A missive from the Faction

Every year, there are many who learn what it truly means to be a PUDSter - and who realize that it is not for them. These unworthy are weeded out early in the year, thrown aside by a system that brutalizes them as mere cogs in a machine. Assigned to specific weekly shifts, even though their preferences and schedules are taken into consideration; forced to work for three consecutive hours; prevented from doing homework on the job; these are sure signs of a vicious, authoritative regime. And that's why we in the Butler/Wilson Dining Hall, home of the budding Glorious Revolution, take enormous pride in enforcing these strict norms.

The dropouts will surely be able to eke out a living in the real world. No doubt, the job market outside of the Orange Bubble provides far easier opportunities for employment. May these deserters find companies who do not care whether they show up for work, who do not demand they show up on time and allow them to do crossword puzzles on the job. I'm sure many jobs like this exist, but the few and proud who work at Butler/Wilson do not expect to find them.

Instead, our battle-hardened workers must take solace elsewhere. It is not easy to be part of the Revolutionary Faction - but I do reward my warriors with salaries that are double those of the minimum wage proletariat who do the same jobs in the outside world. It is justified, for this is economic redistribution. No, my workers are not supporting families; they must buy books and survive in the pits of Princeton. For science's sake, do you know what that's like?

Certainly, the members of the Orange Guard drink together. I refuse to think, however, they are crushed by their jobs and are drowning their sorrows. Instead, I believe they join together for revolutionary camaraderie.

I cannot speak on conditions at the headquarters for our fellow revolutionary organizations, the other dining units on campus. Certainly we have visited them and seen their soldiers relaxing in serveries and - gasp! - talking to outsiders. It seems to us that the moral conditions at Rocky/Mathey and Whitman are almost criminally lax.

Sure, my minions get to drink water, talk to their friends and listen to music while they wash dishes, and they don't have to use a meal on nights when they're working. But it all balances out - after all, I make them come in on time. I make them wipe tables, mop floors and get slightly dirty for their $10, $11 or $12 an hour. I make them stand guard over - and restock - a salad bar. They take the abuse, reap the rewards and know that they are fighting for the cause of the Glorious Revolution.

Of course, there remains one question. Where did the intrepid reporter get his information? I did not hear from him before he exposed the plight of our suffering workers. I have already found one of my revolutionary sisters who spoke with him. Yet, half submerged in steam, soap and boiling suds, she promised me that she had told him nothing. She claimed that she had said nothing - only that she loved the dining hall, that the place was amazing, that she had made plenty of friends there, and that she couldn't see herself working anywhere else. Do not ponder her fate. Perhaps we need a purge to ensure that there are no more faint-hearted among us.

Our message to you, then, humble Princetonians, is this: Believe not the words you find written in these humble pages by the counterrevolutionaries. The bourgeoisie writes what they will, regardless of the facts. Ignore their accusations, look deep within yourself, and join the Revolutionary Orange Guard. We are the members of Dining Services, the revolutionary vanguard. The great showdown of Reunions draws near. Do you think you have what it takes?

This column is a response to ‘Job conditions in dining halls drive away student workers' (Thursday, April 3, 2008). Jordan Bubin is the Glorious Leader of the Revolutionary Orange Faction. He is also the Butler/Wilson PUDS coordinator. He can be reached at jbubin@princeton.edu.