A Tale of Mediocrity by Jordan Sandberg

A Tale of Mediocrity - by Jordan Sandberg

A Tale of Mediocrity

Not all personal experiences are wildly vivid and fascinating or full of depressing sob stories. Sometimes, the most memorable moments can be the simplest ones. Surely, you will probably remember skydiving on your eighteenth birthday more than a trip to the local coffee shop. But what will you have achieved by jumping off of that plane? You would not have conquered a fear. It may be frightening, but the fear was already conquered the moment you decided you wanted to go skydiving. But this story is not about conquering fears; rather, it deals with the most basic of social interactions.

High School is a time when we discover whether or not we want to fin with the crowd or stand out. Whatever stereotypical clique we may find ourselves falling into, be that the jocks, mathletes or even stoners, we all unconsciously (and sometimes consciously) strive to achieve one label in particular: popular. Some may deny it, others embrace it, but we all want it in one way or another; that feeling of superiority, constant admiration and that knowledge of being desired.

One girl in particular wanted to know what it was like to be one of the “popular kids”. This girl was not exactly someone who most would associate with the popular crowd. But this girl was not an eyesore. She considered herself to be pretty enough, but never a “bombshell”. Her hair was its natural color, her make-up was simple, and her clothes were never revealing. This girl excelled at all things academic and loved a good challenge. Getting an “A” in an Advanced Placement class was never an issue. One day, however, while nose-deep in her psychology textbook, she noticed something; something she never really stopped and thought about. The girl looked up, her green eyes fixed upon the simplest of objects: a cup of Starbucks coffee. It is not as though this girl had never laid eyes on one before, but something about this particular coffee cup struck her. Like Koehler’s Chimps, she had an “Aha!” moment (or for the non-psych majors, Oprah’s “Aha!” moments). Until that moment, she never particularly took notice of the type of people who usually drank Starbucks at her school. This girl, who had been in high school for three whole years already, only just noticed that the popular crowd were the Starbucks drinkers. The grin of a mad genius formed across her pale lips. She found her way in.

The next day of school was spent in keen observation. This was a girl who always strived to get her facts straight. If she was going to go for it, she was going to make sure she did it right. She learned that you can’t just walk into the school holding one of those cups and expect instant admiration. It was all about attitude.

Keep in mind, this was no simple task. Her school starts promptly at 7:26am, and simply getting out of bed to make it in time was challenging enough. Now she had to will herself out of bed early enough to both drive to Starbucks and still make it in time for homeroom.

The game plan was set. Unlike her usual evenings spent staying up late on the computer, browsing the same old sites over and over again, she took to the covers of her bed earlier that night. With an agonizing groan, she set back the time of her alarm a full thirty minutes, but she reassured herself that it would all be worth it.

The nagging alarm blared out its obnoxious signal much earlier than the girl realized it would. It was still dark out, but the time on her alarm clock was accurate. It took some strength and willpower to avoid hitting the snooze button and give up on her quest. She eventually pulled herself slowly out of bed, sliding her freezing feet into the fuzzy blue slippers that awaited them beside her bed. This girl was never a morning person to begin with and could accurately be compared to a zombie. But she was a determined zombie. Her eyelids felt like heavy weights, but she pushed through it and managed to leave her house with enough time to get that aforementioned coffee.

