A Much Needed Update I really haven't intended to neglect my blog this much, and hopefully soon I'll get back into it, like really back into it, meaning I'll take the time to post clever opinions on world events and idiot entertainment spectacles instead of making this a boring, personal diary type blog. I will, however, blame my absence on two factors- one of which is a genuine concern and the other... well... really isn't. You can guess which is which-
A) The Redness has never came through on the promised template update which would obviously inspire me to create.
B) I've been really freaking busy, which is a huge change and would be a good thing except I spend all my time working on really small, petty issues. It's almost like I'm trapped in some weird TV pilot inspired by Seinfeld and The Office, only not funny.
For example, like every semester at Methodist College, I am forced to take at least a half-hour out of my day consistently to go wait in line at the registrar's office, work on my rant for the day, and tear into some incompetent, low-wage office assistant until they give me what I want. The most frustrating (yet only successful) episode went like this:
Wednesday, January 4th
(Switching to Prose) I pick up my class schedule for the upcoming semester from my golf coach/ academic advisor. As expected, he did not spend the required time looking at what actual requirements I need to graduate in the near future, resulting in a non-sensical assortment of non-necessary classes at inconvenient times. Rather than wait till the following Monday, which is registration day, I attempt to preempt the rush by carefully examining my remaining requirements, a list of available classes, and my other commitments to come up with some sort of workable schedule that fills all my requirements. The only solution involves a couple of night classes (adding another $1200 to my bill) and a plethora of drop-add slips. I fill the required paperwork out and make my way to the registrar's office to turn them in.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'd like to turn these drop-add slips in so I can be placed in the classes I need for graduation."
"I'm sorry, we can't accept schedule changes right now, if you come back first thing Monday morning we can get them processed for you."
"Are you sure I can't turn them in now? When I come back Monday the classes I need will be filled up and I'll be locked out. I just looked through the most recent class list and all these classes have openings right now. Can't you just put me in them now?"
"I'm sorry, we really aren't changing classes until Monday. Come back first thing and I promise we'll get you in what you need."
"Look at my face! You remember who I am! I'll be back here Monday and this will be fucked up! I guarantee it!"
I storm out and call my coach to tell him that the registrar won't accept my schedule. He is also pissed.
"They won't accept them? That's ridiculous! Give them to me and I'll make sure they get in first thing Monday morning!"
I spend the next four days sitting in a plastic chair for ten hours at a time for PGA checkpoint. PGA checkpoint is a worthless assortment of tests and seminars that attempt to weed out the less-than-committed through attrition. I may have passed, but they still won. I definitely feel dumber for the experience, and my discontent as a golf pro is at a new high.
I wake up Monday morning and call my coach.
"Coach man, what's the word?"
"I got you in all but one of your classes. When I dropped you from symbolic logic and went to switch you into Intro to Philosophy (Yes, these are the classes I need to graduate- Intro to Philosophy, introductory Biology, Music Appreciation, Computer Science 100, History 101, CPR, and two business classes- pathetic) it was filled up. I tried to put you back into Symbolic Logic, but it filled up too. You're going to have to go track down one of the profs and get signed in."
I head back up to the registrar. I'm in luck, the girl from Wednesday is working the desk.
"Do you remember me? I'm back, and my schedule is fucked up EXACTLY like I said it would be. "
"You're going to have to find the head of the Philosophy Department and get him to sign you into the class, that's the only way I can put you in that class."
One serious personality disorder that I have is that after a point I enjoy arguing and being combative instead of being reasonable. This is one of those times. It isn't even about my schedule anymore, I just want to make this an issue.
"I'm not doing anything. I told you this would happen, I tried to be pro-active and get it done ahead of time, and you guys fucked it up. I'm not going to leg it all over campus to track down some prof who might not sign me in. YOU are putting me in that class or I'm just going to go over your head to the dean like last time when you tried to block me out of the computer science challenge test." (Previous record: Justin- 1, Registrar-0. The dean loves me.)
"Hold on, let me go talk to the registrar."
Twenty minutes later I get called back to the office of the head registrar. She's angry and thinks she can intimidate me.
"Listen young man, you can't barge in and yell at my staff like that. You need to follow the policies or I'll see to it that you never graduate!"
I really just don't even care anymore. I hate this college. I want to transfer.
"Look, I went out of my way to make this not a problem. This isn't the first time you've screwed me on something and I'm not jumping through endless hoops anymore. I tried to make this easy because I knew your staff is incompetent. I tried to resolve this before I left last spring, and I came in a week ago because I knew you'd fuck it up. I'll go to the dean, I really don't care anymore."
I hate to just end the story like this, but that was really it. She put me in the class and I left. I walked over to the business office to pay for my night class.
"I need to pay for my night class."
"Actually, it appears you have a $5,700 credit on your account. I'll just take it off that... sign here..."
"No, that's wrong. I don't have a $5,700 credit on my account. Check again."
"I just did. It really looks like you do. I think you're mistaken."
"I'm not, but just leave it. Send me a bill when you figure it out, I'm not arguing with you on this."
"Hold on! Wait! Let me call..."
It's too late, I'm already gone. I got the bill in my mailbox the next day.
