2008 Woodie Awards
Making the world safe for robins
Jennifer McCafferty '07
Issue date: 9/15/06 Section: Portfolio
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With a slam of the freezer door, Ellen reached her conclusion: this had not been the best of days. Nothing overtly catastrophic had occurred-no breakups, no pink slips, no nuclear fallout-but, as she unceremoniously flopped down onto the dingy couch to inhale a quart of Ben and Jerry's, the tiny things that had gone wrong crept back into her consciousness and drove her deeper into the carton.
The burnt breakfast, the gossipy classmate, and the needlessly paranoid career advisor had been bad enough, but the last straw had come when she had been walking back to her apartment after class. A smiling woman sporting obnoxiously pink lipstick and white-blond hair that appeared to be cemented into place had approached her.
"Excuse me, miss," the woman cooed, her jewelry clinking loudly as she had blocked Ellen's path. "If you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you about whales."
And for the next 45 minutes, that's exactly what the woman did, no matter how many excuses Ellen formulated to escape. Apparently, the whales of the world were disappearing at an alarming rate, and from what Ellen had been able to gather from the meandering monologue, this woman was representing a group dedicated to helping ostentatiously wealthy people feel as though they were contributing to a worthy cause-letting people know that they wanted to save the whales. All Ellen would have to do to join such a stellar operation was make a minimum donation of $50 and sign a petition declaring that she and a baker's dozen of bored rich people were "outraged by the disappearance of one of the earth's most magnificent creatures." While there had been no mention of the recipient of the money and petition, Ellen had been assured that she would be "making a difference." When Ellen had questioned the woman why she had approached an obvious college student with the means of donating $5 at most, the woman had responded with a loud gale of laughter, followed by a suddenly somber, "Thank you for your time."
The burnt breakfast, the gossipy classmate, and the needlessly paranoid career advisor had been bad enough, but the last straw had come when she had been walking back to her apartment after class. A smiling woman sporting obnoxiously pink lipstick and white-blond hair that appeared to be cemented into place had approached her.
"Excuse me, miss," the woman cooed, her jewelry clinking loudly as she had blocked Ellen's path. "If you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you about whales."
And for the next 45 minutes, that's exactly what the woman did, no matter how many excuses Ellen formulated to escape. Apparently, the whales of the world were disappearing at an alarming rate, and from what Ellen had been able to gather from the meandering monologue, this woman was representing a group dedicated to helping ostentatiously wealthy people feel as though they were contributing to a worthy cause-letting people know that they wanted to save the whales. All Ellen would have to do to join such a stellar operation was make a minimum donation of $50 and sign a petition declaring that she and a baker's dozen of bored rich people were "outraged by the disappearance of one of the earth's most magnificent creatures." While there had been no mention of the recipient of the money and petition, Ellen had been assured that she would be "making a difference." When Ellen had questioned the woman why she had approached an obvious college student with the means of donating $5 at most, the woman had responded with a loud gale of laughter, followed by a suddenly somber, "Thank you for your time."