Art by Christopher Chen
It’s mostly the stairs that people complain about when the CCB is brought up. But we aren’t here to talk about the stairs. After all, they’re stairs. How much can you really do to change that? Now, we’re talking about the other quirks of the CCB, which, while sometimes lovable, can make it a puzzling place to take classes.
Everyone finds themselves in the CCB at one point or another, whether it’s fulfilling GE requirements, getting off at the wrong shuttle stop, or simply hanging out with the Graphic staff in the newsroom. It is the land of a Caf that should probably not count as a source of nourishment, air conditioning even when it’s 50 degrees outside and chairs that refuse to go up or down.
First, the CCB caf is actually called Cafe Fresca, though hardly anyone seems to know it. Students, weary from hunger after braving the miles of stairs up to the Center for Communication and Business, are met with food options that include power bars, coffee that tastes suspiciously like dirt and occasionally a slightly aged La Brea sandwich.
“I can’t wait to grab lunch at the CCB,” said no one ever. It is a food option used by students solely out of necessity and in desperate need of upgrading.
Not only is the selection lacking, but the hours of the CCB food nook are constantly in question. Cafe Fresca’s hours are questionably limited considering the amount of night classes offered at Pepperdine. It doesn’t open until 8:30 a.m., which means that those with 8 a.m. classes must suffer through the early morning hours without breakfast. As Cafe Fresca closes at 6 p.m., those in evening CCB classes live a hungry nocturnal existence during their late-night classes.
For the students who have yet to take COM 180 and step foot into this high-altitude building, you won’t know what we’re talking about. Let us enlighten you. On the second floor of the CCB (there are three), there are glass doors which, for all intents and purposes, should be operable. And yet, they are a fire exit. A faulty fire exit. The CCB frequenters know the way around this — simply use the door that is more often than not propped open with a sandbag. (And while we are on it, why all the sandbags?) When the door is closed, you merely have to cheat the system and turn the lock that is meant to confound all.
The CCB gods that be, however, have found recent enjoyment in setting off the same door alarm that, up to this point, we all believed was a myth. And as charming as it is to have your eardrums damaged by pure mockery, I think we can all agree that a decent solution would be to make the doors free to use for all.
If our third conundrum was an Agatha Christie book, it would be titled, “The Mystery of the CCB Arctic.” Having regular classes in the Communication and Business building requires a full length snow parka. The A/C runs constantly. Rainy day? A/C. Fifty-five degrees? A/C.
To any person who has ever been in the CCB late at night studying, practicing for Songfest or attending one of the other meetings held in these chilly halls, the struggle of lighting is familiar and frustrating. At some point someone made the executive decision that light switches were outdated and should be replaced with buttons that require constant attention to maintain lighting. It’s like the building is telling you to leave once it starts flickering the lights.
Furthermore, the most treacherous part of this endeavor is using the restroom in a building-induced blackout. The bathrooms look like a scene from a horror movie and lack any light switches to save restroom-goers from the creatures of the dark.
Lastly, sitting in a chair, a task which should be quite simple, somehow becomes complicated in the CCB. Approximately 99 of every 100 chairs available in this building (you know the gray office chairs we mean) are maddeningly low. The result is a class full of adults sitting in chairs the height of preschool art seats while trying to take notes or listen to a lecture. Urban legend says that these chairs can be fixed, but evidence has yet to confirm such capabilities from these inconvenient recliners.
The CCB experience is like a montage of odd and off-putting struggles. It’s simply a confusing place to spend any large amount of time. Nearly every Pepperdine student will have at least one class in this building up in the clouds, if even just for their obligatory COM 180 experience. However, one question remains: What is up with the CCB?
_______________
Follow the Pepperdine Graphic on Twitter: @PeppGraphic