As she drove down Jog Road, she couldn’t stop herself from grinning. This was it, she was going to walk through the hall of her school with a Starbucks in hand and look so damn cool doing it. Pulling into the parking lot of the shopping plaza, the girl recognized a few of her more popular peers exiting the store with that cool dose of caffeine in their hands. “That will soon be me,” she told herself.
A parking space wasn’t the easiest thing to come by, but she found one only about thirty feet away from her destination. Her slightly dented, silver Nissan Sentra Se-R was put into park, and she quitted the car with a sense of pride. It didn’t even phase her that a sudden change of wind was blowing her hair in a bothersome way. She was now twenty feet, ten feet, five feet away from achieving a new social status.
As she pushed open the heavy door, the sound of a little bell alerting the staff of her entrance rang above her head. She only had less than a moment to glance up at it before being greeted by the unusual (to her, at least) smell of coffee beans. The whole atmosphere of the little shop had her mesmerized. Everything from the chic purple armchairs to the bohemian-styled wall art had her bewildered. Sitting near the window was what appeared to be a college kid typing away on his laptop, probably writing his thesis. But the simple fact that he was working on it at Starbucks made him that much cooler. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t question it. Instead, she timidly approached the cashier, a girl only about four years older than herself, who didn’t exactly look thrilled to be working at such a godforsaken hour, but forced a smile for each customer nonetheless. “Welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you?” She asked with that same fake smile. The girl looked up, confused, suddenly frightened. The chalkboard menu hanging overhead made no sense to her at all. Wasn’t coffee just coffee? What’s the difference between a frappuccino and a cappuccino? Why was the “tall” size similar in scale to that of a Kid’s Meal drink at McDonald’s? The AP student who could easily solve complex mathematical equations was stumped, beaten by a sign in complete gibberish. She had to have been staring at the board for at least a good minute and a half before the agitated cashier finally piped up again, “Ma’am, would you like to try our caramel-vanilla frappuccino?”

Since when was she a ma’am? “Uhh…sure! Can I get it in a medium?”

“You mean a grande?” She looked at this girl as though she had two heads just because she had no idea what the sizes even were. Some stupid middle-schooler, probably. “Would you like whipped cream on that?”

“I…I guess so.”

“One grande caramel-vanilla frap coming up! That’ll be $4.35.”

The girl blinked for a moment, but reluctantly handed over a five dollar bill. It was her lunch money for the day, but it would all be worth it in the end. She was not going to come this far and quit now just because of how obscene the price seemed. With a sigh, she strolled along the counter to where the customer ahead of her was waiting. Compared to her, he looked the picture of calm, cool and collected, as though he’s been there a thousand times before.

About two minutes later, her drink had arrived. She was so eager that she already had the green straw waiting out of its wrapping. Finally, she would be walking the halls of her school like the cool kids before her; with a Starbucks in one hand and a dose of awesome in the other.

As she pulled out of the parking space, she didn’t even once think to gander at the time until it was too late. As she waited in her car at the red light to turn into the school parking lot, she finally looked down. The clock on the car read 7:30. She shouted a stream of profanities at the time. It did nothing. When the light finally turned green, she drove past the gates and spent nearly three minutes looking for an available space, which felt like an eternity. As she schlepped her way from the far end of the parking lot toward the school, she suddenly didn’t feel as cool as she thought she would. Aside from no one being there to even witness her and her Starbucks, she was late to class and officially sullied her perfect attendance record, all before she even had a taste of that ungodly cool drink in her hand. “Thanks a lot,” she muttered with scorn at the drink, whose whipped cream had already melted into the coffee.

When late for school, students are sent to an unpleasant place called the Tardy Room. The frequent inhabitants of such room are your typical stoners, thugs and all around lazy crowd. No one in that room was cool or considered “popular”, and the girl, even with her Starbucks in hand, felt just as lame as the crowd slouched over the chairs nearby. Well, maybe it was still worth it, she thought to herself. She reached out for the drink that was currently causing circular water stains on the desk in front of her and took one sip of it. That one sip was like her world crashing down on her. There was nothing special or magical about a Starbucks coffee at all! It was mediocre at best! She was now rotting away in the Tardy Room because of this? As she walked over to the nearest trash can to dispose of her waste of time, another girl walked in, Starbucks in hand. The two met eyes before staring at the drink they each held.

“It wasn’t worth it,” she said to the new arrival, who couldn’t help but frown.

As the two of them threw out their failed attempts at popularity, they began to talk. This other girl had the same idea that she had! The two of them laughed over it until the bell signaling that first period had ended rang. As each girl gathered their belongings, they also took with them something more; a new friendship. Sure, they still were not the cool, popular kids but they thought themselves cool enough for going through all of that trouble and have since laughed together each time they passed someone in the hallway holding that signature coffee cup. It never had anything to do with the drink or the logo on it that made a person slightly cooler than the next. Ever since that wretched day, the girl never tried to do what everyone else did just to fit in, especially when everyone converted to drinking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee only two weeks later.

