To that Guy who Resorts to Snarky Letters in The Observer, ("You know who you are" Nov. 16), rather than actually talking to a girl:
Why yes, I do know who I am. How astute of you to make that deduction.
Mr. Kachadoorian, I am disappointed in you. Have you really been in line behind me four times? Why did you not, at any previous time, speak up and say, "Excuse me, I seem to lack the ability to go around you so could you perhaps let me pass?" I would have happily moved aside for you.
Mr. Kachadoorian, it is your conduct that is unacceptable. While others respect the dignity of students who dislike paper-thin carrot shavings and instead choose the large ones, you literally stand there making snide comments in your head and ignore the fact that some of us would rather choose exactly what we would like to eat rather than scoop piles of carrots into our bowls and throw away the ones that we find disagreeable. Shouldn't we all do our part to diminish the amount of waste the dining hall produces?
I sincerely doubt that your rage is uncontrollable, just as I doubt that I've impaired an otherwise pleasurable dining experience for hundreds of hungry students. Also, it certainly does not take me five minutes to fill a bowl with carrots. Hyperbole is unbecoming in an argument, so please forgive me if I disregard your letter and proudly continue to choose my carrots as I please. I refuse to stand aside as a silent victim of your rude, thoughtless crime against a harmless, friendly girl who simply doesn't like puny carrots.
Haste makes waste, take time to smell the roses, you could always just go around me, etc. And please, Mr. Kachadoorian, if you truly didn't want to resort to The Observer, you would have regarded common courtesy and said something to me first rather than making a spectacle of the situation. At five foot two, I'm hardly intimidating.
In Notre Dame,
That Carrot Girl
Kiely King
senior
Pasquerilla West Hall
Nov. 11
