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Here’s your problem, right here
The background to today’s adventure is that I have a day-job as a secretary in a private college. Dorm damage is something of a hot topic among the students of said college, since the cost of repairing any damage done to a dorm is shared equally among the residents of that dorm, whether or not they had anything to do with the breakage. This is, I gather, supposed to teach people to “police themselves.”
For the last couple weeks, as graduation — and the semester damage invoices loom — there has been an increasingly frantic discussion on the student list about damage, the people who do it, why people do it, and how people go about “policing themselves.” These are useful questions, and following this afternoon, I am in the position to provide some insights.
I work inside a library building. Normally, it’s a quiet place. There are occasional loud noises and the acoustics of the stairwell are really interesting, so that some conversations kind of waft up three flights and directly into my office, but, hey, it’s an old building and I like the stairwell, which is kind of Escher-esque. You can stand on the landing of the third floor and have a (loud) discussion with someone standing on the ground floor, aka The Street.
So, my office, around about 2:30. It’s quiet on my hall, with a slight buzz of voices rising from The Street, where many students are studying for exams.
Suddenly! A metallic bang rang out!
Followed by more bangs, and laughter, and even more bangs. This goes on for a couple minutes before I decide to see what the devil’s going on and walk down two flights of stairs to the point where I can overlook the vending machines.
As I’m walking down the stairs — two flights, now, and I’m walking briskly, but not running — I see students coming out of the library, looking over the rail to the vending area, obviously curious about the noise, and move on. There is from time to time still some laughter at the banging, which is continuing at a goodly pace.
I arrive at last at the proper landing, and look down into the vending area, where one young man is whaling the hell out of vending machine, while another young man is calmly purchasing a drink from the machine beside it.
Since I’m obviously the only adult in range, I lean over the rail and ask a leading question: “What the hotel are you doin’?”
The boy — I’m supposed to refer to students as “students” “men” “women,” but in this case I’m making an exception for truth in reporting — the boy who’s whaling on the machine looks up at me.
“What?”
Since I now have his attention, I decide to cut to the chase.
“Leave,” I tell him.
He blinks and pulls the sound plugs out of his ears.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. Leave.”
“No — wait, just listen. I swiped my card twice and the machine deducted the money and my Doritos are still stuck in there!”
“Leave,” I said.
“You’re really serious.” Said with a look of utter disbelief that I could find his explanation anything but reasonable and his actions objectionable in any way.
“Yes, I am really serious. Leave.”
At which point the guy who had been buying the drink, and who had remained by that machine, muttered, “She said leave, man,” and so the boy did that.
I went back up to my office and fumed.
But I promised an insight, and here it is: The way to police yourselves is not to laugh when some fool is breaking something. The way to police yourselves is not to walk away, because it’s somebody else’s problem. The way to police yourselves is to do something, to speak up. If you’re little and they’re big, or you’re sober and they’re drunk, take a friend or three to help your present your case. Call Security for ghod’s sake! But don’t do nothing.
That’s it. No, that’s not it. One more thing — If that vending machine is broken, every person sitting in The Street, laughing, or pretending not to notice, has earned a piece of the repair bill.
Originally published at Sharon Lee, Writer. You can comment here or there.
no subject
On the other hand, on each machine there is a paper sign with a phone number to call if there is a problem with the machine. So when there is a problem, people are empowered to take constructive action. There is a process for getting a refund or getting a product that is stuck inside that doesn't involve kicking the machine and hoping that it will work.
Obviously, the boy mentioned above should not take out his frustration by damaging the machine and making noise that disturbs the library patrons. He is responsible for his own behaviour, and wasn't doing the right thing.
However, sometimes you can design a system so that people are less frustrated in the first place, and have what they need to resolve problems when they come up. This would lead to a better experience for everyone. I think that this sort of design or re-design to make it work better should be a goal for how to deal with recurring problems in systems where people interact with each other or with technology. Sometimes changing something simple can have big effects.
no subject
The trouble with a linear storyline is that one must of necessity leave things that do not impinge on the progression of the story out.
Of course there's a sign with a phone number to call in case there's a malfunction, right there on the face of the machine.
However, I had no interest in educating the boy, who was clearly already angry or having 'way too much fun; my goal was to get him away from the machine and out into the day where he could cool off and perhaps find a friend who would have pity on him and buy him a bag of corn chips.
no subject
I'm glad the sign exists. Vending machines are faceless unaccountable things that are designed not to be fixable by the people using them. Having the information available right where people are using the machine on how to call in a specialist to fix it is a good thing. It is good for self-policing in addition to being helpful for resolving problems with the machine.
Some people might feel more comfortable taking an educational approach to self-policing. They can say "Stop doing that! If you have a problem with the machine, call the phone number," and point to the sign. The existence of the sign can provide a sort of back up, bolster what they are saying, even if there's no other person there to back them up. It is also slightly less confrontational than insisting that the other person leave, so for some people it might be easier to work up the chutzpah to say it. (Obviously not a problem for you. :-) )
Still, it's sad that with an alternate, more effective, less disruptive way of resolving the problem right there in front of his face, the boy elected to throw a physical tantrum.
I haven't seen that sort of thing happen at the nearby university. I wonder why. A different culture? A different demographic of students? Just lucky?
Things that tend to get damaged around here are ones that students might see while walking home drunk late at night, things that they think are funny to do things to when they are drunk and no one is watching. Making a scene in public, in a library no less, is just Not Done. And I am very grateful for that. How irksome that the situation that prompted you to intervene existed at all.