Don’t be like Frank

– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist –

My daughter, Hannah, has lived in a college dorm since her freshman year. The first semester was an “ease-in” transition for her, as she didn’t have a roommate. Everything kind of went downhill from there.

The second semester, she would have an international student from Malaysia, as a roommate. She was thrilled, excited to learn about a new culture and possibly collect a few new recipes. It didn’t exactly go as planned.

Charlotte was a very sweet person, but Han soon felt overwhelmed. Each time she entered their room, Charlotte, and four or five fellow Malaysians, would be stuffed into the too small dorm room. (This was pre-COVID-19, so no occupancy restrictions were in place).

Han understood they were from a different country and everything was new to them. It was only natural they would find solace in each other’s company, but Han not only felt like an intruder in her own room, it was nearly impossible to concentrate on homework or study, with them talking.

Hannah’s sophomore year wasn’t much better. Her roommate was inconsiderate and had a boyfriend who was there constantly. Kayla would return to the room late at night, and even though they had several strands of battery-operated decorative light strings around the room, which provided ample light, Kayla would turn on the bright overhead light, aware that Han had early a.m. classes.

Hannah shared her microwave with Kayla, because of limited space. Kayla would heat a rice bag in the microwave to use when she didn’t feel well, placing the bag on her body, with no clothing or towel, between her skin and the bag. OK, whatever works: however, she would reheat it, placing it directly on the turntable plate.

That’s disgusting. (Hannah promptly ditched that microwave at the end of the semester.)

The next year started out perfect. Han and her best friend, Faith, were roommates. Sadly, that only lasted the first semester. The university went to online classes only, because of COVID, for the second semester, so Faith moved home, so she could continue working, while completing her online courses.

This past year’s roommate was the worst of all. I’m not writing about this to trash talk or humiliate him, so I’ll just refer to him as Frank. Hannah and Frank shared an apartment-style, two-bedroom dorm suite. They have been friends for several years; going out with mutual friends, going out to eat, playing tennis, watching movies together and both enjoyed cooking.

Han was excited, because they hung out together so often, she was sure they would be compatible flatmates. She was sorely disappointed to discover this was not the case and you never really know someone until you share living space.

Frank is a very nice young man, but is clueless how to successfully co-exist with someone. At the start of this venture, they drew up, and signed, a roommate contract, which stated what’s expected from each occupant. Taking out the garbage, cleaning, as well as sharing common space (kitchen, dining, living area).

It was obvious from the start, that Frank had a different idea of what the contract guidelines meant. The entire school year, he emptied the garbage once, which he didn’t take to the designated area where a dumpster was provided by the university. He just removed the bag from the trash can and placed it right beside it.

He would let his dirty dishes pile up in the sink, on the counter top, on the dining table and in his room. The pathetic part, is the dorm contained a dishwasher. Frequently, the dishes would still contain leftover food he hadn’t finished or bothered to scrape into the garbage.

He never learned to fill the empty bowl with hot, soapy water for easier clean-up. When Frank eventually washed dishes, he would use Hannah’s paper towels and dish soap to wash them. The paper towels were Bounty brand, but NOT meant for repeated uses, to scrub dirty dishes, rendering every item he washed shining with oily residue.

Frank had his own set of dishes, but when any of his items weren’t clean, he would use Hannah’s cookware, spices and cleaning tools, ruining several things. Han is not one for confrontations and is too kindhearted to say something that might hurt someone’s feelings, so she never aired her grievances and kept her emotions bottled in.

Hannah’s bedroom door rule was simple: door closed, light off; sleeping. Door closed, lights on; studying and doing homework, or dressing. Door open, lights off; not there. Frank would continually come in late, slamming the door, yelling, “I’m back!”

Extremely frustrating for Hannah, who worked overnight shifts, while carrying a full credit load.

The incident that finally made my temper skyrocket, was Frank would eat all of Hannah’s shredded cheddar cheese or Parmesan, leaving less than a teaspoonful in the container, as if she wouldn’t notice. The final straw...he ate her Babybel cheeses.

That is stepping way over the line. You just don’t mess with a person’s cheese stash.

This is just a reminder to all you high school graduates who will have a roommate in college: be aware of the other person’s space, be respectful and don’t take advantage of a person’s generosity, allowing both occupants to have a relaxing, enjoyable experience.