When the college cash cow runs dry
Have you ever noticed anytime you’re up against a deadline, that’s when all you-know-what breaks loose? It happened to us a couple weeks ago. Our column was due in 20 minutes, and we were still debating what to write about while the nice Microsoft guy used his remote access doo-hickey to “fix” our computer and somebody was pounding on the front door just as the phone started ringing. Sheesh!
Everybody thinks we’ve got nothing to do.
Well, the guy who called wanted to make the biggest radio advertising buy we’d ever seen, so we dropped everything to crunch the numbers, only to find out his budget barely covered 10 seconds worth at 2:53 on a Sunday morning. And that’s when the email marked “urgent” arrived, demanding we drop everything and produce an ad for the ballgame broadcast that was only an hour away. So off we scurried to our recording studio in the basement of the library across town, don’t you know — right next to the children’s section — and darned if scores of little tykes didn’t spend the next 12 hours pulling Boss Dog’s ears and yanking his tail while incessantly shrieking “doggie” in voices so shrill they shattered wine glasses a hundred miles away and made recording that ad a downright impossibility. What a nightmare. And we weren’t anywhere near Elm Street. Fortunately, it finally came to an end.
When the alarm clock went off and jolted us wide awake.
Let that be a lesson. Never ever eat a pepperoni and sausage pizza a half-hour before bedtime. For much like Scrooge’s undigested bit of beef, it really messes with REM sleep. But while dreamland may be top-ranked on the list of places where nightmares occur, there’s a newcomer nipping at its heels and poised to become the new No. 1.
University of Notre Dame.
It’s true. This past Monday, they pulled the plug on retail cash transactions at their campus food service locations, dining halls, concession stands and laundromats, meaning all the little leprechauns — whether newly enrolled or returning upperclassmen — who dare to show up in South Bend bearing either pots of gold or stacks of greenbacks quickly become known by one of two Delta Tau Chi nicknames. Not Mothball and Weasel.
But Starving and Stinky.
But things like that don’t matter to Notre Dame’s associate vice president for finance and treasury services. Between eliminating security risks and eradicating campus illnesses he hasn’t been this excited since the last time he saw a water tower. After all, banning coins and bills are how you prevent coming down with COVID and scores of other communicable diseases — including the worst one of all.
Cooties.
But it’s a different story if you want to make a donation at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart or the Grotto. Then cash leaves them totally geeked.
But Notre Dame’s not the only one ditching real money. So are North Carolina State, Vanderbilt, University of Tennessee-Knoxville, Suffolk and Miami (Ohio). Even Grand Valley State and Lansing Community College are also following suit — closing their cashier desks and nixing cash payments on student accounts this fall. All because — and they say this with a straight face — that’s how you improve the student experience. Good thing we’re not in college anymore. If they ever tried to pull that kind of stunt with us, we’d have taken the 10,000 marbles we were going to scatter at the homecoming parade and improved our student experience out of there so fast their heads would spin. Where would we go? Clinton, of course.
We hear they pay cash for just about everything there.
Talk Back with Doug Spade and Mike Clement is heard every Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon Eastern Time on Buzz 102.5 FM and online at www.dougspade.com and www.lenconnect.com.
This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Talk Back: When the college cash cow runs dry
