Kirsten Rivera (The Beacon)
By Kirsten Rivera, Guest Commentary
For whatever reason, our soap dispensers are always either empty, or broken, or crazy. I once had a dispenser shoot soap at me. Violently. I think it was aiming for my head. Yes, I might be exaggerating a little, but you catch my drift.
Now, I don't blame this issue on anyone in particular. Our physical plant workers are absolutely fantastic and do a wonderful job keeping our school in the best shape they can. But, the problem still stands: my hands are not getting the germ-fighting protection that they deserve!
I don't think I'm asking for much. All I would like is to be able to walk into a bathroom without being that weird girl who pulls a package of baby wipes from her purse. I would even give up the luxury of revolutionary soap-dispensing technology! I am willing to lower my personal standard of living just to avoid another awkward conversation with a freshman who thinks we have to bring our own soap to school.
University of Portland, hear my plea. Please give me soap. That's all I ask.
Until this soap situation is resolved permanently, I'll continue to carry an arsenal of hygiene products in my backpack. So, if you're ever in need of hand sanitizer, baby wipes, dishwashing liquid or alcohol swabs, come find me. I spend most of my time dusting between the keys in the Franz Hall computer lab.
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has noticed the shocking lack of functioning soap dispensers here on campus. I am, however, almost positive that I'm the only one who decided to write a poem about it.
Kirsten Rivera is a senior operational technology management major. She can be reached at rivera14@up.edu
Hate poem to soap
Soap dispenser, I hate you now. I hate you so much, I'll punch a cow. I hate you here, I hate you there. I pretty much hate you everywhere.
You're either empty or you're broke. Waiting for soap is such a joke. Sometimes you don't give me enough. Sometimes you give me a tiny puff.
Sometimes you give me way too much. And with soapy hands, I hate to touch. Soap dispenser, you're such a tool. You're making me look like such a fool.
I will not use you here in Franz. I will not use you for my hands. I will not use you, 'cause I can't. Now germy water runs down my pant.
Soap dispenser, you make me sad. Please get fixed, then I'll be glad.
-Kirsten Rivera
