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Monday, September 25. 1989 / University Daily Kansan
Opinion
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Common sense can deter KU parking sticker theft
The most recent crime wave at the University of Kansas the theft of parking stickers -- should be easy to prevent.
There are several steps that those who park on campus and the Parking Department need to take to alleviate the problem.
First and perhaps most important, the Parking Department should issue stickers that attach to the inside of a vehicle's window. Whoever is taking the stickers must be tempted by the ease with which anyone could whisk a razor blade over the sticker and have it in hand within a minute.
Instead, if the stickers were on the inside of the window, the thief would have to get inside the car to get it — a risk that is hardly worthwhile for a parking sticker that probably can't be reused.
If the criminals are, in fact, trying to reuse the stolen stickers, then it is the responsibility of everyone who parks on campus to try to help the Parking Department and the police in spotting them. Taking a quick glance at the window stickers of other cars as you make that long trek from the parking lot to campus, you may find a sticker that looks torn or isn't quite sticking to the window properly. Report it.
Also, keep a close eye on your parking sticker. It's possible to drive away without even noticeing that your sticker was taken. Of course, that ticket flapping under the windshield wiper the next time you park will be a handy indication that it's missing. Be sure to report the missing sticker to police both to aid them in their search for the thief or thieves and to guarantee that you'll be able to buy a replacement sticker for only $3.
Those steps could help that one extra student or faculty member going through the hassle of being without a parking sticker and possibly having to clear up a ticket that was received after the sticker was stolen.
David Stewart for the editorial board
Wescoe's cafeteria design doesn't make eating easy
At least they tried.
But unfortunately, the recent renovation of the cafeteria at Wesco Hall is a failure.
In the old cafeteria, lining up for food was simple. Customers who wanted deli sandwiches lined up in the deli line, which snaked in from the hallway. Those who wanted cold sandwiches or a soda lined up in another line that originated and ended separately from the deli line.
It was not pretty to look at, but it got the job done. The opposite is true in the new "cage," which has replaced the previous system.
The new deli line and another line that leads to the drink machines, cold sandwiches, hot dogs, popcorn, salad bar, etc., both start in the same place — the seating area. The system is a mess, especially at lunchtime. Many customers still have not learned that there are two lines and wait in the longer and slower deli line. Such mistakes are understandable because there are only small, hand-stenciled signs to tell customers which line to enter.
The other line is non-existent after customers enter.
The deli line is orderly only until a customer is served and is unleashed into the cage.
The other line is non-existent after customers enter. And after a customer negotiates the lines and enters the cage, chaos reigns. Like a flood gate, the random lines pour a sea of people into the care during peak hours.
A system is needed to get and keep people in line for the services they desire. Such order is necessary because there is just not enough room in the cage.
As it is, Wescoe cafeteria customers get indigestion long before lunch just thinking of the battle they will have to win to get a simple hotdog and soda for lunch.
Ric Brack for the editorial board
Because of an editorial writer's error, Rashid Zulu's participation in the graduate student boycott of Student Senate was incorrectly reported in Thursday's Kansan. Zulu had not joined the boycott.
Correction
News staff
David Stewart...Editor
Rit Brack...Managing editor
Daniel Niemi...News editor
Candy Niemann...Planning editor
Stan Diel...Editorial editor
Jennifer Corser...Campus editor
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Nevin Murray...Photo editor
Stephen Kline...Graphics editor
Christine Winner...Arts/Features editor
Tom Eblen...General manager, news adviser
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Corporeal Townsend ...Corporeal Team
Eric Hughes ...Creative director
Christi Dool ...Classified manager
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Janeine Hines ...Sales and marketing adviser
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Optimism for S.Africa premature
Analysts of South African affairs have been hit by a wave of optimism with the election of F. W. de Klerk. Some are even predicting that the inherently evil system of apartheid is on its way down and that a peaceful evolution to true democracy has begun in South Africa.
When de Klerk allowed 20,000 anti-apartheid demonstrators to march peacefully through Cape Town, many people believed that his campaign promises of bringing the Black majority out of the darkness of apartheid and into the policy-making process were made in candor. Yet these analysts have jumped to their conclusions prematurely, ignoring several economic and, more importantly, political factors that have led to de Klerk's softened stance against dissent.
When de Klek replaced P. W. Botha after his resignation in August as President of the Republic of South Africa, he inherited control of a racist tyranny that attempts to govern the entire population of South Africa, 75 percent of which is Black. While the white population stagnates, the number of Black South Africans is growing rapidly, constituting an even greater force of political pressure as well as economic demand.
The economy of South Africa has been hurling in recent years, largely because of foreign sanctions such as those imposed by the United States in 1966 over President Reagan's veto. The growth rate of the South African economy has failed to keep up with the growing population, leaving South African leaders two alternatives.
Dan Grossman
Staff columnist
In the past, the South African government has depended on foreign creditors to provide the capital for economic expansion. In doing so, it has accumulated $12 billion in foreign debt. Given this and the fact that South Africa is becoming more and more isolated, economically and politically, because of its repugnant racist policies, landing loans from foreign creditors would be difficult.
