I hope this letter does not fall on deaf ears.
But apparently, each time I tell you to remove my name off your list, nobody seems to listen.
So here we go.
I’d like to thank you for your recent telephone inquiry on whether or not I would be interested in donating any denomination of money to my former institution of higher education.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to contribute this time around, or any time in the near future.
I get it; higher education is more than just monetary value.
Well, except when the price tag for tuition is more than three arms, six legs, your unborn child, and childhood pet. Couple that with the fact that most students will be paying off the loans taken out, just to attend said university, until they are old enough to run for president, and then higher education is about the monetary value.
Please forgive me if this sounds rather short. I don’t mean to be rude. I am currently stressed about paying my rent, budgeting for groceries, and figuring out how to have an active social life on a miniscule salary.
I simply cannot commit to giving my money at this time.
I can, however, provide you with multiple instances over the course of my stay that conclusively clarify my budgetary commitment to the institution that taught me so much more than how to shotgun a beer in ten seconds or that I have a serious issues with self-control around all-you-can-eat buffets.
For four years, I donated to this university when I purchased countless supportive sporting event tickets. When concerts or special events came to campus, I paid to attend.
Freshman year my RA decided my floor-to-ceiling denim blackout curtains were not only atrocious, but a fire hazard; and instead of admitting I was fined for fashion faux pas, I considered it a mandatory donation.
Every time I walked into the school store to buy a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, or a hat to represent school spirit, I donated and subsequently advertised. Because, in case I didn’t mention, I’m a local celebrity, and what I wear makes mad buzz ripples around the hometown circuits.
When I finally completed all my degree requirements, I donated when I bought my cap and gown, and again when I wanted copies of my transcripts. I paid to wear a black, cloth trash bag.
I just simply cannot commit to giving any more of my money at this time.
Maybe when I am older, I’ll have finished paying off my loans, and established myself in my career. Maybe I will have more of a disposable income to allocate such funds towards the school that did not really do much to help me get a job upon graduation.
Or maybe I’ll just be saving up to put my kids through school.
All so you can call them after graduation and ask if they’d like to donate any of their money to the institution that will give them the brightest future and the most hope.
PS – I’m sorry I hung up on you after your introductory sentence. That was rude and I am sorry.
Anyone Who Has Ever Graduated Or Attempted To Graduate College But Is Too Poor To Give Back Or Too Cynical To Care
An Open Letter To My Alma Mater,