Dear Bookstore, 

Life has a lot of persistent, unanswerable questions: Did Lee Harvey Oswald act alone? Who  ever thought frosted tips were a good idea? When is somebody going to take one for the good of society and kill Ke$ha with a shovel? 

These questions may nag at me, but only one has kept me awake for as long as I’ve been a college student, and now I finally take the time to ask you for a simple answer.

Bookstore, why the fuck do I have to leave my stupid backpack in a cubby in order to come inside? 

I understand you have a lot of desirable commodities. Who wouldn’t want to shoplift one of those old Greg Paulus jerseys (Yup. They’re still there. And still cost sixty bucks.)? Or any of the wide variety of inexplicable Dr. Suess Syracuse-related items? 

But listen, bookstore. We live in modern times. Everything in the bookstore has a little…plastic device thing attached to it that sets off alarms all over the place. Technology has taken us to such great heights, we can now shop while carrying a bag brought in from the outside. I know, I know. Human progress is astounding. Astounding to the point where YOU ARE THE ONLY STORE I HAVE EVER BEEN IN that refuses to let me just…have a backpack with me. 

So seriously. Let me take my goddamn bag inside. It’s been over ten years now since I last stored my backpack in a fucking cubby. And, if you just got rid of the long obsolete cubby/locker system, then you could fire that one guy at the door whose solitary task at work seems to be telling people to leave their bags at the door. Look, I’m saving you money and preventing you from looking like tremendous doofi (plural of doofus, look it up). 

You’re welcome. 


Kevin Slack