A Tale of Mediocrity - Assignment

The Personal Narrative: Experiences That Made You Who You Are

Paper Length: 5-7 pages

This paper is a chance for me to get to know you and for you to get to know your peers. It’s also a chance to experiment and have fun. This personal narrative is all about illustrating at least one significant moment in your life. This moment should be important to you and clearly reflected as such in your writing. If you want to explore more than one specific experience, that’s ok too- just make sure that these moments make sense together and work jointly to create a unified larger meaning or impact in your life. Try to limit yourself to three moments, though- it’s a short paper and it’s hard to be specific if you aren’t very focused. Remember, this moment must be one in which you feel comfortable sharing with your peers, as they will workshop your paper.

This is a personal narrative, and I want to get to know you through both your writing and your experiences. Let me see your personality and get creative. You can write in first person, or you can switch voices. Write with fragments. Use slang if you want. Be funny. Write poetry. Use different fonts and colors. Parody something. Run-ons, anyone? Don’t get lazy, though. Sometimes writing about yourself is the hardest kind of assignment.

In your first draft, don’t hesitate to experiment—that is what rough, shitty first drafts are intended for. If you are struggling and cannot decide which moments work best, then play with a couple of different ones, and in your workshop, ask your peers which moment or moments they like the most or believe possess the most potential—you can, of course, ask me as well. Think about moments that either shaped or revealed your character. If you are still wondering where to start, here are a couple of potential ideas:
-A trip to an exotic location
-The most difficult thing you ever had to do
-How a (insert person, place, or thing) changed your life
-A story that causes your family to pick sides
-Adjusting to college life
-The most uncomfortable situation you’ve ever been in

This essay, being that it is personal, should contain your voice; in other words, I don’t want you to strain yourself trying to emulate what is considered a “professional tone,” and I sure as hell don’t want you to write a five paragraph essay. Ignore what you did in high school: don’t be afraid to write conversationally for this assignment. This essay is about you, and as readers, we should be able to discern that it is written by you. Tell this story as only you could tell it: how is this your story and not your best friend’s, your neighbor’s, or even the person’s sitting next to you? It’s important for you to be creative and use different writing techniques, such as including dialogue. These moment/moments is/are significant, and you should treat it as such and do it justice. Put your reader in the moment and allow him/her to empathize.

There are many successful ways to write this paper. You could start in the present, go back to the past, tell what happened and how it changed you, and explain how it got to where you are today. Or, you can start with a way you used to feel about something/one, what happened, and finished with how you feel now. Yet another way would be to start in media res: in the middle. These are only a couple of approaches; however, no matter how you intend to write your essay, make sure it demonstrates the following:
Your personal emotions, reactions, and thoughts
-Details, details, details: your five senses kick ass—use them!
-A logical structure that is easy for your reader to follow
-Something personal, something unique
-Reflection: Your peers and I should be able to tell that this moment is significant and has impacted who you are today

The purpose: what will this paper actually do for you? It’s my aim to show you that creativity and writing in college can go together. It’s my aim to show you that a worthwhile and interesting piece of writing does not need to have a concrete beginning, middle, and end. My aim is to show you that using vivid detail enhances your writing immeasurably. My aim is to show you that you can tell a story by indirectly telling it. My aim is for you to realize something important about yourself and your writing. My aim is for you to actually enjoy this.

A Tale of Mediocrity - Draft 1

A Mediocre Tale

High School is a time when most children grow out of their childish habits and find out who they really are. A jock? Perhaps a mathlete? Stoner, even? Whatever stereotypical clique we may find ourselves falling into, we all unconsciously (and sometimes consciously) strive to achieve one label in particular: popular. Some may deny it, others embrace it, but we all want it in one way or another; that feeling of superiority, constant admiration and that knowledge of being desired. One girl in particular wanted to know what it was like to be one of the “popular kids”.