The other alternative for de Klerk and his government is to attempt to create growth by realizing the potential demand of the Black majority for South African products. Thus, softer policies toward the anti-apartheid movement would aid in economic recovery.
Economically, de Kleirk's rhetoric of a kinder, gentler South Africa is out of necessity. But given the political context in which his talk of reforms furthered, further skepticism of his sincerity is warranted.
The parliamentary campaign and election that extended de Klerk's term as Botha's replacement were marred by bloody confrontations between police and Blacks protesting their exclusion from
the electoral process. Twenty-nine people were killed by police wielding whips, clubs and guns with live ammunition. International as well as multiracial domestic outrage at the government's blatant brutality undoubtedly affected de Kleerk's decision to suspend the state of emergency and allow the Cape Town peace march to proceed.
De Klerk realizes that the only way his illegitimate regime can maintain apartheid while avoiding further political isolation is to appease the anti-apartheid movement and the international community by promising change and appearing to deliver it. By allowing token freedom of expression such as the Cape Town peace march on September 16, de Klerk hoped to convince the world that his administration is going to end apartheid while not committing himself to any tangible reforms.
At his inauguration ceremony, which no head of state chose to attend, President de Klerk talked of a future without discrimination: The Cape Town march was supposedly evidence of his desire to begin a new era of South African history. He captured the world's attention by showing that the president of South Africa leaders and police. But until de Klerk's rhetoric of "one united nation" transforms into substantive reform, South Africa will continue to be, as de Klerk's inauguration was, isolated.
People these days are plain furious
Of all the columns that have appeared in this space, there is one that continues to draw more requests for copies than any other. The surprising thing is that it is not an especially dramatic column; it did not concern a controversial national event or deal with a famous personality in the news.
▶ Dan Grosman is a Denver, Colo., senior majoring in political science.
The column was called "Life of a Salesman," and it was based on a simple premise. I travel a lot; invariably the first thing I do when I get off an airplane, or arrive at an airport or other public place, is go to the nearest bank of pay telephones. In the weeks and months before I wrote that column, I had been noting something.
It was this: A man (sometimes a woman) would lift the receiver, then hesitate a moment before making the call. What he was doing was figuratively, if not literally, taking a breath. When his superior back home answered the call, the man on the pay phone would begin the conversation with a hearty tone of voice. Soon enough, though, he felt that the caller had made some variation of, "They think they're going to have to pass on it for now." Before long, the person on the other end would terminate the call.
What I was seeing, time and again, was the toughest part of a salesman's job — telling the home office that, even though he had been sent on the road to complete a deal, he had been told "no." To me there was something moving and even a little bit heroic about what salespeople had to do — to hear "no," so many more times than they heard "yes," yet to get up every day full of enthusiasm, whether genuine or feigned, and go out again in
Bob Greene
Syndicated columnist
search of a "yes." Knowing all the while that,
more times than not, they might end up at a bank
of pay telephones calling that home office, taking
that deep breath, and saying: "They think they're
going to have to pass on it for now..."
It used to be that people, at least in public, would let their anger simmer. No more. Three quick examples, all delivered in raised voices (names have been changed):
I've been on the road as usual, and more and more I have been hearing something new at those banks of public phones. I'll guarantee you, today's column is not one that anyone will ever request copies of; if the salesman's overheard tales of rejection touched a universal chord of understanding and empathy, these overheard tales are merely depressing.
To sum it up, people these days are just plain furious. Furious and mean and full of real hostility. That's what I'm overhearing on the phones.
— "Oh, yeah? Well, you can call John right back and tell him that there's no way it's going to work that way. You tell him that as soon as I get back in town i want to see him, and that he can count on us
— “What what? Listen, pal, this is the last time you're going to pull this on me. We've been doing business for years but it's over. My patience has its (obsceny) limits. That's right, you heard him. (Pause) I'll use whatever kind of language I want, pal. Goodbye.” (Deliberate slam of the phone.)
taking our business elsewhere. Don't sugarcoat it. You tell him how steamed am I. (Pause) No, you tell him. He'll hear it from me when I see him."
The reason for all of this? We have noted before a phenomenon called "The 'twitching of America,'"—a national speeding up based on the availability of cellular telephones, beepers, fax machines and all the rest. With instant communication so readily available, people seem addicted to their own adrenaline. For several years now the country's psyche has seemed to be in a constant state of overdrive.
And believe me, I'll understand if no one ever wants a reprint of this column. On the other hand, if you wad the column up and scream out loud — that, I guess, will make sense. Welcome to the kinder, gentler nation.
So, perhaps this is the logical next step. "Letting off steam" isn't just an expression that came from nowhere. Steam is let off as a release for too much pressure. Maybe that's what's happening. The furious, red-faced people at the public telephones are the first wave of a nation that has driven itself beyond the acceptable limits of calm and civility.
CAMP UHNEELY
▶ Bob Greene is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune.
BY SCOTT PATTY