Julia Gottlieb: Moving on to another plastic rectangle

An old joke goes, "of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most." I'd like to amend that. I miss my PennCard even more.

It's the key to building access, meal plans, library use and the all-important bursar bill. In fact, a missing PennCard makes anything outside of going to class almost impossible.

And with a constant stream of lost cards -- making me, sadly, a perpetual loser -- I am all too familiar with these frustrations. Fortunately, I usually pride myself on finding my student identification before having to purchase a new one.

This week, however, was not one of those instances. Somehow, on my way back from the Pottruck Health and Fitness Center, I lost my fifth PennCard. In the three blocks between the gym and my house, it just jumped out of my pocket and fell into oblivion.

Purchasing a new card may not seem like that much of a hassle. It's extremely fast and I get to keep up on PennCard technology. For example, did you know that students no longer have to announce their social security numbers out loud? Now you just type it into a mini-keyboard. The new Penn holograms are fascinating as well -- apparently there must have been attempts at forgery. I just wish my new picture didn't have a translucent University shield stamped across my forehead.

But getting a new card isn't all fun and recreation. In the end, you have to pay the piper. In a little less than four years, I've spent $75 on six plastic rectangles. Literally. I was so embarrassed at having to buy my latest ID that I kept up a constant chatter with the staff member printing my card. I figured if I kept him distracted, the suffix at the end of my student identification number -- that is, the "05," indicating my number of replacement cards -- would go unnoticed.

But the bill arrived, interrupting my attempts at creating a diversion. I had to stop talking and figure out how to pay for the new ID. Penn-Cards just aren't the type of expense you can charge to your bursar bill. Students might be able to get away with buying CD's under the guise of a bookstore purchase, but there's no other way to explain a charge from the PennCard center. It's the equivalent of saying, "Hello Mom and Dad. Your daughter is a disorganized fool."

In fact, I have often feebly attempted to save money by holding out on new ID purchases, hoping I will miraculously find the old card before having to shell out more cash. During these periods of abstinence, I always take solace with friends. "Oh don't worry," they coddle, "I had a friend who lost his card eight times first semester freshman year." I wipe the exasperated tears from my face, thank them for their kind words and ask for their help in postering the campus with "missing" flyers.

Plus, there's always the kid nearby who overhears the conversation and has to tell me how he or she never lost even one PennCard. I hate those kids. Sometimes they'll even offer that they only had to get one replacement and that's because the actual card fell apart or the lamination began to peel.

OK, maybe I don't actually hate them -- I do have several close friends who fall into this category -- but their presence definitely exacerbates the "disorganized fool" feeling.

Inevitably, after I break down and purchase my new ID, the old one comes back. It's like my PennCard just takes a vacation and decides to resurface a few hours after I've bought a new one. It returns from the library, the gym or that giant pile of papers in my room. And it comes back to mock me.

This time, I actually got an e-mail from the Chemistry Department. I lost my PennCard walking west from the gym. How it could have possibly ended up southeast of Pottruck is a complete mystery to me. Perhaps my PennCard is trying to send me some sort of academic message.

So even as I write this, I'm concocting plans about what I'm going to do with yet another expired PennCard. I might as well start a collage of past IDs. I figure I can staple a few formerly missing socks and dub it an art project.

I think I'll call it "Outwitted by inanimate object. Number six."

Julia Gottlieb is a senior English and Music major from Lancaster, Pa.

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