I applied for graduation the other day and I had to bring a copy of my records to the records office.
Actually it was more ridiculous than that. I had to print my own records (off their website using their computer and paper) then I had to go to the department head so he could look at my records with me and declare that I've taken all 8 classes needed to graduate with a fancy-schmancy certificate. This information was already on the paper I had, but he printed up another sheet with the same information and sent me back to the records office. There, a lovely woman with the customer service skills of a chupacabra, pointed at the wall and sent me back to the computer to print...you guessed it...another two sheets of paper with the same friggin' information.
Are you kidding me?
Here I am, six sheets of paper in, in what's supposed to be a paper-free society by now. It's 2011! I'm printing the information off the schools computer, off the schools website, they have it all in digital format. Why am I wasting all this paper to tell you what you already know!!!!!
And that's not even it. For the certificate program I needed to do a Co-op. You know, work experience. I think you have to do 400 hours or something. Now, I worked in food my whole life practically. When I wasn't on stage I was slinging frozen yogurt, making cakes, serving assholes. From the age of 19 until just after I turned 37. Since then, as you may be aware, I've been The Headbanging Hostess. So, I'm pretty sure somewhere in those 18 years, I worked 400 hours. But simply printing my resume on a piece of paper, supplying them with a letter for my former boss at TCBY and writing an essay wasn't enough to prove that I deserve credit for life experience. No. I had to put together this ridiculous portfolio with web shots and pictures and blog posts and a DVD. All this so a bunch of academics can sit around and congratulate themselves for recognizing (through my lovely portfolio) my achievements in the food service industry.
An industry I have zero interest in being a part of, by the way.
Here I am, two months away from graduation, still without a crystal plan for what I'm doing here. I've received only slightly more than zero guidance at school and I'm afraid it'll all be over before I've figured out anything meaningful.
There lies the rub.