This girl was not exactly someone who most would associate with the popular crowd. But this girl was not an eyesore. She considered herself to be pretty enough, but never a “bombshell”. Her hair was its natural color, her make-up simple and her clothes were never revealing. This girl excelled at all things academic and loved a good challenge. Getting an “A” in an Advanced Placement class was never an issue. One day, however, while nose-deep in her psychology textbook, she noticed something; something she never really stopped and thought about. The girl looked up, her green eyes fixed upon the simplest of objects: a cup of Starbucks coffee. It is not as though this girl had never laid eyes on one before, but something about this particular coffee cup struck her. Like Koehler’s chimps, she had an “Aha!” moment (or for the non-psych majors, Oprah’s “Aha!” moments). Until that moment, she never particularly took notice of the type of people who usually drank Starbucks at her school. This girl, who had been in high school for three whole years already, only just noticed that the popular crowd were the Starbucks drinkers. The grin of a mad genius formed across her pale lips. She found her way in.

The next day of school was spent in keen observation. This was girl who always strived to get her facts straight. If she was going to go for it, she was going to make sure she did it right. She learned that you can’t just walk into the school holding one of those cups and expect instant admiration. It was all about attitude.

She now knew what she needed, but now she had to acquire the actual “golden ticket” that would seal the deal. If the coffee was the object that these popular kids had in common, than a coffee she would get.
Keep in mind, this was no simple task. Her school starts promptly at 7:26am, and simply getting out of bed to make it in time was challenging enough. Now she had to will herself out of bed early enough to both drive to Starbucks and still make it in time for homeroom.

The game plan was set. Unlike her usual evenings spent typing away endlessly on the computer, she took to the covers of her bed earlier that night. With an agonizing groan, she set back the time of her alarm a full thirty minutes, but it would all be worth it.

The nagging alarm blared out its obnoxious signal much earlier than the girl realized it would. It was still dark out, but the time on her alarm clock was accurate. It took some strength and willpower not to hit the snooze and give up on her quest, and she eventually pulled herself slowly out of bed, sliding her freezing feet into the fuzzy blue slippers that awaited them beside her bed. This girl was never a morning person to begin with and could accurately be compared to a zombie. But she was a determined zombie. Her eyelids felt like heavy weights, but she pushed through it and managed to leave her house with enough time to get that aforementioned coffee.

As she pushed open the heavy door, the sound of a little bell alerting the staff of her entrance rang above her head. She only had less than a moment to glance up at it before being greeted by the unusual (to her, at least) smell of coffee beans. The whole atmosphere of the little shop had her mesmerized. Everything from the chic purple armchairs to the bohemian-styled wall art had her bewildered. Sitting near the window was what appeared to be a college kid typing away on his laptop, probably writing his thesis. But the simple fact that he was working on it at Starbucks made him that much cooler. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t question it. Instead, she timidly approached the cashier, a girl only about four years older than herself, who didn’t exactly look thrilled to be working at such a godforsaken hour, but forced a smile for each customer nonetheless. “Welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you?” She asked with that same forced, fake smile. The girl looked up, confused, suddenly frightened. The chalkboard menu hanging overhead made no sense to her at all. Wasn’t coffee just coffee? What’s the difference between a frappuccino and a cappuccino? Why was the “tall” size similar in scale to that of a Kid’s Meal drink at McDonald’s? The AP student who could easily solve complex mathematical equations was stumped, beaten by a sign in complete gibberish. She had to have been staring at the board for at least a good minute and a half before the agitated cashier finally piped up again, “Ma’am, would you like to try our caramel-vanilla frappuccino?”

Since when was I a ma’am? “Uhh…sure! Can I get it in a medium?”

“I…I guess so.”

“One grande caramel-vanilla frap coming up! That’ll be $4.35.”

The girl blinked for a moment, but reluctantly handed over a five dollar bill. It was her lunch money for the day, but it would all be worth it in the end. She wasn’t going to come this far and quit now just because of how obscene the price seemed. With a sigh, she strolled along the counter to where the customer ahead of her was waiting. Compared to her, he looked the picture of calm, cool and collected, as though he’s been there a thousand times before.

About two minutes later, her drink had arrived. She was so eager that she already had the green straw waiting out of its wrapping. Finally, she would be walking the halls of her schools like the cool kids before her; with a Starbucks in one hand and a dose of awesome in the other.

