“Our mission is to maximize share-owner value over time.”

“Becoming the Best.”

Iowa State, the great land-grant university, is currently in negotiations for a deal that could make Coca-Cola products the exclusive on-campus beverage for the next 10 years.

There have been smaller contracts in the past, this new deal is an all-encompassing, permeating mass we haven’t seen the likes of since pink ooze took control of the Metropolitan Museum in Ghostbusters 2.

In exchange for handing over exclusivity rights, choice seating and parking at athletic events, etc., to Coke, Iowa State will pocket a few million dollars for their cooperation.

This isn’t the first time Coke has bought its way onto my school grounds. Two years earlier, the “gentle giant” of a corporation signed a similar deal with Ames High School.

For the privilege of hawking their sodas to a captive audience (minus the burden of competition), they gave a couple grand to the athletic department.

I remember being only slightly peeved at the time. Most of my peers found Coke acceptable or didn’t care at all.

If an exclusivity contract with one of the biggest brand names in America bought the football team nicer tights or better footballs, then I could deal with that.

Of course, Coca-Cola corporate mind share tactics didn’t stop at the vending machine.

Every student was rationed out a “Coke card” in homeroom, which was basically a plastic card which promised special deals to the cardholder.

Sadly, when presented at convenience stores across Iowa, its value wasn’t worth the plastic it was printed on. (Unless you count throwing said card at the face of an unsuspecting attendant and temporarily blinding her while your buddy looted the store.)

The Coke card was utterly worthless to students, but for Coca-Cola it was an opportunity to plant their logo into the wallets of a certain percentage of high school students. I’m sure Coke’s Teenage Mind Control division could quote you a number.

That high school contract was peanuts, however, compared to the pending deal with Iowa State.

Coke cards were the extent of corporate bastardization of my high school, but you can bet the millions of dollars that Iowa State stands to gain is far from a handout.

According to the Des Moines Register, in addition to first-class seating and parking at athletic events, “Bicycle racks would bear the logo of Powerade, a Coke product. Thirsty students would see on vending machines pictures of Beardshear Hall with Coca-Cola banners wrapped around its columns.”

If you could only see me as I type these words – I’m frothing at the mouth with excitement.

On the ISU beverage committee (yes, we have a beverage committee), opinions are understandably split.

While there’s no doubt that a cash-strapped university could benefit from the funds, some believe whoring ourselves to corporations isn’t the most ethical of solutions.

It jeopardizes the university’s role as a center of learning, they protest.

To make an analogy, imagine Iowa State not as the educational institution we all know and love, but instead a major corporation.

I know this is quite a stretch, so I’ll try to keep the analogy brief.

As a corporation, our president is like a CEO, and wealthy alumni are like investors. The corporation’s duty (like Coke’s succinct mission statement), is to make investors happy. This is akin to building skyboxes over Jack “Powerade” Trice Stadium.

When corporations run into money trouble, they tend to remedy the situation with a couple rounds of layoffs and reorganizations. Iowa State fires temp teachers, shaves course offerings and eliminates men’s baseball and swimming.

Professors and teachers are the tech support, which makes undergrads the poor saps who dial in for a help.

We can only hear the sounds of elevator music and a polite female voice repeating, “Your education is very important to us. Unfortunately, all of our lines are currently busy. Please hold, and your request will be answered in the order it was received. If you are a rich alumni, press `2′ now or say, `ka-ching!’ for immediate assistance.”

If Iowa State were a corporation, then the Coke exclusivity contract and perks would be a business deal, plain and simple. But, to the disappointment of our administrators, Iowa State is actually an educational institution. Its main goal should be to teach people stuff, not selling itself to beverage companies. The fact is, when it comes to pretending to care about teaching, Iowa State needs a better acting coach.

As a columnist, I’m sad to say that I have little influence over the administrative policy. So instead, I would like to take this opportunity to speak directly to alumni, whom I understand read the Daily quite regularly.

Dear Alumni:

I would urge you to reconsider any donation to Iowa State University.

The university is currently uninterested in investing the monies it receives toward furthering education and has instead directed its efforts to transmogrifying itself into somewhat of a corporate play toy.

They’re schmoozing for cash from Coca-Cola right now. It’s pathetic.

If you’re interested in helping out students, establish a scholarship.

If you’re one of those super-rich alumni who doesn’t want the donation to go toward undergraduate education and only cares about sitting in that stupid skybox or getting your name on a building, you disgust me.

Donate all you want; when you visit our campus and notice the skyrocketing tuition, teacher shortage and abundance of Coca-Cola paraphernalia, talk to a student yourself and see how much respect your millions will buy.

Sam Wong is a sophomore in electrical engineering from Ames.