My University Alumni Donations Gestapo

Did you attend University with me? Then you know exactly what I’m talking about right now! Apparently, there is a push for donations by the new president. I was contacted initially 3 weeks ago. Apparently I’m on their list of Alumni who “makes a significant salary and doesn’t live at home with his parents working as a substitute teacher.” This means, they will not rest until my donation is served.

So last week, I picked up the phone call. The number is recognizable. I was enraged. It was dinner time and yes, I was just sitting down to eat. I was ready to lay into the person, but it was a naïve, sweet, broken English speaking Asian girl. She was very nice and obviously was having the time of her life at my former school. Her experience there will be very different from the many thousands who suffered like I had. She will be consumed with her studies, b/c that’s all she will seek…the academic life.

Unfortunately, there is more to life than that. When you have dreams outside of grad school, you are fucked.

I listened to her spiel. It was well written by some slob of a secretary in the administration office. She wanted to know if I had met the new president…I dunno, I’ve heard he’s a good guy. I mean, he didn’t say the school name wrong in his inauguration speech like our last school president.

I respectfully declined by using my upcoming move as an excuse. Well, apparently, that no was not resolute enough. They have called every nite this week. I’m waiting for another call, again. Do I pick up? Did they sick the genius, super seller on me? Maybe I should pick up, b/c holy shit, if it’s a school employee…LOOSE!

What I want to say is, your glorified boarding school is terrible. It was a massive disappointment. I suffered there. I withered there. I became something I hate and it almost cost me my life and future. Yes, some of it was my fault. I was forced to attend by my parents for scholarship reasons, but I could have dropped out and been a whore. I could have chosen to isolate myself and been a geek. I could have quit baseball so I wouldn’t have to play for deranged no nothings that made you hate the game. I could have transferred and continued to be lost, but hey, at least I’d be entertained elsewhere.

That wretched place isn’t completely at fault, but the environment there is not conducive for success, especially for normal people with normal vices who feel despaired, trapped, and unchallenged, yet overmatched by the compulsive academia push. Not to mention, the location was perfect for developing an alcohol addiction. I guess I got consumed, but for whatever the reason, that fuckin place isn’t receiving a dime of my cash! I spent the best days of my life in a hole.