"Wait a minute, Jerry," I said as we walked under the West Engineering arch and continued towards the Diag. "You know someone with an M-Card who likes it in every way?"
"Yes, I do. I don't know why, though. How could anyone like it after they've been forcing people to get the damn thing?" replied Jerry with a sneer.
"Yeah, really. I mean, who would ever want to get that M-Card? The M-Card is such a pain in the ass, that goddamned, worthless ..." I started to say.
He joined in with me as we gleefully continued walking, loudly chanting. "one bad motherfu--"
"Shut your mouth!" came a snarl from the other side of the Diag as we walked over the sacred "M" that shining beacon of hope on the Diag that, according to legend, would mercilessly crush you if you dared tread on it, or get out of line within 30 miles of campus.
"Just talking about the M-Card," we called back to the DPS officer. Unfortunately, we ran into one of those annoying policemen who feel that they are the law, that the Bill of Rights means nothing, and tain't no one gonna mess with his Diag.
Jerry and I were stomping on the "M" and I was trying to get the gum on my shoe to stick to the part of the M where it says "All Rights Reserved" and Jerry was going off on some wacko trip of his. "DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!" he kept shouting with an evil grin on his face, slamming the heel of his boot into the engraving of the oil lamp. "Veritas my ass!"
"Excuse me, there, gentlemen! I'm afraid I'm going to need to see some ID." said the DPS officer, brandishing his nightstick.
"You don't need to see our ID, you...uuugggghhh!" Jerry cried as the policeman hit him twice on the head with his nightstick. Jerry fell to the ground and moaned.
"I'll be damned ..." said the DPS officer. "Did you see that, Bill? That kid tripped into my nightstick!"
"Tripped? I didn't bloody trip, you ..." Jerry groaned as the DPS officer pushed his head onto the ground.
"Identification, gentlemen. Do you know why we stopped you?"
"You ran out of tickets to give to parked bicycles?"
"No! You violated Code Article...hmmm....ah, here it is: 95-MCA-UM1138. Well, well, well. Disrupting the peace! There are women and children present, you can't talk that way in a public place, even if it means we have to invoke a 19th century public statute!"
Jerry and I looked around. The only people we saw were about forty disinterested people playing Frisbee and playing bad renditions of Buffalo Springfield songs. The only person who was even remotely concerned was the man videotaping the DPS officers at every turn. Not even the proseltyzing preacher was interested; he was too busy rattling off Ezekiel 25:17.
"But there isn't any harm being done ..."
"Shut up!" The DPS man took our IDs and examined them closely.
"Well, now. You don't have M-Cards!"
"And?"
"You must have an M-Card! Didn't you see the public notice put up? By fall 1995, all students willhave the M-Card by order of the University. So, I'll forget this little incident as long as you proceed directly to the M-Card office! NOW!"
"I don't think you're hearing me. I don't want an M-Card!"
"I don't think you're hearing me. I'm not asking you, boy. Move!" the rent a cop said as he put his hand on his pistol.
Later, at the M-Card office, we were whisked into line by efficient, happy, University personnel who glared at us and said little.
"They didn't have to handcuff us!" whined Jerry.
"Yeah, I know."
Above the large counter there was a huge sign that said M-CARD: ALL YOU GET. Within minutes the University personnel took our pictures, scanned them into a computerized database, and sent our pictures God knows where, probably onto secret computers accessable by every government agency on the continent. Our old ID cards were destroyed and recycled, soon to be a integral part of a picnic table. Five minutes later, we received our all new M-CARD.
"It's all you get." said the man at the counter, throwing the M-Cards onto the table.
Jerry and I picked up our glorious, new, M-Cards, looking at them quizically. I picked mine up, but Jerry held his up to the light before he put it in his pocket.
"Heyyyyy....."
"What?"
"Look. There's a watermark on the front of the card."
"You're right....hey! The Nike Swoosh logo?!"
Jerry and I left the office and went upstairs to the M-Card office affiliated with First of America. It was deserted. The First of America rep was polite and courteous. He also talked, and talked. Very quickly.
"Ready, hey, hey, got your M-Card, time to signyouup for the BankStripe and ATM card priveliges we'll have itdonebeforeyoucanevenbegintocomplainaboutthemajorhosejobwerepullingonyouh ahahahahahahaha!" as the rep produced two contracts out from behind the desk.
Jerry and I started reading. Instantly we had doubts.
"Hey! What's this about me needing a First of America account?" cried Jerry, shaking.
"Well, First of America is the only bank to administer the M-Card program, so you've got to have an account with us! But it's worth it to use the BankStripe and the ..."
"But what about my Comerica account I've had since birth and that I use as part of my ..."
"You won't be needing that any more, Son." said the rep confidently, as he pushed the papers toward us.
I was more confident. "Hey, I've got a First of America account but I opened it at Kalamazoo. So where do I sign?"
"Wait. You have to have an account in Ann Arbor. We'll close your account and open one here."
"What! I'm not about to do that! Are you out of your head? I've got 150 good checks to use! I don't have time to fill out all of those forms!"
The rep looked disgusted. "Wait a minute. You can't use any of our spiffy options, so why are you here? Ah...wait! You can use the CashChip...available in 14 not really convienient locations around campus! And three on North Campus! I think. I'll have to check."
"Fourteen? How many people have the M-Card?"
"Oh, between thirty and fifty thousand. Why?"
"That's not very convienient ... hey! What's this fine print down here at the bottom?"
"Right! Look at the time! Come back to First of America soon! Be well!"
Jerry and I left. We were hungry, and so we decided to put some money into the CashChip to see how it worked. We went into a normal restaurant that had a large "We accept the M-Card. We kinda had to, or you'd go someplace else." sign in the front of the store. We went in and got some food and paid for it with ... the M-Card.
The guy at the counter gave us the food and took the M-Card to pay for it. The guy walked over to the M-Card plastic machine and pushed a button and swiped the card. Nothing happened. He pushed another button. "Damn machine!" He pushed lots of buttons. Nothing happened. Our food was getting cold. There was a very long line forming and many in the line were getting angry. "DAMMIT!" the attendant screamed as he hit the machine hard. It beeped a lot. He returned our M-Cards. The machine blew up. A spring flew into my super order of fries.
Our food was now cold. We were annoyed, so we left and tried to use the M-Card somewhere else.
We couldn't use M-Card at lots of places where we wanted to use it and once we had put our money on that cash chip we didn't know how to get it back except by spending it. It sucked. We went to Borders. They also did not take the M-Card. In fact, there were lots of places that didn't take it. Why was this thing so great?
"Jerry."
"Yeah?"
"How the hell could that friend of yours like all of the stuff that comes with the card?"
"I really don't know. Hey! There's a picture of him!"
I looked over on a large poster that had been put up onto the wall. On the poster, there was a guy holding up a card. He was holding it up to the sky as if to say "Thank you! Thank you!" I walked forward to the poster and groaned.
The guy was holding up an M-Card.
"THEODORE B SCREWED?" said Jerry. "He never told me he was doing these ads! Hey, here he comes now! Hey, Lew!"
"WHAT?!" said Lew, angry.
"You're on the..."
"YES, I'm on the bloody poster. I wish I had never done that. It's made my life miserable! Miserable!"
"What are you talking about? Didn't they give you lots of money and other cool stuff?"
"They gave me twenty bucks a week for the rest of the year."
"That's not so bad, is it, for one poster?"
"They put it on CashChip."
Jerry and I winced. We bought him a coffee. With cash. MR