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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 3, 1996)
Privilege is pricey,
but education pays
Life is rough. And then you graduate.
The college life isn’t always everything
it’s cracked up to be. It’s the only full-time
job you pay to have —
and boy, do you pay. ((
You get nothing for
overtime — except
maybe a splitting head- w
ache and nagging re- rre ur e
grets.^y didn’t! be- learning to
come a beachcomber in °
the Bahamas?” manage
Long hours. Late
nights. Little sleep. Lots OUT time,
of coffee. -
Out of time. Out of OUT StTeSS
money. Out of luck. ,
You’ve got to make OJlCx OUT
the grades if you are mnnov
going to make it to the money
big time. But then, nr nnf »
you’ve got to make ur rLUt/'
some money if you are _
going to make it at all.
And college isn’t getting any cheaper.
More students are working longer hours
outside of school than ever before. Many are
working 20 or more hours per week. Some
full-time students are working full-time jobs
on top of their full load of classwork.
“More than 20 hours and we start seeing
an impact on their academics,” one student
employment expert says.
And it is typically the serious students
who suffer the most They are the ones who
will do whatever it takes to keep themselves
in school — even if that means sacrificing
all sleep and sanity to work their way
So these are the best years of our lives,
After this, it’s into the “World of Work.”
World of Work, huh? What exactly are
we doing here now?
Investing in our futures, of course. We
are laying it all on die line and hoping our
numbers get called when the jackpot of jobs
We are learning to manage our time, our
stress and our money — or not.
If we can make it here, we’ll make it
anywhere — or so the stoiy goes.
And we are the few, the proud ... the
A college education has never been easy
to come by, but today more people have the
opportunity than ever before.
It’s no longer an endeavor solely of the
well-to-do. Now people of all ages,
ethnicities and incomes can do well too.
But privilege has its price, and some of
us are paying out the nose.
Nonetheless, you can bet it will all be
worth it in the end.
Unsigned editorials are the opinions of the
Fall 19% Daily Nebraskan. They do not nec
essarily reflect die views of die University
of Nebraska-Lincoln, its employees, its stu
dent body or the University of Nebraska
Board of Regents. A column is soley the
opimotfof its author. The Board of Regents
serves as publisher of the Daily Nebraskan;
policy is set by the Daily Nebraskan Edito
rial Board. The UNL Publications Board, es
tablished by the regents, supervises the pro
duction of the newspaper. According to
policy set by the regents, responsibility for
the editorial content of the newspaper lies
solely in the hands of its student employees.
The Daily Nebraskan welcomes brief let
ters to the editor and guest columns, but
does not guarantee their publication. The
Daily Nebraskan retains the right to edit
or rqect any material submitted. Submit
ted material becomes the property of the
Daily Nebraskan and cannot be returned.
Anonymous submissions will not be
published. Those who submit letters
most identify themselves by name, year
in school, major and/or group affilia
tion, if any. Submit material to: Daily Ne
braskan, 34 Nebraska Union, 1400RSt
Lincoln, Neb. 68588-0448. E-mail:
A doting driver
Saturn’s got my head spinning
People think joining a cult is a
But when it comes with four
doors, dual air bags, gray interior and
a “go” btaton—-it’s a pretty great
It’s a Saturn.
I guess in Saturn speak we’re not a
cult. We’re just a big, automotive •
“family.” We love our cars. We have
to, you know.
It starts like this: Everything you
see in the Saturn commercials—the
smiling sales staff, the happy car
owners, the giddy financing—it’s all
And it all came as quite a shock.
Eight months ago, I set out to buy
I’d never bought a car before. I
had three days to find one.
Considering my knowledge of
automobiles goes no farther than
knowing how to change the wind
shield-washer fluid, I decided to rely
on books to tell me automobile
ratings. I filtered through the pages
and highlighted the names of cars
that looked good and the ones I could
pay off before I die.
The first car that caught my
interest during my extensive research
was the Saturn. Deciding my next
step would be to actually see a
Saturn, I headed into the Twilight
Zone (aJc.a. the Saturn dealership).
(I’d never been to a car dealership
before but had heard horror stories of
1 seedy men with big white teeth and
bold polyester suits.)
Anyhow, back on Saturn... I
walked in and was soon acquainted
with a salesperson. I was waiting for
the sales pitch, but the first thing he
did was sit down with me and go
over my driving “needs.” Based on
these, he said, the Saturn SL1 would
be my alter ego.
Then we took a nice little tour to
the cut-away version of the Saturn,
which showed how my car would
give its life for me if ever in a tragic
accident. We visited a few Saturas in
the showroom. They were all very
I was introduced to another
salesperson, who was to be my
Saturn mentor during the ride. Then,
before I invited the dealer over for
I guess in
not a cult. We’re just
a big, automotive
dinner, I stopped in my tracks. “OK,
they’re going to wrestle me to the
ground and make me buy the most
Nope. In fact, the dealer told me
not to make any hasty decisions. Go
and look around at other cars, he
said. Talk to your mom, your friends.
Then, when you think you’re ready,
we’ll talk about cost.
Uh, sure. I jsaid I would, but I
didn’t. I felt if I crossed the street to
the “other” dealers, I’d be disloyal. I
went back the next day, and my
salesperson and I went for a cruise.
OK, I was sold, but the Saturn I
wanted was in Kansas City, Mo., and
I needed it the next day.
No problem. One of their Saturn
people left at 6 a jn. to go to Kansas
City and pick up my car. So, long
story short, the really scary stuff
My shiny, clean car was in the
showroom in front of two wide glass
doors. I had to pose with the car for a
photo (for a laminated card and
calendar that I received later). The
entire sales staff came out to greet
me. They shook my hand.
I got in my car. The staff did this
little cheer; pumping their fists in the
air. The showroom doors opened
wide, and I fel t as though I was about
to drive off the set of Wheel of
Fortune in my “BRAND NEW
So, my car and I were off. We
drove to Iowa City, Iowa, to see my
non-Saturn-owning friend. Halfway
there, I stopped for gas. I popped the
automatic fuel door and saw a sign
posted cm my gas cap.
“Paula, I hope this means you are
enjoying your new Saturn. Love,
Andrea [aforementioned salesper
This was only the beginning.
Soon, letters, birthday cards,
briefings from the national Saturn
headquarters (or family home, we
like to call it) started flooding in.
OK, great, I was thinking, this is
only a Nebraska phenomenon. But,
alas, I took my car to New Orleans,
and I was bombarded with warm
fuzzies all over again.
(In the service department in
Metairie, La., filling out paperwork):
“Hey, you’re from Nebraska!
Well, gee, hey, one of our guys is
from Nebraska. Hey, Tim! Tim! This
girl’s from Nebraska. Come say
Tim and I bonded.
Saturn owners, themselves, bond.
I’ve met many owners with that
planetary gleam in their eyes. We talk
Satumspeak and scoff at those who
have not chosen the right road.
To be with other Saturn owners, I
came close to joining the Saturn Car
Club, but I was afraid Saturn mania
had already sucked me in too far.
My brother laughs at me and my
Saturn fetish because he says I fell
into the customer-service trap. But,
in defense of Mardi (that’s my car),
I’m a jolly motorist.
The car’s been great so far, but in
the back of my mind I have this silly
fear that as soon as something breaks
down, I’ll call the Saturn dealership
and they’ll say, “Paula who?” “You
bought a what? We only sell
Oh. I feel a twinge of disloyalty.
Ow. Pain. Pain.
I love my Saturn. Saturn is good. I
love my Saturn. Saturn is good. Hail
Lavigie is a junior news
editorial major and Daily Nebras
kan associate news editor.
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