My final Finals Week (at least for now)

Students during Finals Week are a classic example of what happens to humans under extreme and stressful situations. Think Lord of the Flies, except replace all the child characters with 18 to 22-year-olds and set the scene in a library instead of a deserted island (side note: I LOATHED that book. Never has anything made me want to punch random small children in the face than that little number). Tribes form, someone starts hallucinating, and an accidental homicide or two occurs (either computer or human). People really do go bananas. B...A-N-A-N-A-S.

Of course, working the graveyard shift at the library ends up becoming the most entertaining job in the world. People slowly pull out their hair as they struggle to read another 7 chapters for their 8am final while shiftily glancing at the clock. Some give up reading and stare blankly at walls. Others make serious attempts at osmosis. Those on computers are typing so furiously they end up typing several paragraphs of gibberish whenever their brain finishes a thought, requiring a good deal of irritable backspacing. Computers in turn become mutinous, and decide that, no, they really didn't feel like saving that document. Was it important? All this and more quickly unravels before my eyes.

Finally, dawn peeks in through the windows, and it's time to print out that 50-something page paper. Ironically, this becomes the hardest part of the entire project. Most of these students have forgone sleep in the past 48 hours, and now they have to deal with a library printer, which involves pushing several buttons (and saying a little prayer, as I've seen in some cases).

During this particular shift, I watched as a guy - let's call him Bob - stood in front of the printer for a little over 20 minutes, obviously waiting for something to happen. The printer wasn't printing, so I began to think that maybe he was expecting it to dance. Unfortunately for Bob (and me, as that would've been rather exciting), the printer staunchly refused to give so much as a wiggle. At this point, I was starting to feel sorry for him, so I walked over and inquired if there was a problem. A few minutes of struggling silence later, Bob groggily turned toward me and mumbled something along the lines of "professor...angels...30 pages...staple". Four years living of in Undergradia had left me remarkably fluent in Sleepdeprivedese, and I was able to translate: "Well, kind sir, I'd really love to print and staple this 30-page paper I've got due to Professor Grueleski on the historical inaccuracies of Angels and Demons." After another 10 minutes of questioning and button-pushing on my part, Bob realized that maybe it would help if he hit print on his computer. I agreed, noting that USC had decidedly nixed the mind-reader Xerox due to budget cuts. Bob trudged back to his computer, stared blankly at it for a few moments before realizing that Microsoft ESP was not installed, and clicked print.

Overall, the panic, exhaustion, and general chaos of Finals Week is like a beautiful orchestra unfolding in the wee hours of the morning. The percussion section becomes the rapid, erratic sound of typing; the violins burst forth from the cries of computer failure. A trumpet sounds as ink cartridge #3 runs out of ink and the printer alert goes off. The twitching and sleepy swaying of students becomes the flurry of bow movements amongst the strings. And then, after 8 hours continuous music, the orchestra goes still as the last student trickles out of the library - her eyes glassy...

Anyway, if anyone is interested in tickets for Monday morning's performance, I'll be selling them for $35 a piece. First come, first serve!