Titan Card Quote and SLIC Observations

Question: What do you think of the university requiring students to get new Titan Cards in the middle of the year?

“It’s a convenience for students looking for checking accounts, but for students who have been here and have established accounts it’s an inconvenience.” Krysta Hernandez

“I thought my old picture looked really cool because it was faded and fuzzy, you know vintage. So my advice to people is, don’t keep your old picture, I look like a total dork on my new card.” Dave Right


SLIC (Student Leadership and Involvement Center)- viewing from the center of the room, looking at the Algoma Street exterior wall, between two pillars.

Smashmouth’s remake of I’m a believer plays over a ceiling based intercom system. To my right a group of four people work on planning a function, they seem to be caught up on whether or not it is alright to serve non-alcoholic margarita flavored slushiest. To my right two people are going over documents and talking in hushed tones. The wooden table between the two of them is empty, so I sit down and take out my wide-rule notebook and mechanical pencil (which has seen better days).

The carpet is a medium shade of gray, which it seems would go with anything since there are a number of other colors in the room. Looking at the Student Legal Service’s nook, I am positioned between two pillars; the one on my left is blue with a gray baseboard and an unused trashcan sitting beside it. On my right is a paisley green pillar with the same plastic baseboard. Next to the seat on the right is a multi-colored and weirdly patterned chair (it almost looks like somewhat cut up a birthday clown’s pants and upholstered with that). On the chair is a blue and gray backpack, left unclaimed since no one is really close to it, nor is anyone very far away.

Next to the green pillar is a long raised counter top, with six computers on top of it. Three of the computers are facing one way while the other three are going the other. One monitor has an error message on it, while the other two are shut down or sleeping. High chairs from the cafeteria have been brought in so people can use these. Under one of the chairs is a yellow number two pencil, half-way sharpened down with only a nub of an eraser, someone dropped it and it must have been too far to reach down for such a small thing. Given how uncomfortable these chairs can be, it’s no wonder that the only people using computers are on the other side of the isle.

Two men are sitting in large, gray rolling chairs with so much padding you could lose yourself in them. Again there are six computers, three of them facing in toward the center isle. The men have left a deactivated computer between them. The closer of the two looks middle-eastern. His hair is black and course, his skin a dark tan. He has on black jeans, tennis shoes and a red shirt. He is sitting back in his chair, chatting with someone on his cell phone. The man who is further off is wearing a UW-Titan’s hoodie Sweatshirt. He has on blue jeans and tennis shoes and is working on something online. The song changes to some random hip-hop ditty.

As the middle-eastern man hangs up his phone and goes back to work on his project several things happen. The meeting on my left disbands, the man in the hoodie gets a cell phone call and a woman walks in and up my line of vision. She is wearing a beat up orange baseball cap, a tan coat and blue jeans. She passes a bookshelf with several tiers of binders, each a different color. A bulletin board covered in green-blue carpeting is mounted to the wall above the shelves. Two posters are on the board, one for Big Brothers & Big Sisters, the other for Leadership Workshops. The wall and pillars on the far side of the room are painted yellow to a point, then blue once one enters the Student Legal Service’s nook, which the woman does.

She approaches another woman who has been working in the corner on a single computer in one of those comfortable, gray chairs. Her sweatshirt is gray and her pants are blue. The woman who just came in pulls out the chair next to her and begins to talk as another woman in a gray sweat shirt and tan colored corduroys enters and approaches the man in the UW-Titan hoodie with her still glowing cell phone in hand.

The man hangs up his cell phone and greets her with a hug. He shuts down his computer and they go over to the chair by the green pillar and begins to rummage through the backpack. As they talk the song changes again to Fat Boy Slim’s “Funk Soul Brother”. The man picks up the backpack and walks out with the woman, leaving the middle-eastern man behind working on his project. The two women in the nook near the Algoma exterior wall are still chatting, the one who just came in has removed her coat and placed it on the table next to her. She has blonde hair and a tight-white shirt over a white tank top. The middle-eastern man gets up and leaves, with his computer still on, so I sneak a peak. His screen has a print notice on it and the website he has up is a US Government nutrition site. Fat Boy Slim is just about done singing when I glance at the clock and realize that it has already been fifteen minutes. I get up, picking up my worn backpack and leave the way I came in, with my notebook and pencil in hand.