To the People of the Coop Store

Although it may come as a surprise to those of you who
seem to think I have no life outside of my TSL
involvement (seriously, for the last time: Sizzlin’ Sensations? Not me), I actually do things in the
world, and one of those things is working at the ASPC Coop Store here at
Pomona. Now, I know that many of my faithful readers attend other colleges
(actually, now that I think of it, I have never actually seen any evidence to
this end, but it’s what they tell me) and that you have your own fine on-campus establishments to
patronize (again, never seen any of
them [not trying to make some kind of political statement, just a homebody],
but I’ve never seen the Taj Mahal, either), but I, for one, am of the belief
that a trip to the Coop Store holds valuable experiences for all, if only
because we are the only purveyors of Diva Cups in the entire Inland Empire (as far as we know). At
any rate, if you’ve come by this semester, chances are I’ve serviced you,
meaning that I know your tastes, weaknesses and Flex balance. That said, there
are a few things I’d like to say to you,
people of the Coop Store.

To those out of
Ye of Little Flex, I stand with you. I am you. Ask me how I got down to fifty bucks in two months and I
will be real with you: I haven’t a clue. But zero? Zero? I mean, really, I’m supposed to smile and take your cash and
be grateful that burning through your Flex doesn’t seem to stop you from
spending your money here, but part of me just wants to step out from behind the
cash register and take you aside for a conversation about fiscal responsibility,
life values, etc. But, hey, it’s a free country. If you want to blow all your
fake money on one Gushers-and-Honest-Tea-fueled weekend of debauchery, that’s
fine with me. Just don’t expect not to show up in TSL.

To those who have
upwards of one hundred dollars of Claremont Cash:
What are you, preparing
for the Zombie Laundry Apocalypse? Oh, sure, your parents gave it to you for
textbooks. More like you have a copy of your mom’s credit card and your
homepage set to the CUC site. I’m calling your house this instant.

To those who
complain about our prices:
Hey, buddy, do you like subsidized 47 Things
trips? How about free beer at PUB? Our profits go directly into ASPC funds,
making life better for you as a
Pomona Student. Oh, you go to Scripps? Well, that’s awkward.

the administration of Harvey Mudd College:

Thank you, good administrators of Harvey Mudd College, for deciding to put your
students on some kind of bizarre voodoo weekly Flex plan. The Thursday night
Mudder rush is definitely a highlight of the week for any bored Coopster,
especially when they come careening in on their unicycles—they keep the
ASPC’s pockets well lined, and they
give us a show!

To those who come
in and ask simply for “cigarettes:
Alright, now I know you’re underage. Forget about “cool”—if you want to look
normal, pick a brand. Otherwise, next time you pull this “cigarettes” business,
I’m giving you Parliaments.

To the well-meaning parents who want to buy stuffed CMS mascots: Get this now: we
have never sold, and never will sell, merchandise pertaining to the other
colleges. You want Huntley. It is down the road. Go there now.

To the couple that
came in three times in one hour and bought about six gallons of water while
stroking their faces and mumbling about how delicious water is and how nice
faces feel:
Hey, to each his own Sunday night. Also, to the dude: I hope
you know you signed my name to your credit card receipt.

To those living
saints who realize that they have 37 cents to offer me after giving me a twenty
to pay for something that costs $5.37, so that I can just give them fifteen
dollars instead of having to mess with all that pesky change… AFTER I’ve
already told the cash register that you’ve given me twenty dollars, calculated
how much change I really owe you, etc.:
You are the bane of the retail

To Pedro Salinas:
I’m saying it now: there has never been a lad this side of the Mississippi who
played more pool than Pedro Salinas. The man sweats dedication. Five minutes
until closing time? Just enough time to practice his shot. We salute you, Pedro
Salinas, not because you are in anyway a financial boon to us—it’s free for
Pomona students to check out pool equipment—but because we know that, when
you make it into the Pool Hall of Fame (sounds kind of shady, but whatever),
we’ll be able to say that we knew you.  

Facebook Comments

Leave a Reply