If This is What it Takes...

I have been trying to sign up for and pay for one class for the last week and a half. ONE CLASS! In the process, I have had to visit the registrar three times, admissions once, and human resources once. I finally got it taken care of today- I think. This letter/rant is dedicated to the jerkface at the registrar's office who is apparently too cool to do his job.

Dear Registrar Jerkface,
You are lucky you did not get a stiletto up your nose today. Yes, I am a girl. Yes, I could kick your ass from here to next Tuesday. Is it really that hard to process my request the first time I come to visit you? I mean, maybe I stuttered but really, how hard is it to hear "my husband is a full time, contracted, tenure track professor. Do you need his ID number?" Really that is all the information you should have needed to process my tuition waiver. Please do not tell me that we are not married. I beg to differ. If we are not married, whose socks have I been picking up off the floor for the last four and a half years?

Also, I know how to tell time. I have known this since I was what...six? Please do not tell me that I have not wasted my life away waited in line for over 30 minutes because, yes, between last week and today I have stood in your stupid line for almost 45 minutes to get the same ONE thing taken care of. I guess you don't think I have better things to do. Well, let us get this straight- I do. The papers will not grade themselves, the student teachers will not observe themselves, the book will not read itself, the grocery shopping will not do itself, and well, you get the picture.

There was also no need to smirk and talk to me like I was three. If you want to judge me for signing up for graduate classes, go right ahead. I am sorry you are living in 1954 where women are expected to stay home with the kiddos while Daddy goes off to work. What a lovely picture, you can go watch it on TV Land as I hear they are still airing The Dick Van Dyke Show. I, for one, don't have any kiddos running around. And that is beside the point anyway. I am a fairly intelligent individual and am pretty confident that I could handle at least one class, work, and kiddos (and I could probably also manage to wrangle said kiddos up in the Wal-Mart parking lot so as they do not get run over). Maybe that is because my husband, the aforementioned tenure track professor, is capable of fixing said future kiddos dinner (even if it is just grilled cheese, or macaroni and cheese, or crackers and cheese, or some other cheese related meal) and entertaining them for a couple hours once a week. But then again, you would probably judge him too. Your snarky tone did nothing but tick me off. It did not discourage me from signing up for a class. I am also fairly confident that I could out-snark you anyday. You would leave in tears, probably pulling a stiletto out of your nose.

I hope you enjoy your work study job sitting in the window at the registrar's office. And I also hope that my little form declaring that I am married to my husband- the man with the SAME last name living at the SAME address as I- gave you a paper cut.

Sincerely,
The girl that wears stilettos in the snow

P.S. It is amazing that, the second I got to speak with her, the real live grownup at the next window was able to take care of this little problem in a fairly expedited way.