The start of the spring semester is a time when many people make New Year's resolutions. This year, my resolution is to stop stealing.
I admit that I don't consider myself a hardened criminal. The closest I've come to serving time (and this is a true story) is when Ms. Allen sent me to the principal's office in seventh grade for using the sign-language alphabet to socialize during pre-algebra class. Nevertheless, I have a stealing streak. When I leave the dining hall, I take extra apples to replenish my home supply. My kitchen features a full set of 1920 Commons spoons, although I swear I don't remember how they got there.
Sadly, I think my New Year's resolution would be appropriate for many of us. Although acts of petty theft may seem unimportant, they actually constitute a serious problem. Last semester, I had an experience that reminded me of this fact.
As a Resident Adviser in Harnwell College House, I especially enjoy making the communal lounge look welcoming and pretty. After it was ruined by a summer flood, I spent much of the floor budget to purchase beautiful new furniture. My GA colleague and I enjoyed arranging the new decor, complete with lamps, sofas, curtains and a TV. The residents were provided with keys to the lounge, and the new amenities were extremely popular.
Unfortunately, the lounge door broke in October, leaving the room open. Within a week, everything was stolen. People even took light bulbs from wall-mounted lamps. During a floor study break, my residents had to sit on a dirty tile floor and eat Chinese food out of cardboard boxes on the ground.
After unsuccessful efforts to get the furniture returned, my colleague and I tried a more aggressive approach. We reported all the stolen items to the police and followed up with an e-mail that threatened room checks for the missing items and arrests for anyone caught. When I woke up the next morning, the hallway was crammed full of stolen stuff. Even more bizarre, I discovered returned objects that I didn't even know had been taken -- chairs and checkerboards that had been thieved in years past, long before I became an RA.
Although this is an extreme case, it is not an isolated one. Many people list the dining hall as their personal dishware supplier (and then they complain when Commons runs out of cups). I know someone who regularly shoplifts food items from Houston Hall. Every fraternity house I've been in sports at least three stolen road signs. And last September, The Daily Pennsylvanian published a forlorn letter from the owner of the brand-new Metropolitan Bakery, who had recently lost an expensive advertising piece to thieves.
Petty theft has real consequences. Although stealing from vague entities like dorms and dining halls might seem like a "victimless crime," the theft deprives other people of the opportunity to enjoy those items. Shoplifting from businesses causes price hikes that everyone must pay. Likewise, the government replaces road signs and lampposts using tax dollars, money that could be better spent on, say, schools and hospitals.
The strangest part is that many student thieves defend their actions with pseudo-populist rationalizations. People justify stealing from dining halls and dorms by claiming that tuition is too high or that the University is an uncaring corporation that deserves to be plundered. My shoplifting acquaintance says it's okay to steal from Houston Hall because "their food is ridiculously expensive." Most preposterously, people defend theft from businesses and government by saying that it makes them daring iconoclasts who are "sticking it to the Man." Apparently, nothing says "power to the people" like a roadblock in your bedroom.
As a reforming thief myself, I know how easy it is to fall back into old spoon-stealing ways. Here are some tips to curb your kleptomaniac urges.
First, every crime has a victim. Even if you have no sympathy for the owner of the stuff you're stealing, have sympathy for the innocent people it affects.
Second, there is nothing clever or antiestablishment about stealing from large institutions. It isn't Robin-Hood redistribution from the rich to the poor. More often than not, the owners are completely innocent. Furthermore, most Penn students aren't that downtrodden and can afford to buy a fork.
Finally, if you really do need the food or the money, there are honest ways to get it. Every day, there are Penn clubs giving away free food at their events. If you need silverware, Freshgrocer and many fast-food joints supply free plastic goods. Thrift stores can provide great deals on furniture.
In the spirit of my New Year's resolution, I think it may be time to give back my dining hall spoons. Likewise, I'd appreciate it if someone returned the last bean-bag chair that's still missing from my floor lounge. The residents of my hall would like some place to sit.
Jennifer Weiss is a senior Linguistics and Theatre Arts major from Los Angeles. War On Error appears on Wednesdays.