When late for school, you’re sent to an unpleasant place called the Tardy Room. The frequent inhabitants of such room are your typical stoners, thugs and all around lazy crowd. No one in that room was cool or considered “popular”, and the girl, even with her Starbucks in hand, felt just as lame as the crowd slouched over the chairs nearby. Well, maybe it was still worth it, she thought to herself. She reached out for the drink that was currently causing circular water stains on the desk in front of her and took one sip of it. That one sip was like her world crashing down on her. There was nothing special or magical about a Starbucks coffee at all! It was mediocre at best! She was now rotting away in the Tardy Room because of this? As she walked over to the nearest trash can to dispose of her waste of time, another girl walked in, Starbucks in hand. The two met eyes before staring at the drink they each held.

“It wasn’t worth it,” she said to the new arrival, who couldn’t help but frown.

As the two of them threw out their failed attempts at popularity, they began to talk. This other girl had the same idea that she had! The two of them laughed over it until the bell signaling that first period had ended rang. As each girl gathered their belongings, they also took with them something more; a new friendship. Sure, they still weren’t the cool, popular kids but they thought themselves cool enough for going through all of that trouble and have since laughed together each time they passed someone in the hallway holding that signature coffee cup. It never had anything to do with the drink or the logo on it that made a person slightly cooler than the next. Ever since that wretched day, the girl never tried to do what everyone else did just to fit in, especially when everyone converted to drinking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee only a week later.

A Tale of Mediocrity - Draft 2

A Tale of Mediocrity

High School is a time when most children grow out of their childish habits and find out who they really are. Whatever stereotypical clique we may find ourselves falling into, be that the jocks, mathletes or even stoners, we all unconsciously (and sometimes consciously) strive to achieve one label in particular: popular. Some may deny it, others embrace it, but we all want it in one way or another; that feeling of superiority, constant admiration and that knowledge of being desired.

She now knew what she needed, but she still had to acquire the actual “golden ticket” that would seal the deal. If the coffee was the key to fitting in with the popular kids, than a coffee she would get.
Keep in mind, this was no simple task. Her school starts promptly at 7:26am, and simply getting out of bed to make it in time was challenging enough. Now she had to will herself out of bed early enough to both drive to Starbucks and still make it in time for homeroom.

A parking space wasn’t the easiest thing to come by, but she found one only about thirty feet away from her destination. Her slightly dented, silver Nissan Sentra Se-R was put into park, and she quitted the car with a sense of pride. It didn’t even phase her that a sudden change of wind was blowing her hair in a bothersome way. She was now twenty feet, ten feet, five feet away from achieving a new social status.
As she pushed open the heavy door, the sound of a little bell alerting the staff of her entrance rang above her head. She only had less than a moment to glance up at it before being greeted by the unusual (to her, at least) smell of coffee beans. The whole atmosphere of the little shop had her mesmerized. Everything from the chic purple armchairs to the bohemian-styled wall art had her bewildered. Sitting near the window was what appeared to be a college kid typing away on his laptop, probably writing his thesis. But the simple fact that he was working on it at Starbucks made him that much cooler. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t question it. Instead, she timidly approached the cashier, a girl only about four years older than herself, who didn’t exactly look thrilled to be working at such a godforsaken hour, but forced a smile for each customer nonetheless. “Welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you?” She asked with that same fake smile. The girl looked up, confused, suddenly frightened. The chalkboard menu hanging overhead made no sense to her at all. Wasn’t coffee just coffee? What’s the difference between a frappuccino and a cappuccino? Why was the “tall” size similar in scale to that of a Kid’s Meal drink at McDonald’s? The AP student who could easily solve complex mathematical equations was stumped, beaten by a sign in complete gibberish. She had to have been staring at the board for at least a good minute and a half before the agitated cashier finally piped up again, “Ma’am, would you like to try our caramel-vanilla frappuccino?”

Since when was I a ma’am? “Uhh…sure! Can I get it in a medium?”

“I…I guess so.”

“One grande caramel-vanilla frap coming up! That’ll be $4.35.”

“It wasn’t worth it,” she said to the new arrival, who couldn’t help but frown.