Monday afternoon, the coldest it ever is, is in an ice rink. I’m wrapped in flannel and toting the trash bin through the concrete hallway of the Berry Events Center. Other than the Zamboni drivers and my fellow student ice maintenance workers, I know the ice rink better than anyone after a year of employment here—there’s not a nook or cranny I haven’t swept, vacuumed or taken shortcuts through.

I’m quite fond of the building where I spend, at minimum, ten hours per week (more than any classroom). A chilly but pleasant rink, just past her quarter-centennial. That is why I am in dismay when we open the door to a suite to find that, yes, someone has left all their half-empty beer cans in here, along with their souvenir popcorn buckets, a tub of nacho cheese with chips still stuck in it and trash on the floor next to the bin.

“No respect for the Berry,” I say solemnly, pulling out some extra trash bags. My coworkers agree, but you know, we’re used to it.

I am not here to moralize to you about having pride in your school, or having the same kind of love for buildings that I do, or anything like that. I’m here to remind you that the people who clean the Berry are your fellow students, and more importantly, fellow people. Janitorial work this past year has taught me that most people think that their mess cleans itself up.

Berry aside, there’s very little respect for the people who keep this school humming along by cleaning every inch of it, often invisible even when they’re right in front of you. Some of these people are full-time janitors, whose work I could never hope to match, and whose physically demanding labor is the bedrock of society.

Others are students who, after long days of classes, homework and extra-curriculars, spend their extra hours (often the oddest of hours—student custodian jobs frequently ask for 5am clock-in times, Berry student attendants stay over an hour after games end) keeping campus looking nice. I am here to remind you that there are people, whose backs hurt and who have quite a lot else to do on top of this, cleaning up after you. It’s not hard to make their jobs a little easier.

I bring the Berry front and center, not just because it’s my favorite building on campus and my workplace, but because the Berry sells alcohol. For ten years, hockey fans 21 and up can get a wristband and drink with small amount of supervision. This makes up for a lot of the revenue that is generated from the Berry concessions. It also means my coworkers and I spend a lot of time cleaning up beer cans, cleaning up beer spills and cleaning my hoodies and jeans that have stale beer on them.

After this year’s Red Wings alumni game, at which I served as ice attendant, cleaner and reporter, I was confounded by the state of the suites and bleachers. The mere two minutes it takes each person to tidy up their trash after games compounds, and it saves a lot of trouble from the small student crew at the Berry that already arrives hours prior to the games to set the rink up.

Hockey season is upon us, and nobody is more excited than me to be back in the Berry watching the Wildcats battle it out, but when you guys settle in for a hockey game this year, take a moment to remember that the messes you might make will be cleaned up by tired students who often have to stay an hour past the game, and then spend much of the following week keeping the building in shape. And for goodness’ sakes, don’t leave your souvenir popcorn buckets in the suite, the refills on those are $1.