A Letter to the IT Department

Dear Vanguard IT Department,

Fabulous job on the design of your student ID cards. The utter simplicity of the dark blue and white color scheme is just subdued enough that it will surely save me from any migraine from complex genius. While I am such a fan of your design, there is just one flaw to your almost-perfect creation.

You see, my issue is the student ID photos. This small one-inch square photo has plagued my existence from the moment I received this blessed piece of plastic. It is the one thing that haunts my subconscious in the late hours of the night, the one thing that destroys the last inklings of joy in my life, and the very bane of my academic existence. This one picture has immortalized the most hideous day of my life. The testimony of my one terrible haircut, the evidence of my sunburn that took two months to heal from, and the terrifying clash of the powdered blue background with the beautiful dark blue of the card. For years I have been subjected to look upon this horror scene as I scan in for chapel, or swipe for nourishment, or gain the basic access to my dorm. When, dearest IT Department, when will my torture end?

I’ve served my penance. I’ve done my time. I’ve grown and developed and evolved from the shell of a human captured in that plastic three years ago–I am almost unrecognizable–which is my problem. You see, dearest IT Department, I still very much want to use my student discounts but my ID photo does not represent what I currently look like. I’m tired of cashiers interrogating me about not matching my blasted likeness on the card. So what if my hair has grown from the mushroom-cap style it once was, or that my skin is no longer the raging red of the fluorescent lights of Ruby’s Diner, these are breakthroughs that we as a community should be celebrating. I would simply burn the dreaded thing if I thought that it could end this all, but alas–all replacement cards bear the same cursed image. Morning, afternoon, and evening that face stares into my inmost being from its throne on my key ring. If not for the necessity of having my ID on me at all times on campus, I’d bury it so no human would have to be forced to endure my same earthly suffering. 

 Your ID cards have inscribed on the top right “*your story matters:”, but if that were true, dearest IT Department, then you would end my persecution. However, I guess this is all my story will ever be now, the horrible, horrific, horror story of my student ID photo.

Sincerely,

Ket Barr