Butler Archetypes: The Professional
Written by Bwog Staff
It’s that weird point in the semester when your midterms are mostly over, and it’d be too soon to start studying for finals. In other words, it’s the perfect time to take a break from Butler, right? Wrong—for The Professional, at least. Join Amateur Anthropologist Brian Wagner as he chronicles yet another Butler Archetype. Color-coded index cards abound.
The weary fellow across the table from you is hardly finished packing up his laptop, when—whoosh! You see a blur of shoulder pad, smell a whiff of coffee, and before you can put two and two together, she’s already there. Thud. Her backpack hits the chair. Zip. Out comes a laptop. And a pile of books. Arranged by size, of course. The light reflects off the glossy post-it bookmarks and a flurry of notecards emerges from beneath the table. Meet the Professional.
Next come the coffee drinks. One thermos—its contents should stay warm for an hour (neatly, she writes “60 min” on a post-it note and sticks it to the thermos’ side). A freshly-purchased banana from Bulter Cafe rests atop her book pile, and a 5-Hour Energy is placed to the side for later, to stave off the impending caffeine crash. Then out come her “power snacks”; a Clif bar, a bag of pretzels, and a chocolate bar (with which she will create an intricate reward system for timed study tasks).
With a flurry of activity, her hair assumes the “study bun” position, and she’s ready to work. Leafing through notebook pages so fast your head starts to spin, you stare in awestruck wonder at the blazing machine-like efficiency, envy growing by the second. Lowering your glum gaze to your laptop screen, upon which the only words of your essay yet written are “Since the beginning of civilization,” you reflect sadly on all that your day at Butler could have been. If only this were your Super Bowl. If only you weren’t watching the Varsity practice from the sidelines.
You see her scoff at the person watching Hulu at the end of the table. Smiling to yourself, you consider making a comment. Just a small pleasantry. After all, she is kind of cute. That study bun really works for her eyes, and there’s something so damn attractive about all that color-coded highlighting. But the fwap of yet another organic chemistry index card snaps you out of your daydreams and back to your lonely, unprepared lifestyle.
To her, you’re not even JV.