August 2004 Archives

By Vincent Safuto staff writer

August 28, 2004

Most columnists love to lament the fact that "things" have changed so much from the good old days, but I refuse to wallow in such nostalgia.

On a recent Sunday morning, my clock-radio awakened me with a public service announcement from a local public radio station, informing listeners that they had until Aug. 24 to register at Indian River Community College, and could do so on the Web.

Later that day, I saw the class schedule in the Press Journal, and below the list was the advice to visit the Web site to register.

It brought back memories of my days at Palm Beach Community College in the late 1980s, and the ordeal one endured in registering for classes.

There was no Web back then, and PBCC not only didn't have telephone registration, some of the instructors didn't even have telephones in their offices. If you wanted to register, you had to show up in person, hand the form to someone sitting at a computer terminal and hope there still were openings in the class or classes you wanted.

For those just starting out, few classes were open, as more advanced students got the earlier registration dates. I remember standing in line hours before registration opened for those at the same level I was at, waiting for the doors to the student activities center to open. If the planets were aligned properly, and the class wasn't full, you'd get what you wanted and leave clutching the class schedule, happy to be able to advance in your college career. Savvy students had alternate classes in case their first choices were full.

Another reason for waiting in line was to have a shot at a slot in the English literature classes taught by Watson B. Duncan. He taught in the theater named after him and each of his classes had almost 150 eager students who thought he was the second-greatest figure in English literature, the first being William Shakespeare.

I managed to take both of Duncan's classes, English literature before and after 1660; the great man died the year I graduated from PBCC. I sold back almost all of my college textbooks, but "The Literature of England," the book Duncan required you to buy, is in an honored place on my bookshelf today.

Florida Atlantic University was slightly more advanced, with a telephone registration system that stratified students by the number of credits they had. You'd get a letter in the mail telling you the earliest time you could try to register, and when that time arrived, you did the "touch-tone" shuffle, again hoping the classes you wanted were available.

As with the community colleges, FAU now allows Web registration. I envy those students who now can point, click and sign up for their classes, though paying for them has become — if anything — a lot harder.

Progress isn't always bad, and while you still can register in person the way I did, the new ways seem better to me.

Vincent F. Safuto is a copy editor for the Press Journal. Reach him at ( Vincent.Safuto@scripps.com).


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By Vincent Safuto staff writer

August 14, 2004

With all the tales about con artists and scams going around today, it's a sad commentary that we have to be vigilant, even when good things happen to us.

Back in my days at the Boca Raton News, I remember reading about one fellow who was convinced that he was about to win a contest because all the letters he'd been sent assured him that he was one of the finalists.

I got those letters, too and learned to take them with a grain of salt because I had worked at a postal facility and had seen huge numbers of them arrive, bundled together by carrier route for delivery. You may be a finalist, but you share that privilege with millions of other people.

This poor fellow spent a fortune on magazine subscriptions and even traveled twice to the headquarters to claim his "prize," only to find that he had not won.

After these instances were publicized, some of the companies ended their contests and others had to modify theirs in hopes of preventing future bad publicity.

I joked in my Boca Raton News column one time about having received two notices from two different companies that I was "most definitely on the final, final, final list," eligible to win big money.

The letters said they'd come on Thanksgiving, and I opined that they should stagger their arrivals to avoid a tragic collision in the small cul-de-sac in my neighborhood. (They never showed up, and I had to eat the cookies I had prepared myself.)

My e-mail box today is full of offers promising big checks in the mail, and I don't believe a word of them. Still, one time I got a check in the mail and almost threw it out, so convinced was I that it was a scam of some sort.

It came in what looked like an official U.S. government "penalty" envelope, which threatens dire consequences if you use it to avoid paying postage. Inside was a check. I was skeptical.

It looked like a Social Security administration check, and the amount, less than $15, made me wonder if it was one of those "cash the check and change your phone service" deals. So I kept the check and awaited more information. About a week later, a letter arrived from the Social Security Administration telling me it had sent me a check. If I had any questions, I should call the toll-free number.

The person who responded was helpful and efficient. It was a legitimate check from the government, he said. Back in the 1970s, when my father had been on disability and had gotten checks for my brothers and me, he had been underpaid. The check settled the underpayment.

"Go ahead and cash it," the person advised. I did, of course.

It's a sad state of affairs when you have to check out everything, but nowadays it's the only way to avoid being taken for a ride.

Vincent F. Safuto is a copy editor for the Press Journal. Reach him at ( Vincent.Safuto@scripps.com).


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