During a job interview a few weeks ago, a prospective employer asked me about my current hobbies and said I couldn’t count working for The Plainsman as one of them.
I quickly and wittily replied, “Of course not, because it’s not a hobby, it’s a way of life.”
The two interviewers in the room and I laughed because that statement is hilarious in the purest it’s-funny-because-it’s-completely-true kind of way.
When I get older and start looking back on my years at Auburn, I know what I’m going to remember most.
My fondest memories won’t be thoughts of skipping gaily across Samford Lawn or cheering during football games; they will be of the nights I spent working in the Foy basement, trying to churn out that week’s edition of the paper.
The staff of The Auburn Plainsman is a unique branch of Auburn’s family tree, composed of some of the craziest, funniest and greatest people I’ve ever met.
I know some people reading this column will never understand the bond that comes from working at this paper. That’s okay, because I’m sure they would probably rather retain their sanity than know this type of lunacy.
So in lieu of getting all sappy while reminiscing through memories both misty and watercolored, I decided I’d write my last column last-will-and-testament style, leaving pearl (earrings) of wisdom and a few laughs for each member of the editorial staff.
Jordan — I leave you a homing device for your straitening iron, so you won’t step on it ever again.
Mallory — I leave you our weekly Tuesday morning biatch-fests before our 9:30 a.m. classes.
Brittney — On my desk, lies a certain crime report. I want you to keep it in your arsenal just in case a certain someone tries to give you any lip.
Anna — I leave you a gargantuan-sized bag of Heath candy bars, because some days you just need two.
Emily — I’m leaving you a megaphone so your voice can always be heard. We all knew it was hiding in there somewhere.
Kevin — For you, I leave the planet Melmac, an afro pick, Cliff’s brain (because you know he doesn’t use it) and the ultimate amount of random Foy knowledge.
Blake — I leave you the best dancing-while-still-sitting-down skills anyone could have and a can of Skoal to chew while listening to Julie talk at the office.
Ross — I’m leaving you the “black sheep of the editorial board” status that you hold so dear and enough Lakers to start your own team.
Rachel — To you, I leave someone to always watch “The Hills” with and our Monday afternoon talks with Carl, because I’ll miss them.
Pete — I leave you a trophy for your Wednesday night dance moves and a white jumpsuit for when you star in the remake of “Saturday Night Fever.”
JD — For you, new bandanas in a rainbow colors so you can change them up every once in a while.
Lindsey — I’m leaving you a bottle of Airborne and a plastic bubble to help out your immune system.
Kyle — I leave you K-Ci, JoJo, your newfound fame and “special lady friend.”
Alex — I leave you some sweet tea (I’m Chris Hansen) and a pair of JNCO jeans.
Lauren — My bar buddy, I leave you the fake middle name “Jane.” I don’t know why David thought it was real. Also, I’ll leave you a temporary tattoo of John McCain; may it help you decide where to put the real one.
Katie — Keebs! I’ll leave you subscriptions to every bridal magazine known to man, a framed copy of the Second Amendment and a lifetime membership to the NRA.
Julie — Ah Beetis, I leave you Wilford; take good care of him. Also, I’ll leave you a drawer full of sugar-free candy and some low-carb margarita mix.
Natalie — For you, my new favorite, I leave you a glass of fruit punch, new bulbs for when your lights don’t work anymore and the ability to make funny faces to suit your every mood. Good luck as summer editor; you’ll do just fine.
Kristi — I leave you Moe, because he’ll miss us on Tuesday nights. Also, a copy of “Rosemary’s Baby” on DVD to use as a historical reference text and the ability to laugh like a muppet. You’re going to be a great editor next year, despite whatever David tells you.
Cliff — For you, my friend, I leave a few flying highlighters, some term papers to grade, a few plastic apples and Xenu. I was going to leave you something else, but then he was all like “Oprah!”, and then I dropped a peppermint and didn’t see anything else.
David — Last, but not least, I leave a pint of chicken salad, a copy of the Republican playbook and an iron fist ... the good kind not the bad kind like Saddam Hussein. You better, or penalty.
I hope each of you have had as much fun working here this year as I have. You all mean the world to me, and I love each of you very much.
So, as I leave college life behind, I’ll say “hello” to the real world and wave goodbye to The Auburn Plainsman.
God, I’m going to miss all of this.
War Eagle.
Kendra Carter is News Editor of The Auburn Plainsman. You can reach her at 844-9157.
