well.