As the semester crawls its way to a close, gasping over the finish line like an asthmatic fish out-of-water with pneumonia, lots of students find themselves with a plethora of loose ends to tie up. A common problem that many are suffering from is the horrid discovery that their meal plan was excessive to the extreme, leaving them with a mountain of meal swipes and dining dollars left to rot in the putrid sun.
For freshman Dorf Monroe, this was an issue she thought had an obvious solution. Unfortunately, events didn’t align themselves as perfectly as she had planned.
As Monroe wistfully remembers, “I was staring along placidly into space, sitting underneath the TV at Third North as the local news rang hauntingly into my ear-holes, when I noticed someone using dining dollars to purchase a meal in place of a swipe, which was not something I realized you could even do. So, naturally, I came up with a new idea.”
Monroe had to pause here, as the pure embarrassment of the subsequent events caused a bevy of uncontrollable shivers to sweep through the room, an actualization of the mortification caused by the incident.
“So, I went to a Duane Reade’s, picked up sixteen bottles of black liquorice-flavoured soda, and proudly held up my student ID for payment. And, boy, the look on the cashier’s face. It was, like, less than understanding.”
Despite the disastrous failure of Monroe’s endeavour, she continues to search for a use for the excesses of her meal plan, especially because, among other reasons, it’s becoming hazardous to her health.
“I’ve eaten five meals and bought seven lattes a day for the past month. How is it even possible that I have 90 meals left? That’s not the type of math my Calc class taught me! What am I even supposed to do with all of these!”
Monroe was dismissive when told that she could donate the meals.
“Come on, you know whoever I give it to would just spend those swipes on booze and drugs.”
She still might not have fully grasped the concept.
Like booze before noon? So do these guys…