Why can’t their IDs just work? Get on that, Columbia.

The next edition of our East Campus Archetype series is a peculiar sight, all too familiar to Barnard students. Senior staffer Maddie Stearn presents the frustrating scene of a Barnard student attempting to enter the Heyman Center.

You’ve just left your first class and are meandering back to your cosy abode to take a mid-morning nap. Taking your time, you find your ID and mechanically get ready to swipe into EC. You’ve done it so many times that you don’t even think about it anymore. It’s like putting underwear on in the morning; you just do it.

But something gives you pause this time. It’s a voice. There’s something about it–a mixture of despair, frustration, and impatience.

You look up. Right.

Standing in front of the attendant is a Barnard student. She’s stating her case as if on trial, trying to get to her class in the Heyman Center.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen her. Hell, she’s here every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Even you, sleepy and oblivious EC resident that you are, recognize her by now and know her plight by heart.

Such a befuddling phenomenon. It’s never simple for her to get to this class. Her ID doesn’t work, of course, so every time she explains to the attendant that she has class in the Heyman Center. But there’s always something else. Sometimes the attendant makes her swipe her card twice before letting her in. Sometimes they take her ID. Sometimes they just stare at her.

Once, you saw the girl as she was leaving class. Her ID was taken hostage that day. You watched as she stood completely still, face reddening as it became clear that the new attendant could not locate her ID. The hostage was found eventually; still, you felt a pang of sympathy for the troubled Barnard student.

Today is a two-swipe day. She waves her ID over the reader twice, the attendant manually permits her passage, and the Barnard student all but sprints through the doors to her class.

You wave your own ID over the reader, relishing in the ease with which you pass through the gateway. Within seconds you’re back to thinking about the nap that awaits you.

The Barnard student does not cross your mind again.