Being a student guard isn’t all about fast women and loose cars like so many people think it is. It takes a lot more to be one of Georgetown’s elite, as the following excerpts from the diary of a retired guard proves:
8:15 p.m.-Arrive for my 8 p.m. shift right on time, try not to acknowledge the angry glares from the previous guard as he packs up his science fiction novels and coloring books. Trying to play it straight for a while, since my shift supervisor is still pissed off about me taking the initiative of setting up a tip jar by my desk. Anyone associated with law enforcement, from full-blown pigs down to DPS officers, lacks a sense of humor. Except Bill Tucker, that man was hilarious.
8:58 p.m.-A girl arrives with her parents and asks me if she has to sign for them or anything. I hand her a sheet of paper labeled “People Who Are Annoying Me Right Now.” She didn’t find it as funny as I did, but then again she’s not a student guard.
9:27 p.m.-My wish to have one shift where I don’t see that snide Domino’s guy ends early when the jackass rolls up with an order of their trademark intestine-cramping pizza. “So, you again,” he says, like he does every week. I nod, take out my crossbow and start cleaning it without saying a word. He got the message.
10:29 p.m.-Noticing a suspicious looking package on the ground, I instantly spring into action, recalling months of training in crisis management, hand-to-hand combat, explosives disarmament and assorted other disciplines crucial to the survival of a student guard. Then I remember that I just made all of that up, and that my training consisted of basically being told to stay awake and not masturbate at the guard desk (sorry DPS, but you’re not paying me that much). I decide to take the package outside and sell it to the first person to believe me when I tell them it’s a TV. Problem solved.
11:54 p.m.-Jack DeGioia stumbles in drunk, again, with several women (and one man) who are certainly not his wife. This has to be the third or fourth time this month I think as I hand him the key to the presidential suite on the tenth floor. At least he didn’t bring the goat this time, I hate cleaning up after that thing.
1:55 a.m.-Domino’s guy again. My first two shots went wide, but I think I winged him with the last one. I might just order up some breadsticks for a chance to finish him off.
2:00 a.m.-More abuse from drunken students returning from a night of partying while I sit here slaving over a hot desk. When they leave I take out my frustration by breaking all the lights in the elevator before returning to my desk knowing that I am, indeed, a big man.
2:81 a.m.-Think about the mind-numbing effects of this job on the psyche, and how time seems to have no meaning over an eight-hour shift. I mean, 2:81 isn’t even a real time for godsakes. Regardless, I press on.
2:22 a.m.-See two residents taking a couch from the building. I start to protest, then stop when I remember they both had IDs. This is clearly outside my jurisdiction, so I go back to reading my copy of the Hustler Literary Review.
2:08 a.m.-So tired of this stupid job. I consider leaving, but then remember that if I quit grandma won’t be able to afford her heart medication. Hmm, I never really liked grandma all that much anyway.
2:14 a.m.-Decide to stay for non-grandma related reasons. Such as a desire to not violate my parole.
December-Getting odd looks from the students entering the building at this time. Come on, its not like you’ve never seen someone shaving their legs at the front desk before. Grow up.
2:36 a.m.-Some ruckus as a rowdy group of College Republicans return after a night of midnight marauding and rubbing up against little boys on the bus. They’re too tired to kick the janitor more than once before going to bed.
2:55 a.m.-Quitting time. I pack my phone and books and start to head back to the DPS office. The deafening roar of half a dozen scooters assault my senses as snide Domino’s guy and his friends crest the hill and begin descending towards me. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and I’m about to find out that it also comes with Cheezy Bread and a two-liter Coke.
Scott Matthews is a junior in the College and associate editor of The Georgetown Voice. He clearly isn’t even trying anymore.
