Hi. My name is 987-65-4321, but my friends call me Jarrod. UCR, of course, is not my friend, so it prefers to identify me by my social security number. Always.
Professors demand that I write my SSN on all of my exams, and often on such crucial documents as weekly homework assignments. Whenever I go into Hinderaker Hall ("hinde," by the way, is the Latin word for "money") on administrative business, I am asked for my SSN, never my name.
Recently, while walking across campus, I passed by an aromatic patch of blooming spring plants. I immediately began to sneeze, so I whipped out a tissue and blew my nose. Having finished, I looked about for a trash can but did not see one. So, being concerned about our environment, I casually tossed the tissue on the ground. No sooner had I done this, a campus police officer approached me and asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
I instantly picked up the tissue and started apologizing: "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to throw it on the ground! Honest! I--"
The officer, holding out a pen, cut me off: "Look, I don't care where you throw it, but you have to write your social security number on it first."
And have you seen the new signs in the campus restrooms yet? No? Well, let me give you a summary of what they say: basically, there are new regulations for the use of toilet paper here at UCR. After finishing, the user is required to write his or her SSN on each individual square of paper, then separate them and staple them into a nice, neat stack which must then be deposited in a special drop box in front of the registrar's office. No, you cannot borrow my stapler.
Imagine what life would be like if the entire world were like UCR and everyone referred to each other by social security number. Imagine being at a birthday party and singing, "Happy birthday to you; happy birthday to you; happy bir-r-r-rthday dear one-two-three-dash-four-five-dash-six-seven-eight-ni-i-i-ine; happy birthday to you!" Or imagine spotting an attractive person in a social setting. Imagine yourself approaching and, after having a pleasant conversation, managing to obtain a slip of paper with this person's name and phone number on it. Now imagine your embarrassment when, seconds after you walk away, you glance at the paper and have to walk back to the person and say, "I'm sorry. . . is this part here your first name or your area code?"
Now the rules regarding tissues and toilet paper seem reasonable enough to me, but what I cannot understand is the new level to which UCR's SSN fetish rose during last month's ASUCR election. Despite all of my previous experiences, I could not believe it when the poll worker told me I would not be allowed to vote unless I wrote my social security number on my ballot. The bottom line is this: identifying a voter on his or her ballot in any way is completely unacceptable, regardless of how it is attempted to be justified. Needless to say, I did not vote that day and I will not vote in any future election that involves a similar mandate. I encourage my fellow students to boycott any election requiring identifying information to be written on the ballots. Perhaps if voter turnout drops from twenty percent to zero percent, those responsible for creating the election rules will find cause to come up with an acceptable system for ensuring the integrity of votes.
Uh oh, I feel a sneeze coming on. Anybody have a pen?