So today I need to sign up for classes for next semester, and most of those classes require instructor consent to enroll. Normally I just send an e-mail to the powers that be asking permission, and magically I get it within a few days. Well, this semester I had a brain fart and forgot to send the e-mails. So I'm running from department to department today, getting the necessary approval by the dreaded face to face conversation. [Shudder]
The first teacher recognizes me on sight, jumps up from his desk ready to jot down my name on the permission form. This is the undergraduate director of a very large university. OMG. (He's also a lot like Richard Hatch from Survivor, only not gay in the slightest, and 20 times scarier. It's weird.) So after less than a minute, I'm enrolled.
The second teacher is actually a Graduate TA. Why Grad students get to teach senior seminars I'll never understand. Fortunately he was my lab TA for another class, so at least I know he's competent (if a little snotty). Weird side thought- I already know all my teachers this next semester. I've had them all for one thing or another. Remember, big university. This is a very weird occurrence (especially since I didn't do it on purpose). Anyway, back to the main topic. As it's a TA and not a Professor, his e-mail is not listed with the rest of the faculty on the school website! Ah! Plus he takes classes on a different campus, so I can't track him down in person even if I wanted to. So I figure I'll ask the head of his department who has given me career advice before. Naturally this person was out of his office for the day. Grrrrrr. So I wander into the department secretary/general office-type-area and ask the first person I see what I should do. This person says, "Oh, no problem! What was your name? I'll sign you right up."
Uh, okay.... What ever happened to scary, self-absorbed, evil New Yorkers? I think I stepped into the Twilight Zone meets the Deep South. I don't know how to handle this. I'm shaken to the core. Be bitchy people! Let me know what to expect from you! I like my delusions.
So then I find my final teacher and she nods, "Uh huh, ok" and types up an e-mail to the secretary giving me her permission.
And here I am, signing up for classes, and the only one I can't register for yet is the class that sent the permission via e-mail. Who knew talking to people was so productive? God, why have you forsaken me and my precious e-mail crutch? Am I actually suppossed to talk to people for the rest of my life?