Louis XIV may have sported some pretty high stilettos (thanks for the cocktail party fodder, Core Curriculum), but at least he had the courtesy not to stomp around the Ref Room. Heel Hater Meriam Raouf profiles that Butler Archetype whose sharp clicks down the marble hallway are turning your hair gray.
It’s Sunday night. You’ve managed to squeeze yourself into a prime spot (read: comfy armchair) in your favorite Butler room. The desk is warm, you’ve got extra highlighters, and you’ve run out of things to read in your newsfeed. You’ve hit the pinnacle of study conditions—and just in time, you think to yourself, as you open a Word document to start that 5-page paper due tomorrow afternoon.
Maybe you’ll even take it to the writing center in the morning and have someone proofread it. Ah, the very thought.
As you relish in your own academic planning and maturity, you can’t help but scoff at your disorganized peers who are very clearly watching Parks and Rec on their own laptops. But just as you’re really getting lost in your academic wet dreams…
…you… [Left foot]
…hear… [Right foot]
She comes to a halt, right beside your spot. She is wearing pumps, or wedges—whatever they are, they sound like tap shoes. And she will shuffle around your Butler room for the rest of the night.
Having found no empty seats directly next to you, she will proceed to pace up and down the stretch of walkway closest to you, pausing between the tables like a confused high school teacher proctoring an SAT exam. She’ll scan the tables for an empty spot, and upon finding one, will eventually settle down.
But not for long.
During this second lap, The Girl With Noisy Heels will give you a polite nod; she seeks your understanding and compassion. She’ll now leave her stuff to go down to buy coffee (“Be right back,” she’ll mouth, with a wink). She will click and clack out of the room, and you’ll let yourself relax, just a little bit.
With a sigh, you’ll put your janky Apple Store headphones on, hoping her heels break on the way to Blue Java.
But, no—rest assured, she will return, hot cup of coffee in hand. It won’t be until she sits down for about a millisecond that she’ll realize just how badly she has to use the bathroom. And then another millisecond before she’ll realize she forgot her phone in the bathroom, and before you know it, she’ll be looking for a new spot (“Creaky chair,” she’ll mouth, once again with a wink).
You don’t know why she wore her Louboutins to Butler, but you be sure that she’ll wear the heels down by the time you can even think of a thesis.