Donor Protection Program

I got a call last night from the McCombs School of Business, where I got four of my seven degrees (I used to have a problem). The gentleman wanted to verify my address. Hmm. He informed me that I did not have an e-mail address on file. Would I like to give him one? No, I most certainly would not.

After the small talk was done, he hit me with the "ask." Would I like to give to the McCombs School of Business?

What a strange and completely random coincidence! My brother goes on the Dean's Advisory Council at the McCombs School of Business and I get a call from them thirty eight minutes later asking for money!

I have spent much time and effort getting "lost" to my alma maters. Which is not an easy task. Universities follow you. They know when you move. They know when you change jobs, and what your pay is. They know when you are sleeping. And they know when you are awake! The University of Texas was able to find me for years when close relatives couldn't (or maybe wouldn't).

So I moved a lot. I left no forwarding addresses. I went years without a phone. I changed my name from Shalokowski to Smith. I removed the tiny Longhorn tracking device they had implanted in my neck during freshman orientation. Nineteen years later, I was successful. No more alumni newsletters. No annual appeals. No daily credit card offers to get cute little cards with Longhorns on them (and a low 38.3% APR). I paid an enormous price, but I shook them off my trail.

Then Stacy gets on the Advisory Council and my phone starts ringing. Hmmmmm.

I am going to miss Austin. I hate that I have to move again. And I was really starting to like my pretend family.