potato, potato?

Operation: Make Lee Mimms a Hall Counselor. By Anna Marie Smith

As logistics would have it, my semester abroad did not coincide with the majority of my classmates. With this understanding, I knew that many friends and my roommate Mary Lauren would be going abroad during the time when I would be returning from other continents. So I subconsciously started a roommate search.

Throughout the semester, I hung out in kati ruark’s room, preparing for singing telegram gigs. We would collaborate on a song, then show it to a few people who passed through the hall during the process. On one occasion, lee mimms walked by kati’s room. The fact that I didn’t really know Lee didn’t stop me from inviting her in and asking for constructive criticism about our rendition of some sappy 90s song we had never heard before as we danced around in our ushe giraffe and dragon costume, made for 3 year olds. Before this time, the only thing I knew about Lee was her outstanding ability to make dinosaur noises, something that had spread through the campus like wildfire during my freshman year. This was enough to let me know she was a winner.

During post-rehearsal convo, a fun fact about lee arose. She was not planning to go abroad, but rather staying at Davidson her junior year. Thinking it would be the perfect time to capitalize on a developing friendship, I opened my eyes really wide and exclaimed “PERFECT!... WE CAN BE HALL COUNSELORS!” She looked less than thrilled, yet entertained by how serious I was acting.

This was the beginning of something that would last for days… weeks… months… -- longer than I ever expected, to say the least. For the next few weeks, every time I saw lee, I would comment about being my hall counselor partner-in-crime. It became one of my favorite jokes. I thought it was soooo funny to always be ultra serious about it, so much that people around would ask me afterwards, “are you serious?” I would tell them no, but that it was really satisfying to build up the concept, even though it would never actually happen.

I constantly popped this joke. When I ran into her at the Union: [in a ron burgundy serious sorta voice] “Lee, I thought of some hall programs for our hall next year.” Or upon our impromptu encounter at commons, “hey lee. we need to talk. some girls on our hall [eyebrow raise]…” She would join in on the joke, but then dismiss it, with no intention of becoming a hall counselor. One particular night, I stopped by a room where lee was chillin with some other folk. I pulled a ‘hall counselor’ joke, and the others in the room gave a nervous laugh, as though they didn’t get it. Lee even pointed out that “This is the probably the worst idea EVER. I would be a terrible hall counselor.” We laughed and moved on.

Over Christmas break I sarcastically emailed lee asking, “how’s the resume coming along? You are probably finished with it already, but I figured I’d check anyway.” After receiving her reply, I realized -- there was hope. The joke was so ingrained in Lee’s head that she had no other options but to begin the application. I had accomplished a feat I never even expected to
happen. The rest is history.

Order of events: Lee and I both apply. Lee and I are both accepted. Lee and I request to room together during the roommate pairing process. Lee and I will be living happily ever after in Little 306.


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My side of the story: a counter-argument by one Lee Mimms.

Anna Marie Smith is kind of a legend, according to the walls of Davidson College. Simple whispers of her name elicit euphoria; excitement, trepidation at times. Many-a-time, I’d been told that she and I would get along terrifically (I believe the exact words were actually: “you two would be perfectly crazy for each other” – potato, potato) and I oft wondered who this elusive and conniving creature was.

First semester of sophomore year, I became acquainted with the infamous Anna Marie. She would frequently appear on our hallway, clad in preschool attire, ready to perform singing telegrams in the hopes of acquiring adequate funds for a Segway. One fateful afternoon, I was festering in Kati Ruark’s room when Anna Marie bounced in. The three of us sat on the floor together, in triangular formation, and chit-chatted idly (read: procrastinated up the wazoo). At some point in our conversation, it occurred to all three of us that none of us were going to be abroad the next year. I filed this information away, and devoted myself to allowing my relationships with both Kati and Anna Marie to ferment into something beautiful. I remember Anna Marie mentioning something about becoming a hall counselor to which I politely replied, “Oh, that would be fun!” Thinking nothing of my innocent comment, I perpetuated the conversation with other fun facts (like the human head weighs about eight pounds – Jerry Maguire shoutout!).

When, a few days later, Anna Marie surprised me with questions about how my RLO application was coming along, I was taken aback. Had I, in a drunken stupor, promised Leslie that I would become a hall counselor? Had I slept-walk all the way down the hill to Anna Marie’s dorm and asked her to be my future roommate? To whom am I posing all these questions? Well, anyway, I nervously told her that they were coming along fantastically –when what I really meant was, I hope she’s kidding. Upon future encounters, Anna Marie would ask similar questions or tell me she thought of a great idea for a hall program or would suggest a hall theme. I let the idea percolate in my brain, flirting with the concept of actually applying for the esteemed position of hall counselor. I would always squelch these sprouts – I don’t have the initiative, motivation, or GPA to be a hall counselor. The girls would hate me. I drink too much. Sometimes I listen to Cher’s “Gypsys, Tramps, and Thieves” on repeat. For hours. At the highest volume possible. (Anna Marie, this is actually true. You’ve been warned.) No one wants that to be their role model. I told Anna Marie all of this once, and she laughed it off and told me that it was the faults in someone that are their most wondrous traits. Something along those lines.

Come December, I received an email from Leslie Urban saying that I had been highly recommended for the position of a hall counselor by my own former hall counselor. Thinking it was probably an advantageous move to start a resume, anyway, I set about on that very task. Next thing I knew, I had applied for an RLO position and had been accepted. I think the moral of this story is that they’ll let anyone into RLO these days. Even me.