It’s not my fault. I wasn’t warned about this. It won’t happen to me, anyway. I will not be held responsible for this.

Claiming responsibility for anything seems about as difficult for college students as getting ahead in their homework. Unwanted pregnancy, drug and alcohol abuse, bad grades … it all falls on someone else’s shoulders. Sure, your college years are supposed to be the best years of your life — your last chance at freedom before you settle down to the daily grind. But lately, the lack of responsibility has risen to obnoxious levels of ridiculousness.

Case in point: credit card debt. You may have noticed Allison Belmore’s story in the Feb. 5, 1998, issue of the Daily that said credit card use by college students, and corresponding abuse, rose dramatically in recent years. Belmore interviewed a certain student about that person’s problems with the ISU Card. That student will remain anonymous in this space, because I believe that although the student did not intend to speak as spokesman of the student body, her story is typical.

It’s typical compared to stories such as a student suffering an alcohol overdose and then suing the university. It’s typical of college students everywhere today. Whatever happened to students like my friend Mr. Brown, who worked 40 hours a week while taking a full load of classes and walked to his job on Duff Avenue? (Uphill both ways.) Well, some of those students still exist, but most students more closely resemble Anonymous.

Anonymous said the credit card company shouldn’t have offered her the card because she wasn’t prepared for the responsibility. However, she didn’t HAVE to have a credit card, did she? My boyfriend survived almost three years of college without one, although I encourage him to apply for a card. You see, sometimes I get tired of using mine to pay Amoco for fixing or towing his truck.

Furthermore, if I signed up for every credit card I was offered, I wouldn’t have room in my wallet for my huge wad of cash, my Dairy Queen punch card or my miniature laminated high school diploma. I wouldn’t want to be caught without that, now, would I? That’s why I throw most of the applications away.

Once you have a card, what do you do with it? Go on a shopping spree, right? Well, all credit cards have a credit limit. Achieving this limit is not a goal you should strive for, however. It’s not like a cookie-selling contest, where you try to get the most money. A credit limit is the most you can spend, not the least.

My point is that the credit card companies are not to blame for our debts. They’re just doing their jobs. Anonymous also said she didn’t know Iowa State makes money from the ISU Card, and that she thinks the card is a scam. In case you didn’t know, credit card companies do not just provide a service out of the kindness of their hearts. They’re in it for the money. If Cy appears on the plastic, you can bet that the university, not the mascot team, pockets a cut of the profit.

What am I supposed to think about students who don’t read the information that comes with their credit cards? Anonymous said she “probably didn’t look at [the information] at all.” Education may be the key to ending credit card abuse, but how do you help someone who won’t be helped?

When you sign a piece of paper, you had better understand what you are getting into. This rule applies to any contractual agreement. If you don’t believe me, I’ve got, uh, free tuition for you, yeah, that’s it; just sign on the dotted line. Don’t worry about the fine print; it just says I think you’re such a cool person that you deserve a free education. Really.

The bottom line is, if you don’t feel like acting responsibly, don’t take on responsibility. That’s part of what being responsible is all about. Clear as mud? Well, I don’t care; no one ever told me my column had to make sense. If you don’t understand, it’s not my fault.

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Catherine Conover is a senior in liberal studies from Mapleton.