I like making people’s days. If I can make someone happier, it makes me happier.
When I went to get breakfast at the cafeteria today, I started thinking. I guess that’s my problem. I honestly am so lazy when it comes to food here at college. You go to a cafeteria, you wait in line for food (that’s already made for you!), and then you put your tray and everything on your tray on a conveyor belt that whisks your tray away. And then it’s gone, and you don’t have to ever see it again. It’s like magic. What am I going to do when I have to deal with the real world, I thought to myself. I’ll have to cook my own food, and clean up after myself all the time. I mean, not to say I don’t clean up after myself now. I do. Speaking of, I’m probably on the verge of OCD when it comes to cleaning, but let’s save that for a whole other blog.
Anywho. I DO clean up after myself, but as of right now, the occasional cup I have to clean from drinking some hot cocoa barely counts. After I had a mini panic attack about my future, I realized it was probably time for me to head to class. My mind wandered again. I have the luxury of putting my gross, disgusting tray on a mechanism that takes it away, but what about the people who have to deal with it? Gross. Gross. Gross. What a horribly un-enjoyable job. I mean, unless there are people out there who are like, “AW YEA! CLEANING DISHES! YEA!” If there are people like that, kudos to them. I, however, am thinking that the majority of people with that job are thinking what I’m thinking —gross. I then think, Person that has to clean my filthy tray today, I want to make your day.
So, that’s when I get kind of creepy. I grab a napkin, take out a pen from my backpack, and I simply write the words Have a great day on the back of it. I then become aware that if someone walked past by me as I am writing these words, they might, just might, give me a weird look. You know, a look that screams, “Why is that girl writing ‘Have a great day’ on that napkin? What a stalker and creep!” Realizing this, I finish writing quickly before anybody has the chance to walk by, and then proceed to turn the napkin over and act like nothing happened. Now I just have to put my tray on the conveyor belt and flip over the napkin leaving my nice, little note for a complete stranger. Makes sense.
I grab my half-ton backpack, put on my coat, and head to the tray return.
I start thinking — again. Oh my gosh, what if the person sees the note, ducks down where the opening is to see who wrote it. I focus. Emily, that won’t happen. Just put the tray down, push it, and get the heck out of there. And as I’m thinking this, I’m also realizing that this WHOLE situation is just a little bit too stressful to be over a dang napkin.
I do it. I put the tray down, give it a little push, and it rolls away. I hurry and exit the tray return, smiling. Possible reactions of the dishwasher run through my head. I hope they smile and think I’m a cool person for doing that. Or, I mean, they could just think it’s really, really, really creepy. Oh. God. I’M ON THE VERGE OF CREEPY.
I’m still not sure what this all means. Does it make me a nice person, or does it make me on the verge of creepy? Either way, I can’t help but playing “The Edge of Glory” in my head, but inserting the lyrics, “I’M ON THE EDGE…OF CREEPY.”
So there you go. I’m Emily, and I’m a creepy person. A creepy person who loves blogging enough so she can tell everybody else just how creepy she really is.
