posted on: Thursday February 18, 2010
Jayo Miko Macasaquit ’10 / Commentary Staff
There is a certain reality that programmers at Providence College face when organizing events for the college community. Programmers plan weeks in advance, gather manpower, gather resources, make purchases using student activity fees, climb through piles of paperwork and bureaucracy and, come event time hope for the best. The programmer is on a first-name basis with all the SAIL staff, and the SAIL staff know exactly what he wants when he walks into the office, simply by his facial expression and rate of breathing.
For his first few events, the programmer ignores the unwritten rule of halving the “attending” list on the Facebook event page, and this hoping for the best becomes naive maneuvering past excuses his friends will prematurely give. The naivety stretches, as the programmer is oblivious to the fact that “Maybe Attending” actually means “I’m not going, but I don’t want to offend you.” The programmer is so excited, he will return to the Facebook group a dozen times a day to check the attending list. “Make sure you come to Mexican Hat Fest!” the programmer writes on each of his friends’ walls. “Come to Lay your own Brick Wall this Thursday!” the programmer writes as his Facebook status, five days before the event. The programmer, perchance, thinks with an illogical optimism.
The programmer, perchance, thinks too much. His posters actually look good because the programmer spends a great deal of time designing them. He actually believes that these posters will be seen. He will walk to each of the kiosks and will give thought to where he is putting each poster. He thinks that putting the word “FOOD!” on the poster actually makes a difference. They’re actually quite informative, these posters, and will contain the perfect balance of detail: not too word-heavy, but not too word-light. Straight-to-the-point and eye-catching they may be, but unbeknownst to the programmer, be seen they will not.
Subsequent poorly attended events do not faze the programmer. He is “learning” from his “mistakes.” Subsequent events will be “better.” He will henceforth try something “new” and “exciting” and, for sure, will make people jump out of their Jersey Shore and Teen Mom evening-bubbles and make the trek to ’64 Hall for an amazing, well-planned evening. Jersey Shore or Teen Mom cannot possibly be more interesting than learning about Tinfoil snow boots and the Underground Spaghetti Movement can it? “Impossible!” the programmer assures himself, as he spends another hour building a handmade poster from five office items or less, using his newfound cross-stitching skills. The programmer’s efforts, perchance, will increase attendance this time around.
Event time is game time for the na