Swiper, no swiping

It wasn’t until I took another sip of that caffeine-charged, steaming, foamy nectar that I was struck by revelation. It didn’t take too much math to gather that the $3.35 worth of coffee preparing to pump life into my tired brain had probably just increased the disputed $67 charge to an unfortunate $70.35.

What can I say? I like coffee. But moreover, I need coffee. The first step, I’ve been told, is admitting the problem, and, now that I owe my mom a substantial $67 that I do not have, I can definitely say, “Houston, we have a problem.” But when I can barely keep my eyes open and a coffee is just a swipe of my TigerCard away, I can’t resist the draw of instant satisfaction. Late nights, early mornings, long papers — they’re all fueled by espresso-rich sustenance. And that sustenance is fueled by my steadily dwindling funds.

The problem wasn’t exactly noteworthy until I mentioned the conversation and subsequent revelation with my roommate who threw her hands in the air as she exclaimed, “$67! That’s nothing! My mom is freaking out about last month’s $300 charge for coffee!” Let me repeat that. Three. Hundred. Dollars. “Chels, that’s the price of a plane ticket home,” said my So Cal-bred roommate.

The fact of the matter is that coffee is too easy a purchase when it comes to our TigerCards. A $3 swipe here. A $3 swipe there. And all of a sudden, you’re down $300. If coffee is not your vice, how about Frist pizza or quesadillas or whatever it is that keeps you going? It’s all just a swipe away. No one carries cash; therefore, there’s no such thing as an empty wallet to curb your spending. During those late nights, whether in preparation for a paper-writing marathon or during a post-Street famine, there seems to be an endless supply of invisible cash at your disposal. Hence, we lose track of all those little, slowly accumulating purchases.

Of course, I’m not ignorant of the fact that there are students who aren’t exactly stretching to pay a $67 bill, whose bank accounts have a deeper bottom than my own. However, there seems to be a general mindset that those little purchases are no big deal, as if we’ve all got money being funneled our way. How many times have I met someone over coffee? Plenty. And how many times have I turned down a coffee date for fear of spending money? Not once. In all honesty, the money part rarely, if ever, occurs to me. It’d be just as easy to meet over a pre-paid meal in the dining hall, but the norm, instead, seems to be meetings requiring a few-dollar swipe. Maybe the “let’s get coffee” vibe isn’t the case throughout campus but it’s certainly the case for me.

This, of course, is the same trouble as having a credit card and the same habit that puts people in debt. The concept is not solely a Princeton problem. The difference is that back home the bills were coming directly to me in the mail. It was a lot easier to keep tabs on the charged expenses that were coming out of my summer-job salary. My TigerCard purchases, on the other hand, go to an account that’s not my own, and thus keeping track of the little expenses isn’t exactly at the top of my to-do list. That being said, in a school with a myriad of financial situations, this may not be the case for everyone, but — at least for my roommate and myself — our TigerCard abuse managed to escape our attention until now. I’ve realized — and have been told quite firmly by my less-than-pleased mother — that my rampant TigerCard spending has got to stop.

I’m fortunate enough that $67 isn’t going to run my finances into the ground, but it is enough to warrant some change, as I’m coming up on the last of the money I made this summer. I’ve got better things to do with that money than feed my coffee cravings. The dining halls offer free coffee for a reason. There are late meals and study breaks and plenty of other opportunities for free food. If I take advantage of these, then a cappuccino every once in a while won’t be a necessity but a treat. The idea is to cut back, keep track and avoid that $300 bill; or worse, another angry text from my mother — that alone makes it worth it.

Chelsea Jones is a freshman from Ridgefield, Conn. She can be reached at chelseaj@princeton.edu.