Sure, you can graduate me, Princeton, but you can’t just dump me like some empty box of Fruit Roll-Ups. We spent four long, happy years together! What were you gonna do, send me off to find a job, buy a family, thug it out, as if this never happened between us? Ooooooh no. We’re talking the Class of 2009, fool. You don’t even know.
It’s not what you think. I’m not going to be one of those alums who rolls back to campus too often, creepily reappearing at Tuesday lunch and Winter Formals, pretending to fit in with younger friends who judge me for not moving on. I will remain an integral part of this campus. And I’m hoping you’ll help me figure out how.
I have a few ideas. (No, they do not involve the Honor Committee or arson.) For one, I’m thinking of becoming a Public Safety officer. I’d get health benefits, a regular paycheck and probably one or two cases to solve per year. I could spend my days aimlessly zipping around campus on my Segway, eating powdered WaWa donuts and issuing arbitrary parking tickets just for funsies. By night, I would bust your party (and take names), nab your booze and then drink it with the hot forensics chick back at HQ — all while collecting overtime. But the best part is, I’d really just be working as a mole for you guys. I could tip you off about unpleasant mystery fumes faster than you can say “campus text messaging system.” And all I’d ask for in return is some hangout time and a free Whitman brunch now and then.
Then again, I’m terrible at leading double lives. Nobody even believed my Ninja Turtles costume last Halloween. I would definitely slip up at some point, leaving me back at four squares. Fortunately, I’ve discovered another job to keep me on campus — and no matter how many times I screw this one up, there is no way I can ever be fired. Yes, you guessed it: I’m going to be president of the USG.
Jealous much? While you’re stuck going to class, I’ll live it up in my newly renovated private office. I’ll hobnob with the hoity toities and sprinkle with the spranklies at Prospect House. Personal credit for bettering lives? Check. USG credit card? Double check. When I walk into a room, people will applaud my selflessness. When I leave, they will cry. I will launder student money like nobody’s business — and it’ll be nobody’s business how I spend it, either. (By the way, I’ll spend it on myself, in case that wasn’t clear.)
How will I reach such pinnacles of power? Well, just between you and me, I suspect the USG elections system may not be 100 percent functional. If even the omniscient Registrar can’t figure out how to read a computer printout, then I should be able to commit massive fraud. I will march into the USG office and present a crayon-forged Certificate of Presidential Substitution, signed by Dean Done. Nobody will be the wiser. (Except for the current USG President, who will probably be quite upset. I’ll just exile him to the Pace Center.)
Unfortunately, my time as dictator would still be limited, and soon enough I’d find myself back on the streets. To avoid this, I’ve hit upon the best scheme of all: I am going to become Skipper. You know, Skipper, Dean Malkiel’s dog. Yeah, the little one she carries around in her handbag. Exactly. Well, as soon as I don my Skipper suit, I’ll have a front-row ticket to all the administration’s confidentialest plans and a way to stay at Princeton for years. Of course, there will be some logistical issues to work out, like offing the existing poodle and buying Malkiel a bigger bag. But that’s nothing compared to the leverage I’ll be able to exert on behalf of my fellow students. Build another residential college? Growwwwwl. More free T-shirts? Arf!
At night, I’ll take off my costume and sneak out to see all of you. We’ll chill, grab a brewski and relive our days in college — because we’ll all still be here. And even though this is my last column, don’t be sad. This isn’t goodbye. Come September, I’ll be trolling the comments section of the ‘Prince’ website, harassing sensitive people from Malkiel’s BlackBerry just a few hundred yards from your dorm.
Of course, even this plan isn’t foolproof (how will I go to the bathroom?), so keep brainstorming. If you need to reach me, I’ll be spending the summer hiding in Cannon Club.
Matt Kandel is an economics major from Boca Raton, Fla. He can be reached at mkandel@princeton.edu.
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