Could you say what your porters look like or what their names are? Or, perhaps, where they live, what do they like or if they have a family?

I expect the majority of students at Cambridge could not, and prior to writing this article neither could I.

Put simply, the fact is that we use and abuse our porters. Porters have become such a permanent part of college life that they go unnoticed – they are merely ‘those Plodge people’ who contribute to the functioning of the college. They are our fairy godmothers who will turn up to save the day and provide a key when we accidentally get locked out of our room, or magically appear in a flash of luminous yellow Hi-Vis, daring heroically to go into the steaming showers or toast-burnt kitchens of college in the middle of the night.

And what do we give them in return? At best, a hesitant smile or fleeting wave is all we spare to even acknowledge their existence.

The prominent belief is that their purpose in life is to sort post, answer questions and generally be there to make our lives easier. To us they are, as in their definition, merely ‘people who are employed to carry luggage and other loads, especially in hotels, markets or airports’. But what about in universities? This could hardly be more degrading: it is as if porters have become a separate species, different to the students and visitors who pass by them every day. This is sickening.

Many people think of them, it could be said, as digestive biscuits: always the ones left in the tin, going slightly stale, rather boring and plain – but there, all the time. After I’d been at Cambridge for a while, I too came under the spell of the same school-girl assumption I’d made with teachers: that they did not have a life outside their job.

This all changed for me when I saw one of my Porters at Sainsbury’s. No longer was he the digestive biscuit man I saw from chest upwards – but a Jammy Dodger! I realised that he, sporting Doc Martens and a leather jacket, and buying ‘Taste the Difference’ sausages, was just like every other man, and had a life; had a story. I saw another of my Porters busily strapping a small child into the back seat of a car which was littered with empty crisp packets and Fruitshoots and again this opened my eyes to the fact that Porters lead not just any lives, but busy lives just like us. They have other priorities, friends, families, commitments and mad schedules – just like us.

So, reader, I implore you: stop, look and listen to your Porter. Maybe stay and chat or take them a cup of tea (Go on, I dare you; this will truly make a difference!). It is the little things in life like this that make people feel valued, and our Porters, who invest so much time and effort into ensuring our lives run smoothly, deserve this fair treatment and even more.

A quote, from one of my favourite movies, comes to mind.

“There is something you should understand about the way I work. When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go. It's rather sad, really, but there it is.”

We need to start treating our Porters fairly before it is too late. We need them and want them, so let’s not lose them.