Last week I wrote about how we often don’t know the names of the people sitting next to us in section, and that getting to know our classmates would surely strengthen both our learning and our community. Upon reflection, I have realized that I actually know a lot more names than I do faces at Stanford, thanks to the advent of the dorm chat list.

 

Mass emails, once something I rarely received, are now entrenched into daily life. The most prolific emailers, who are often people I have never met, seemingly turn to the chat lists for their every need. Rather than asking their neighbors, they beam their requests for staplers and textbooks and white dresses to hundreds of people.

 

Most people are polite, but being nice isn’t necessary to get what you want out of a chat list. I’ve seen messages along the lines of “Bring Scotch Tape. Rm 122. EOM” that were followed minutes later by “TAPE FOUND.”

 

The same principle that makes Internet spam profitable has led me to wonder if a request sent to a large enough dorm list (Crothers? Roble?) will inevitably be fulfilled. I was tempted to test this theory last year by writing, “Need free World Series Tickets. Rm 235. EOM,” but I am an A’s fan, and I really had no desire to watch the Giants win it all for the first time in 56 years.

 

While not as healthy as face-to-face interaction, there are undeniably some benefits to being connected to others through a chat list. Putting aside awareness-raising event fliers and job offers, their primary advantage is entertainment value.

 

If you’ve never lived in a large dorm, chances are that no one has ever offered you “Belgium chocolate wafers or shrimp chips: you choose” in exchange for lending her your “schoolgirl skirt.” You have probably never witnessed the online back-and-forth that occurs when someone leaves the products of their pig dissection in the dorm kitchenette. You are insulated from the charmingly mundane questions that mean so much to the community, such as “When are paninis served at Manz? eom” or the environmental consciousness that led one student to offer her extra banana to 200 people rather than let it go to waste. Perhaps most regrettably, you haven’t witnessed the evolution of a supportive, virtual community that enhances our physical community.

 

For example: Have you noticed that cookies and brownies are replacing the U.S. dollar as a token of exchange among Stanford students? A recent search of my email inbox found 43 chat-list messages in which students offered cookies or brownies in exchange for textbooks, ink cartridges, leather tights and more. The only problem with this trend is that too many people are using store-bought mixes instead of making their baked goods from scratch. Until the average batch of dorm cookies improves significantly, not everyone is going to participate in this new economy.

 

Despite the occasional curtness and some questionable culinary practices, I think it’s great that email is making friendly exchanges between students who don’t know each other more common.

 

Do you have any great dorm kitchen recipes? Share them with jeff2013 “at” stanford “dot” edu.