I’m sure your winter break involved myriad uncomfortable holiday dinners. Did your dad’s new girlfriend get hammered and make some ~mildly racist comments~? Did you get hammered and make some ~mildly racist comments~?
Of course, given the fact that only we Yale Daily News writers actually read the Yale Daily News, I suspect you did the latter. Either way, no matter how badly you fucked up this winter break, you can take solace in the fact that Yale Dining fucked up their holiday dinner more than you did.
If you aren’t on the meal plan, I suppose you wouldn’t get it (odd flex, I know.) While no one thought to talk about it — at least within the public realm — everyone who checks their Yale email religiously will surely remember the holiday dinner CORRECTION debacle.
Taking a dig at Yale and New Haven employees has never gone well, but, alas, I’ll make sure to remain tasteful. For you peons who do not use the meal plan, let me set the scene, from my perspective.
I suppose, actually, the scene is rather similar for everyone who got the emails. We all sat in our rooms, libraries, levels of the stacks for quiet “studying,” when Yale Dining popped into our inboxes. “Fuck that, who cares,” we all subconsciously thought, and banished the useless email to our archives.
Then, a few hours later, all of us still in the same position (except for those in the stacks; I hope you were in a different position after a few hours), Yale Dining sent another email. Then a few hours later (for your health, stacks people, I hope you had finished), another email. Both of these pieces of correspondence were informative emails informing us, the student body, that they had misinformed us regarding the holiday dinner.
Arguably, if not certainly, fucking useless information. Do people actually go to the holiday dinners? It’s to my understanding that the holiday dinner had long ago fallen out of style, but I digress.
The plot synopsis is far from riveting; it hardly reads like a Stephen King novel, but most stories involving Yale bureaucracy are just as bland.
Yet, as I’m sure we all know, the Yale student body always seems to have too much time on their hands, and, as a result, Yale Dining imposters eventually falsely informed me that, students in the class of 2021 with their last names starting with “T” would be eating in Trumbull.
First of all: gross. For all you Trum Bulls out there, I hope you outsource your nutritional resources.
Second, hardly a dastardly act. Ethan Campbell’s ’22 response, which was sent to all of Yale College, “Where do I put my feet,” was absurd enough to be funnier than the e-pranksters.
I can’t write this article without calling out the physical embodiment of a killjoy who responded, “What we’re not gonna do is spam everyone. Please exit my inbox.” Yet, writing fake emails to the entire college can be, without a doubt, useful. Therefore, if you still have too much time on your hands, or if you were one of the Yale Dining e-facades, here are some suggestions on who you should impersonate next.
1.) The Yale Daily News morning newsletter
Have you ever considered writing for the news? Of course you haven’t; that would be a nightmare. Rather than reporting on the news, you can make up whatever news you’d like! Will University President Peter Salovey finally terminate the student income contribution? Will Dave Swensen have another crazy fucking rant against the News? If you can find the YDN’s daily newsletter panlist, you can decide.
2.) Assistant Dean for the Arts Kate Krier
Every week, Krier asks, “What are you doing this weekend?” And the answer is almost invariably nothing regarding Yale College Arts whatsoever. If you can find that panlist email, you can plug your own arts performances or, send the panlist to 325 East St. for contemporary performance art.
3.) Your personal head of college
I suspected that my head of college (who shan’t be named) had their email hacked in recent weeks, as I received an email that advertised a “sophomore-only welcome back party at Box 63,” which featured a student DJ and “mocktails.” That was followed by a warning that “unauthorized tour groups” were breaking into college courtyards and wreaking photographic, selfie-stick havoc. If you can creatively come up with more suspiciously titled emails, all the power to you. If you could find a way to either push back the deadline to hand in final schedules or send me $50 on Venmo (@ntabio89), it’d be greatly appreciated.
Nick Tabio | firstname.lastname@example.org .