We at Off the Press pride ourselves on being up-to-date on all of the goings-on here at Stevens, which is why we are all so disappointed that no one told us about this major news story. Apparently, Peer Leaders from as far back as last fall still have not been paid for their work by the school. This is a blatant disregard of student workers, which is why we are extra miffed that no one decided to tell us about it earlier. While not technically “news,” given that this happened last year, as of yet these leaders have still not seen a single dollar for their hard work, and as a result we felt justified talking about this now.
Now, dear readers, believe us when we tell you that we were as surprised as you most certainly are when we heard the news: Stevens, our beloved and cherished institution, doing something wrong? We were truly baffled. However, after a lengthy investigation into the inner workings of Stevens and interviews with relevant parties, Off the Press is finally ready to delve into this story with our usual gusto.
We hit an almost immediate roadblock in actually finding anyone who would talk to us about the incident. When we politely asked a number of Peer Leaders to tell their stories, the overwhelming majority of them refused to comment, citing “They’re always watching” as their excuse. When one Peer Leader was about to tell us something, a swarm of large men in suits and sunglasses streamed out of a nearby van and carried off the screaming Leader before they could get any words out. The reporter conducting the interview barely escaped capture by hiding behind their clipboard and pretending to be an oddly-realistic statue.
However, one brave soul risked life and limb to tell us their story. As of the time of writing, the ex-Peer Leader in question has already joined the Witness Protection Program to protect them from the wrath of Stevens. Currently they are starting their new life under their new secret identity, Pierre Leeder. Their voice has been modulated for their protection. “It was horrible, man,” said the ex-PL. “We had to pretend to like the Duck Dance! Without even getting paid! Do you realize how difficult that was? I had to look those poor little freshmen in the eyes and tell them that it was fun. And they believed me!” The student then broke down into tears for half an hour while our reporter patted their back comfortingly. “Then, when I asked to get paid,” the PL continued after blowing their nose into a Stevens-branded handkerchief, “They laughed in my face! Said that I should be glad to do my part for the school! And when I insisted, they set Attila on me! Did you know he has teeth? They retract into his bill when he’s not using them, but they’re there! He nearly ripped my arm off!”
When directly confronted by a reporter, a Stevens official said, “How do you know about that? Who told you? It was fucking Jeremy, wasn’t it? It was, I can see it in your eyes. Oh, he is so dead.” The official then spoke ominously into a walkie-talkie for several minutes while giving our reporter a “glare from the pits of Hell.”
In a press conference given by the school, administrators gave their explanation for the lack of payment. “It wasn’t our fault, guys,” said a beleaguered official in an increasingly desperate tone. “All of the money goes through the Orientation Committee first, and they distribute it to all of the Peer Leaders.” When asked what happened to the money after the committee received it, the official shouted, “I don’t know! Maybe the hacker had something to do with it, I guess. That’s what we’re supposed to say when something bad happens. Yeah, probably the hacker. Now, go away!”
Off the Press now had a new target: the Orientation Committee, the group in charge of the PLs and their payment. In hindsight, we probably should have gone to them first, but we got there in the end. When our reporters confronted them, the five members of the committee were busy lounging in their private pool on top of Howe, sipping piña coladas using straws that had objectively too many twists. When asked about the payment controversy, all of the committee members looked shocked. “How could this have happened?” asked the chair of the committee as she peeled the cucumber slices off her eyes. “I checked the finances myself! Ooh, butler, hand me another drink, will you? There’s a good lad. But those poor Peer Leaders! This is a disaster!” The entire committee then shook their collective heads in wonderment as to how this mess could have occurred as they boarded their solid-gold helicopter and flew off the roof.
While our finance division, Off Budget, is still crunching the numbers, we can only guess at the amount of money that the Peer Leaders collectively lost despite their value to the school. This entire situation is a classic tale of fiscal mismanagement; however, it is an even larger testament to the role of the public in journalism, as, and we cannot stress this enough, no one told us about this story until very recently and we are still kind of angry about it. Come on guys, I thought we were friends!
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