Every piece of technology on the Ashland University campus is a member of a secret cult.

They conspire during their free time to plan exactly when and how to malfunction in such a manner that no one can ever use them.

Of all the things I will miss about Ashland University when I graduate, the legion of things that break down on this campus is possibly my favorite.

Sure, it’s aggravating when you skip half your lunch break trying to find a printer on campus that actually works, but at the end of the day, it’s not so bad. Flaws like these give a school character and help students form warm, fuzzy memories.

Exhibit A: One of my most embarrassing moments in college had to do with a broken printer.

Freshman year, I left my dorm 15 minutes early to stop in Patterson and print an essay before class, figuring that was ample time to print a short document.

Oh, how wrong I was…

I hadn’t been here long enough yet to know that the printers on this campus only work when they feel like it, and they’re more worthless than a Bumpit^TM.

Five computers, three printers and 25 minutes later (yes, I was late to class), I finally held my essay in my hands. Sort of.

It was printed on both sides of the page, which I lost points for, along with the brownie points I lost in my professor’s eyes. (He didn’t speak to me for the rest of class after uttering a brief, irritated “buenas noches” when I arrived at 1:09 p.m.)

No one in particular is to blame.

I greatly respect the AU maintenance department; I can’t imagine having my job description read: “Clean up after roughly 2,500 crazy college kids’ escapades… every day.”

This does not, however, change the fact that something is always broken in numerous buildings across campus at any one given moment.

Printers are the biggest problem, but they’re not alone.

When I lived in Myers, the DVD player was the joke of the building. I lived there for two years and never once used it because it was perpetually broken – the disc tray didn’t work, it wouldn’t turn on, it threatened to explode, etc. At one time, it had a label that instructed people to use the remote because the buttons didn’t work; the remote, however, was usually broken, lost or missing its batteries… (I hope the kid who stole the batteries is reading this: do you feel cool?)

The technology is spreading the rebellion to the rest of campus, too.

The water fountains often lack water, the sweepers don’t all sweep and certain showers only have one temperature: ice friggin’ cold.

The doors to my senior apartment building have been broken all year. Initially, they didn’t close properly and, therefore, didn’t lock. (Final thoughts before falling asleep each night: “I hope my roommates locked our main door… I hope my bedroom door can withstand a serial killer attack…”). Now, nine months later, they close. Some of them don’t open anymore, but, hey, it’s a start.