Until about two weeks ago, I enjoyed one of those very college-specific freedoms that exist only to prepare us for failure in the real world: the ability to use fake currency.

One swipe of a card bearing my youthful freshman visage was my golden ticket to food freedom. I could buy a mediocre meal at an absurd price or a poorly made wrap filled with undercooked chicken without a twinge of guilt thanks to my savior, my loyal sugar daddy -Wolfbucks, baby.

But I admit to wanton spending habits, especially in the C-Store.

Wolfbucks so easily influenced the buying of a drunken round of Coke Icees, or the decision to purchase every variety of organic pomegranate juice the store carries – and there are many – for a private taste-test (Odwalla won).

I also felt a moral imperative to spring for Wolfbucks-less friends or that stranger holding up the line with her troublesome debit card (just tryin’ to embody Jesuit ideals). Despite the frequency of my frivolous purchases, my account never seemed to wane. What was the one constant in my life, my unfaltering support system? Wolfbucks … maybe.

I was picking up my overpriced breakfast bar of choice before class one morning when my life in the fast lane came to a screeching halt. The cashier scanned the bar. Instead of the gentle beep that usually followed, the scan was met with an abrasive buzz, as if to say “Not so fast!”

The cashier looked at me with a sideways glance – “Wolfbucks, baby?”

Apparently all those donated Orleans Room lunches, the disgusting Brazilian wraps, the occasional Smoothies and all that pomegranate juice (what a terrible idea) had whittled my account down to a staggering 89 cents. And somehow, I never saw it coming – even after that ill-conceived fruit juice spree.

Now I realize my untimely Wolfbucks outage was exactly what I needed.

In real life, I’m not going to get $500 on a card to recklessly spend. If my spending habits were to extend to a credit card, I’d be dealing with skyrocketing interest rates and pestering phone calls from the Internal Revenue Service.

Glad I stopped now – Wolfbucks saved me.

But at least a few meals and a gratis Icee or two can be attributed to me, and I can now say with authority who makes the best pomegranate juice.