When you help someone up a hill, you get that much closer to the top yourself. -Anonymous

Sam Orme, 2006-2007


Despite what you might think, I wasn’t always omniscient. No, there was a time that I wasn’t even aware that the 100 Hour Board existed, nor did I realize what eerie powers it would grant me. One day, after having frittered away the devotional hour on the library computers, I came across a friend who was reading that day’s posts. He showed me what he was reading, and I was intrigued. I asked a question that had been on my mind for years (about BYU recycling) and received a well-researched and thoughtful answer.

And like that, I was hooked.

I started reading each day’s posts faithfully, cursing the days when there were no updates. And when the unexpected end of a relationship found me with a surplus of time on my hands in the summer of 2005, I decided to read through the archives from the beginning to see what I had missed. (It sounds more daunting than it was. At that point, the archives only went back to 2002 or so.) While reading through the archives, I came across the mysterious secret of how to join the Board. “Why not,” I thought to myself. “It’s not as though I have anything else eating up my time.” So I applied, and I got an application back in a couple of days. I filled it out, and within a week, they brought me on board. (Ha, he says. On “Board.” So clever.)


Once I was on the staff, a whole new world opened up to me. So many questions! And I, a newly-omniscient being, knew the answers to all of them! I cranked out 25-30 answers a week for a while, wowing my comrades and earning me dozens of fans. These fans really enjoyed my writing, to the point that some of the readers of the female persuasion found me attractive. Having received more than a few dating/marriage proposals, I put together a simple Word document, uploaded it to the Board server, and announced that I had a dating application for any who were interested.

Oh, the regret.

Nowadays, dating applications for Board writers are cliché. It was novel and original when I wrote mine, trust me. But there are times when I regret having spawned the “date me” monster on the Board. It’s not all bad, though. I received quite a few applications, and though some were a bit scary (tip for readers: if you actually want to date a writer, it’s best not to be too forward in an application) (second tip for readers: if you actually want to date a writer, it’s best to meet them in person before you start obsessing too much over them), one of them actually turned out to be my future wife. Exciting.


With the looming departures of Duchess and Pa Grape, someone had to step up and fill the void. The editors took a straw poll among the writers and asked who we thought would do the best job. I made my suggestions (I can’t even recall who they were anymore), but mine ended up being the only dissenting vote. Every other writer voted to cast me into the gaping jaws of editorhood. Though it wasn’t something I was looking to do, I decided to go for it. After all, how difficult could it be?

Answer: it’s an awful lot of work. More than you might think.

I got to oversee the transition to a new home, NewsNet, and saw dozens of new writers join our ranks. I also helped create a new application system (with cloaks! and daggers!) and helped to create a new community feeling with our Board parties. (Not that the old Board parties were bad, but these definitely created a new atmosphere.)

All was well, with one small exception. I was tired. Tired and stressed. Being an editor took quite a bit out of me. I enjoyed what I was doing and the results I was seeing, but it was time to let it go. So about the same time that I graduated, I stepped down and forced Yellow into indentured servitude as an editor. He’s better at it than I am, anyway.

And that’s it. Now you know the story. Go tell your friends. Wow and regale them with the mountain of facts at your disposal. Or whatever.