Finding the Wayfinder's way

It's not uncommon to find a visitor looking puzzled in front of the big campus map near my building, so I do what I always do: approach with a smile and ask if I can help him find anything. He says no, he's not lost--in fact, he's a Wayfinding Consultant studying the ways people find their way around our campus, and he asks me what I think of the map.

As it happens, I've complained about our campus maps for ages, both on Faculty Council and directly into the President's ear. I'm frequently in a position to help visitors understand the map, which presents a bird's-eye view of buildings generally encountered at street level; the map further disorients visitors by presenting brick buildings as purple, yellow, or blue blocks. Nothing on our campus looks remotely like a big purple rectangle, so it's easy to see why visitors might get confused.

This problem is so obvious that our Wayfinder doesn't even bother to write it down, but he does write down the other complaint I offer: visitors come into my building, Thomas Hall, thinking that it's Andrews Hall, three buildings down the mall. Why? Because the sign posted on Thomas Hall gives the full name of the person for whom it is named: Andrew U. Thomas. If you're looking for Andrews Hall and you see a sign saying Andrew, you could be forgiven for thinking you've found the right place.

"Interesting," says the Wayfinding Consultant, scribbling in his notebook. I wonder what it takes to become a Wayfinding Consultant and how much we're paying for that expertise? And I wonder whether he'll be able to convince the Powers That Be to take action to remedy problems we've endured for ages? My occasional complaints accomplish exactly nothing, but if a highly paid Wayfinding Consultant identifies the same problems, someone with the power to act is bound to listen. 

Oh, to be a Wayfinding Consultant!
He walks around following maps
and interpreting signs. His resultant
report will reveal all the gaps

in our signage, suggesting improvements
and shining a light in the dark
so that visitors' campus-wide movements
will lead straightaway toward the mark.

But our signage, I fear, is so faulty--
if the Wayfinder randomly roams
and gets lost, then whose will the call be 
to find the Wayfinder's way home?