By Patty Kreiser
I have a love/hate relationship with commuting. I love driving my little ’98 Ford, “Bam Bam.” I love the freedom of coming and going as I please. I love that I don’t have to put up with an overly sexually active roommate. I love that I don’t have to pay oodles of money to enjoy the University’s fine cuisine. I love sleeping in my own bed. But I hate having to go home.
Unlike residents, I am almost always home on weekends. Due to my unlimited availability and lack of a trust fund, I get to work at the grocery store in my town. I have the glamorous job of ringing up groceries, dealing with rude customers, arguing over coupons, listening to old people complain about their aches and pains and hearing little kids screaming when they don’t get a piece of candy from the candy aisle.
I’ve been at the grocery store for a year and a half, giving me seniority over almost all of the other girls who work there (what an accomplishment, I know.). These girls are in high school, fretting about their Advanced Placement (AP) exams, what their three-page research paper should be about, whose brother will buy them a six-pack of beer so they can get “wasted,” who so-and-so is “dating,” or discussing cheerleading and kick-line politics. I, on the other hand, worry about paying my credit card bill and car insurance, maintaining a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, procrastinating on long papers and projects that were due last week, fitting enough work-study hours in between classes and wondering where I should party this weekend. I feel so out of place. Now don’t get me wrong, I love these girls; they’re like my little sisters. It’s just we’re at different stages in our lives.
My problem with having a job at home is when my former high school classmates come home for breaks. They’ll come in to the grocery store to pick up odds and ends, and then guess who rings up their purchases? Me. The former Color Guard captain/orchestra and chorus dork/Student Council secretary/awkward weird girl with bad hair and glasses is scanning and bagging their purchases. For the record, I have changed a lot since high school: I got contacts, got my hair cut stylishly, learned that orange and purple don’t match that well, and gained just enough weight so that people don’t think I have an eating disorder (I’m just naturally very skinny!).
And so my former classmates see me and say, “Wow! You look great! You work here?” No, I just stand at the register for the fun of it. Of course I work here, stupid. Why else would I be here ringing up your box of Twinkies? I’ve always wanted to reply, “Wow! You look awful! Your acne is repulsive and your beer belly is worse than I thought!” Instead, I simply smile and say, “Yep, I work here at a whopping 8 bucks an hour!” But then I get the question that bugs me the most: “So, how’s commuting?” This seems like a simple question, but the way it comes out makes it seem as though they’re saying, “So, you couldn’t leave home, could you?”
Sometimes I want to reach across the conveyer belt and rip their head off. Alright, I guess I don’t want to do something that drastic, but I still get ticked off when my former high school classmates speak so condescendingly toward me. Yes, I chose to commute. It was a better financial decision and the University has a great journalism program. I came in with 21 AP credits so I’ll finish college a semester early and with less debt because I won’t be paying room and board loans. I also won’t have to pay for liposuction to have that huge beer gut removed after graduation.
So, my former classmates-get off your high horse and quit bragging about going to school out-of-state. I couldn’t care less that you go to BU or Yale or whatever; we didn’t like each other in high school and your tone won’t make me like you now.
This is why I hate commuting. I feel like a townie when my former classmates come home. I’m the girl who commutes to school and works at the town grocery store. Well, I guess I have one thing to be thankful for: At least I don’t have a beer belly.
Patty Kreiser is a sophomore broadcast journalism student. You may e-mail her at [email protected].