Having not even officially graduated with my MFA, with the ink still drying on my thesis, and my possessions still cooling in a storage locker, a precocious sophomore from my alma-mater (I think his name was Chad?) called asking for money. The conversation did not exactly go well as this nearly faithful transcription reports:
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Chad: Hello, I want to congratulate you on your recent graduation.
Me: Thank you.
Chad: And I want to tell you about our new Senior Gift program we just started–
Me: You’re going to give me a gift?
Chad: Excuse me?
Me: The Senior Gift–I hope it’s not a pen holder. I already have one.
Chad (now realizing it’s a joke, going off script: Oh, ha ha. No. (back on script). Our Senior Gift program is to help students out who may need financial help with books that keep getting more expensive–
Me: Sure.
Chad: And tuition and living expenses.
Me: Yup.
Chad: So can we count on your support?
Me: Sure, I support you.
Chad: Great. So can we count on a gift of $100 for the Senior Gift Scholarship?
Me: Uh, I don’t think so.
Chad: Or whatever amount you’re comfortable with.
Me: Dude, I graduated with an MFA in poetry. I don’t donate to scholarships, I apply for them.
Chad: Oh. Well–
Me: Well.
Chad: Well, congratulations. What do you plan on doing with that MFA?
Me: Have a good night Chad.