A Day in the Life at CMU Miami
8 AM. My alarm beeps twice. I jolt awake, panic, and swing my arm at it. Miss. Shit.
“IT’S KENNETH C. GRIFFIN O’CLOCK!” it bellows, and tinny notes soon follow. Can’t switch it off now – turning off the official Kenneth C. Griffin theme song is liable to suspension from the university.
8:15 AM. I brush my teeth in the dorm bathroom. There’s no mirror; instead, a gigantic photograph of Kenneth C. Griffin watches me, grinning. I search for a message in his eyes. You’ve got some toothpaste on your lip, they say.
9 AM. Classes start. First up is 70-101 Making and Taking. I make a little bit, but it is all taken.
9:30 AM. The intercom makes a scratchy sound and we all stop in the middle of lecture. We stand, hands over our hearts, ready to follow along. “I pledge allegiance to the pockets of Ken Griffin, and to the stock holdings for which they provide…”
10 AM. It’s time for societal problem solving. The teacher writes our topic on the board: HOMELESSNESS. Underlines it twice, and leaves to go “to the bathroom.” We spend class discussing homelessness amongst ourselves, but are unable to find the solution. D-.
11 AM. Money class. Today, we’re covering Griffinomics, the modern reimagining of Reagan’s trickle-down model. To be honest, I’m not sure which part exactly has been reimagined, but I nod along in the hopes that some of it trickles down to me. Registering for this class cost $399.99.
12 noon. Lunch time. My billionaire classmate thinks it’s funny to bid a million dollars for every meal in the auction hall, and I can only put up $15.45. He makes me beg for a cheese sandwich, and then charges me $14.44 for it. Plus tax.
1 PM. It’s beach time. My peers and I take a foray out to the beach. Not exactly sure what to do there. I get sand in my underwear and an awful tan.
5 PM. I start my homework. I don’t even look at it, just plug it directly into the CMU-provided Kenneth C. Griffin chatbot. “The obvious solution is to increase rent,” he purrs tenderly. I get rock hard immediately. I like to pretend he’s giving me a handie while I copy and paste my homework; it is the only form of revenge I have left.
10 PM. The Kenforcers found out about the chatbot voice thing. They beat me half to death, leaving none of my body intact besides one leg, so that I can hop to class.
11 PM. Cocaine time. I’m not from the Miami area, but I read that this was the local custom, and I want to fit into the Miami culture. I do a line and pop a few melatonins. Good night, CMU Miami. Good night, Kenneth C. Griffin.