"Miss, I have a question." (Silvia)

If you’re ever in primary school or some event with little kids, take a look at how they put their hands up. Instead of asking their question, they say, “Miss, I have a question.”
I’ve had the urge to do the same thing lately. A thought has been niggling at my mind and I want an answer. But I don’t even have a clue who I should be talking to.

So instead of being a smart, techy girl and using Google to stalk the people responsible, I’m going to rant about it here and hope the next person will be smarter.
The question I want to ask is: WHO THE HELL MAKES BUILDINGS OUT OF MATERIAL THAT INTERCEPTS PHONE RECEPTION?!

What century are we living in now? Do they not realise we are uni students with many friends and the fate of our social lives lie in their hands? Do these architects find it amusing to watch our self-esteem drop like an asteroid onto Earth? Do we poor uni creatures exist for their entertainment?

I am quite aggravated. I like to meet up with friends when I have a break and yesterday was no different. I was all, “OMG, yay!” when my goat ringtone sounded and I received a message from Jobe, the big, friendly giant (who tried to toss me through a roof earlier this year).
With the skills of a ninja, I texted him back lightning fast: going to union house with hugo, wanna come?
After buying lunch and getting no reply from Jobe, Hugo and I headed to the chem building and settled in for a two hour break. We thought nothing of it.
When I exited the building three hours later (I had a class there), my goat went off again. Puzzled, I checked the message and my heart pummelled down into the depths of my gut. A message from Jobe, asking me where I was in Union House!
Oh daaamn.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and sprinted to the bus stop. I was going home. If Jobe found me, he’d probably try toss me through a window this time!

But no, even at home, I was not safe. Damned Facebook.
Was it possible to use cruel words to make a person feel so bad they’d weep? To make them apologise wholeheartedly over and over, begging for forgiveness and promising it would never happen again? Okay, I didn’t cry, beg or promise. What kind of a story would this be if I didn’t exaggerate a little? Jobe (eventually) forgave me but still, I felt plenty guilty.

The chem building isn’t the only one without reception. There’s a few others as well. I bear a grudge against the people who made those buildings and I hope future architects will spare a thought for us. This week, I learned: when I’m in one of the no reception buildings, I should walk out every now and then to check I’m not unintentionally dissing my friends.

Sowwy again, Jobe D:

~Silvia