Partly Cloudy, 64°
"Hold the lettuce, right?"
At the time it seemed an innocuous question from employee to customer, but those four simple words held incredible significance to Gate frequenter Allison Cooper '11. After four years, nearly 1300 meal credits and what could be considered a lifetime supply of turkey pesto paninis no lettuce, Cooper had finally found her home.
An enthusiastic Cooper was kind enough to allow me to conduct an interview in the eatery itself, so as to best capture her in her element.
"Yeah, this is my place," boasted Cooper after receiving a perfunctory head nod from an apathetic cashier, who then returned to his Orgo notes. "Oh, him? He knows me."
"Step into my office," said Cooper, gesturing toward one of nine identical sets of shoddily upholstered couch areas. After explaining to a group of confused sophomores that they were in fact sitting at her table and then dejectedly waiting for them to finish eating, she and I were finally able to sit down and discuss her newfound regulardom.
"I'm sort of just friends with everyone who comes in here," explained Cooper as a timid freshman quietly siphoned an extra chair away from the table. "On campus I'm not much of a big deal, but in here I'm pretty popular."
Cooper then returned her panini, which had accidentally been made with chicken and tomato, before returning to the interview. "Oh that? Happens all the time," she explained, laughing.
Upon returning to the interview, Cooper took a moment to inquire of a friend sitting at a side table whether she'd be able to borrow some of his napkins.
"Yeah, sure, here you go," responded the student, politely handing her a small stack of the brown napkins. "But my name's not Terry. It's Steve."
"Ah, I knew it was something with an 'e' in it," recalled Cooper, returning to her seat.
Cooper continued to explain her intimate relationship with the Gate, detailing her love of clam chowder, oatmeal raisin cookies and all things Odwalla. "What makes me a regular, though, is not my familiarity with the food, but rather my peers' familiarity with me. People here see me as something of a mother figure."
"Hey, excuse me," interjected an animated young woman as she jovially approached the table. Cooper gave me a knowing look as the girl continued, "Did I leave my notebook under the table here? Ah, I guess not. Thanks anyway!"
"You're very welcome," replied a proud Cooper, taking a sip of her Nantucket Nectar and nodding. "You see what I mean? Mother."
Cooper concluded the interview by further demonstrating her regular status, swaggering into the food area and ordering 'the usual.'
"The usual what? Pizza?" replied a confused Gate employee.
Cooper turned to me with a smile and shrugged off the miscommunication. "He must be new here."