I really didn't intend to drag it out that long, but I think writing it helped my cope, so you can just suffer through it. I did. I have more of these unfortunately...
A) The Redness has never came through on the promised template update which would obviously inspire me to create.
B) I've been really freaking busy, which is a huge change and would be a good thing except I spend all my time working on really small, petty issues. It's almost like I'm trapped in some weird TV pilot inspired by Seinfeld and The Office, only not funny.
For example, like every semester at Methodist College, I am forced to take at least a half-hour out of my day consistently to go wait in line at the registrar's office, work on my rant for the day, and tear into some incompetent, low-wage office assistant until they give me what I want. The most frustrating (yet only successful) episode went like this:
Wednesday, January 4th
(Switching to Prose) I pick up my class schedule for the upcoming semester from my golf coach/ academic advisor. As expected, he did not spend the required time looking at what actual requirements I need to graduate in the near future, resulting in a non-sensical assortment of non-necessary classes at inconvenient times. Rather than wait till the following Monday, which is registration day, I attempt to preempt the rush by carefully examining my remaining requirements, a list of available classes, and my other commitments to come up with some sort of workable schedule that fills all my requirements. The only solution involves a couple of night classes (adding another $1200 to my bill) and a plethora of drop-add slips. I fill the required paperwork out and make my way to the registrar's office to turn them in.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'd like to turn these drop-add slips in so I can be placed in the classes I need for graduation."
"I'm sorry, we can't accept schedule changes right now, if you come back first thing Monday morning we can get them processed for you."
"Are you sure I can't turn them in now? When I come back Monday the classes I need will be filled up and I'll be locked out. I just looked through the most recent class list and all these classes have openings right now. Can't you just put me in them now?"
"I'm sorry, we really aren't changing classes until Monday. Come back first thing and I promise we'll get you in what you need."
"Look at my face! You remember who I am! I'll be back here Monday and this will be fucked up! I guarantee it!"
I storm out and call my coach to tell him that the registrar won't accept my schedule. He is also pissed.
"They won't accept them? That's ridiculous! Give them to me and I'll make sure they get in first thing Monday morning!"
I spend the next four days sitting in a plastic chair for ten hours at a time for PGA checkpoint. PGA checkpoint is a worthless assortment of tests and seminars that attempt to weed out the less-than-committed through attrition. I may have passed, but they still won. I definitely feel dumber for the experience, and my discontent as a golf pro is at a new high.
I wake up Monday morning and call my coach.
"Coach man, what's the word?"
"I got you in all but one of your classes. When I dropped you from symbolic logic and went to switch you into Intro to Philosophy (Yes, these are the classes I need to graduate- Intro to Philosophy, introductory Biology, Music Appreciation, Computer Science 100, History 101, CPR, and two business classes- pathetic) it was filled up. I tried to put you back into Symbolic Logic, but it filled up too. You're going to have to go track down one of the profs and get signed in."
I head back up to the registrar. I'm in luck, the girl from Wednesday is working the desk.
"Do you remember me? I'm back, and my schedule is fucked up EXACTLY like I said it would be. "
"You're going to have to find the head of the Philosophy Department and get him to sign you into the class, that's the only way I can put you in that class."
One serious personality disorder that I have is that after a point I enjoy arguing and being combative instead of being reasonable. This is one of those times. It isn't even about my schedule anymore, I just want to make this an issue.
"I'm not doing anything. I told you this would happen, I tried to be pro-active and get it done ahead of time, and you guys fucked it up. I'm not going to leg it all over campus to track down some prof who might not sign me in. YOU are putting me in that class or I'm just going to go over your head to the dean like last time when you tried to block me out of the computer science challenge test." (Previous record: Justin- 1, Registrar-0. The dean loves me.)
"Hold on, let me go talk to the registrar."
Twenty minutes later I get called back to the office of the head registrar. She's angry and thinks she can intimidate me.
"Listen young man, you can't barge in and yell at my staff like that. You need to follow the policies or I'll see to it that you never graduate!"
I really just don't even care anymore. I hate this college. I want to transfer.
"Look, I went out of my way to make this not a problem. This isn't the first time you've screwed me on something and I'm not jumping through endless hoops anymore. I tried to make this easy because I knew your staff is incompetent. I tried to resolve this before I left last spring, and I came in a week ago because I knew you'd fuck it up. I'll go to the dean, I really don't care anymore."
I hate to just end the story like this, but that was really it. She put me in the class and I left. I walked over to the business office to pay for my night class.
"I need to pay for my night class."
"Actually, it appears you have a $5,700 credit on your account. I'll just take it off that... sign here..."
"No, that's wrong. I don't have a $5,700 credit on my account. Check again."
"I just did. It really looks like you do. I think you're mistaken."
"I'm not, but just leave it. Send me a bill when you figure it out, I'm not arguing with you on this."
"Hold on! Wait! Let me call..."
It's too late, I'm already gone. I got the bill in my mailbox the next day.
I really didn't intend to drag it out that long, but I think writing it helped my cope, so you can just suffer through it. I did. I have more of these unfortunately...
posted by Justin at 10:13 PM 
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