The Good Old Days

MJ Kaspura smiles and holds a megaphone she uses to persuade people to take newspapers while tabling for The Santa Clara. (Nina Glick/The Santa Clara)

Four years working in the same windowless, basement room surrounded by rotating eccentric characters got me thinking: is The Santa Clara just “The Office” in real life? 

It’s not like we all woke up one morning and decided to recreate the chaos, excitement and fun of the hit T.V. show. Rather, it seems to come quite naturally to our staff—right down to the chatting instead of working.

It’s always been surprising to me there hasn’t been a T.V. series about Santa Clara University’s newspaper staffers: the drama, the intrigue, the long nights spent desperately trying to submit the paper on time. And, there’s always the inevitable moment where someone will begin loudly reciting memes if the night progresses for too long. 

Much like “The Office,” our newsroom bickers over the correct takeout order—decidedly not no-cheese pizza—hosts an annual award ceremony honoring funny events and works alongside several other registered student organizations in the same building. Some might even venture to say the Associated Student Government is the “Vance Refrigeration” to our “Dunder Mifflin.” 

I would refrain from calling anyone the “Michael Scott” of our office, but let’s be real: it’s me. To the many, many students who got harassed by a woman outside Benson Memorial Center holding a megaphone begging you to take a newspaper: I hold no regrets.

The newsroom feels like home, no doubt about it. I’ve seen people come and go for four years, but I always knew the newspaper would be there. I’ve watched that door close behind every graduating senior headed off into real life, and open again for first-years buzzing with excitement about their future. 

Every goodbye hug marked a fork in the road: their next chapter beginning, mine staying the same. I would still be right there. Same chair, same room, same glowing screen at far too late an hour.

Except, I won’t be. Time marches forward—my mom says it never stops, can you believe it?—and I too am leaving soon. The photos on the walls will become memories, our presence lingering in old newspapers, crumpled post-it notes and disregarded whiteboard drawings. 

I wish, like “The Office,” I could rewind and relive these moments. I wish there was a remote control to go back four years and work in the newsroom with my old editors again, or pause Thursday night meetings in place to soak up my friends forever. Grown-ups always tell you to slow down, to not try and grow up so fast. I never really understood that sentiment until now. 

So, for my final goodbye, I leave you with the words Andy Bernard famously used to summarize his glory days: “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”