COLUMN: The all-important stamp

From Jason Brenner's, "My 20 Inches," Fall '97 From Jason Brenner's, "My 20 Inches," Fall '97 Its powers are legendary. Nearly every member of the senior class knows of its existence and some endlessly search for it with just as much motivation as Indiana Jones sought after the mythical Lost Ark. You cannot have it but you yearn to touch it, if only for a brief second. Once in its presence, the Penn senior feels rejuvenated, as if he/she dove headfirst into the fountain of youth. We in the senior class refer to this universally-revered object as "The Stamp." For those not initiated in the rites of the senior class, let me explain that The Stamp provides verification that a senior attended a given Senior Screamer and is thus eligible to receive the free Feb Club T-shirt. During the month of February, the Senior Class Board plans 12 Senior Screamers, collectively known as Feb Club. The main purpose of these events is to establish a network between the future business leaders of the country and to share ideas about new innovations in information technology. (OK, so I lied. In truth, Senior Screamers are just a time when the senior class gets together and drinks a lot of beer.) The Senior Class Board members -- including myself -- were elected democratically after something like 0.02 percent of the senior class showed up at the voting booths to cast ballots. (Don't laugh, that's about the turnout of the last Presidential election.) The board has one main function in life: sitting in the lounge of High Rise East every Monday and talking about the complex logistics of the next few Screamers -- mainly consisting of deciding who will work one-hour shifts as the venerable and worshiped Stamper. Although this whole process of selecting Stampers could take less than five minutes, we choose to meet for the better part of an hour in order to make ourselves feel important. Anyway, if a senior attends any nine of these 12 Screamers, he/she receives a free T-shirt. (Without The Stamp there is no proof of attendance and the whole event is doomed to failure.) Upon arriving at door, the bouncer checks the patron's identification (because underage drinking is illegal, not to mention against my Hare Krishna religious beliefs) and the senior hands the Feb Club card to the friendly Class Board representative who smiles heartily and Stamps the person's card. Now, you'd be really surprised how much a T-shirt can motivate a Penn senior. I'm convinced a solid majority of the class only goes to Screamers in order to receive the prized T-shirt. The funny thing is, this beloved T-shirt isn't even made up yet. (But they don't know that.) Anyway, as an official Stamper at some Screamers, I've seen people walk into the bar, have their card Stamped, and immediately leave. This leaves me with quite a few unanswered questions. Is it true that the only reason three-quarters of my class goes out is to receive a stupid T-shirt? How many people would stay in and study every night if we didn't bribe them to be social? One night, when I served as Stamper at a Senior Screamer, a certain former IFC officer approached me and demanded I Stamp his card multiple times so he could receive the cherished free T-shirt. I'll refer to him as Fruit Boy, not because I want to protect his anonymity, but because I forgot his name. Anyway, Fruit Boy was getting on my nerves so I gave him two or three extra Stamps to appease him. Not satisfied with my concession, Fruit Boy demanded more Stamps. I told him that as an active member in the Greek community, he should know how to go out to have an active social life and earn Stamps like everyone else. Apparently he disagreed. In the middle of this crowded bar Fruit Boy started yelling obscenities at me (often referring to me in slang for a choice part of a woman's anatomy) and tore up his Stamped card and threw it in my beer. Because of this foolishness, I make it a point to yell at people who only have one or two Stamps on their card. The way I see it, I'm doing them a favor by motivating them to have social lives during their last semester in college (that is, for those of them who are graduating in under a decade). You see, I don't want people to look back in ten years and say, "Why was I such a loser in college?" Some people say I'm a humanitarian; others call me a philanthropist; I feel I'm just doing my job. As powerful as the Stamp is, (If it ever falls into the wrong hands, modern civilization as we know it may crumble.) it cannot replace the feeling of socializing with one's peers. It cannot substitute for talking to old friends and meeting new ones. As Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back said, "The Stamp itself is powerless, Luke. The Stamp is inside you."