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There may be a covert
conspiracy whispered in the offices of Davis Hall and spreading to cover the entire
UTA campus; these clandestine policies began with increased hours for the Activities
Building, went on to replace the Burger King with a Chik-Fil-A, and now culminate in the
nefarious brilliance of "Operation: No New Desks." Here is the previously undisclosed truth
of the scandal as I imagine it.
Administration knew the budget cuts were coming and student
enrollment was rising. The dreaded 'Freshman 15' afflicted vaster numbers of students
than ever before. Soon, it was feared, a majority of students would no longer fit into
the desks, there would be no money for new desks, and what would they do?
They took drastic measures to put an end to this weight gain.
Using special slush funds, the administration purchased a
large number of old cars, most of which do not even run. During the day they
fill the nearby parking lots, and at night they are hauled to a secret holding facility
where the inner contents - a few cleverly 'studentish' items such as books, Power Bar
wrappers, and stacks of parking citations - are moved around before the cars are hauled
back in the morning. In an alliance with the South Dakotans, who agreed to allow UTA students
to park by their driveways, they ensured that students would have to walk at least 847
miles each morning in order to park. North Dakotans were not contacted but are typically a
greeable on busy days.
Next, they cut a deal with backpack manufacturers, who now
produce backpacks with a special material that gains weight when it reacts with a special
kind of ink now used on textbook covers. A new requirement was enacted on these specially-inked
books, which states that the texts must possess a certain poundage. The pounds must
exponentially increase depending on the number of classes a student is enrolled in.
Authors must repeat the same information in slightly modified ways until they reach a
certain page length to satisfy the weight requirement.
As a result, students must carry a bag (not weighing less than 242 lbs.)
on their daily cross-country parking trek, and then run 18 blocks across campus for their
next classes. The class locations are carefully arranged, according to students' projected
schedules, so that the highest possible number of students must cross Cooper Street at least
12 times a day, even if they only have two classes. Professors are also directed to begin
class a few minutes early, to end a few minutes late, and to frown strongly on tardiness.
This also encourages running from building to building with aforementioned quarter-ton backpack.
Every weekend, any working clocks on campus are meticulously re-calibrated, to be sure that none
of them coincide and display the same time.
They also tampered with campus-wide vending machines; the machines steal
three out of every four dollars, and on the fourth they put out the healthiest item rather
than the marshmallow-caramel-fudge bar the student selected. The stalest fruit and nut
granola bars are kept at the front of the racks to encourage students to throw even this
away and simply not eat from the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 8:20 p.m.
Why all of these measures, you may well ask? Desk replacement is
clearly expensive. Take a look at parking permits - they are only a few inches of plastic,
yet based on the cost to students, they cost at least $64.50 to produce. Think how much
it would cost to replace an entire desk! For this reason, these are the same desks that
students sat in during the Boston Tea Party (although food and drink was still not permitted
in class) and it shows how highly they would have to raise student fees in order to replace
the desks (a low-end estimate is $1,240.67 per student).
Fellow student, when you get out of your parked car and
the first person you see wears ear muffs and says "Eh?" at the end of each sentence,
count yourself lucky. The university only has your best interest in mind.
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