This post is not to complain, but merely to tell you the psychotic story of how our little community college screwed up so damn badly, that I almost had a nervous breakdown.
What dost thou mean, Tow-Headed Monkey?
Why, I shall tell you, Reginald Kitty.
My algebra final was due yesterday, by 10:00 PM.
I was told by the testing proctor that our testing center was open from 3:30 to 9:00 on Mondays, so I figured I was pretty safe, so far as the time was concerned.
I studied my arse off all week, went in at 6:00 yesterday evening, and took my final.
I was just doing my final check over at around five minutes to eight, when Mrs. Lady says to me, "You do know that the testing center closes at 8 o'clock, right?"
"No, Ma'am, I was told you closed at 9 o'clock," I replied, politely.
"Well, do you mind if I go heat up my TV dinner? I was going to eat it when I got home, but..."
"That shouldn't be necessary, I'll be finished in a few minutes," I interrupt her, mid-spiel.
She sits, flipping through a shoe catalog as I hurriedly make sure all of the algebra evil is as good as I can make it.
Ten minutes later, I hand her my final, reminding her for the third time that it was due in by 10:00 that night.
"Don't worry, I'll do it right now, before I go home," she says to me, taking the staples out of the papers.
I tidy up my work area (there was a lot of litter from the eraser), gather my pencils (they're so extravagant here, let me tell you... if you don't bring your own, you're screwed), and prepare to leave. I purposefully do this as slowly as possible.
I run into Mrs. Lady in the hallway; she still has my exam in her hand, as she says, "I need to get that fax number out of the filing cabinet, you have a good night, now!"
"I'm sorry I kept you so late, Mrs. Lady, thanks so much, you, too."
As I left, I turned around to make sure she was doing her job. Yes, there she was, at the filing cabinet, getting the fax number. Just short of standing over her shoulder, I was quite confident that my final would be in by 10:00.
This morning, at 10:00 AM, ironically, I receive a call from Mrs. Lady.
The conversation went something like this...
Mrs. Lady : I reread the instructions for your final, and I need to send in the mid-term exam that you took home, as well as the final.
Me : Oh, I can drop that off within the hour, Mrs. Lady. You did go ahead and fax in my final, didn't you?
Mrs. L : No.
Me : ...............
I immediately send an e-mail to my instructor, and off I went to the college, prepared for a huge fight, and possibly loss of jobs, here. Hey, if I'm going down, I'm taking folks with me.
I had the hootspa to actually tell Mrs. Lady that my instructor, whom I shall refer to as Queen Bitch, has been incredibly unreasonable the entire semester, that she has been very rude to me, personally, she is so strict about her own rules that she cannot even follow them, and that Mrs. Lady's mistake had better not screw my grade, or I'm effed.
I stayed with Mrs. Lady as she tried to phone Queen Bitch. No answer, just a machine.
I give her QB's home phone number, which she doesn't even try... she can see I'm not going to leave without confirmation at this point, so she goes to her higher ups (to whom I also had the hootspa to say that QB was an unreasonable tit).
As Mrs. New Lady tries QB's home phone, Mrs. Lady goes to write an e-mail to QB.
Five minutes later, I'm told that this will not mess up my grade, and that the college takes full responsibility for an issue that was out of my control.
Fast forward to 10:15 tonight.
In response to the e-mail I sent to QB, which went something like this (names have been changed to protect the ignorant)...
Dear Queen Bitch,
I have just received a call from my testing proctor, Mrs. Immogene Lady, at the Moore County campus, telling me that she had not faxed in my final exam as of 10:00 this morning.
I had repeatedly told her that it was due in by 10:00 PM May 10th, and I handed in my copy of the final examination at 8:05 PM last night, telling Mrs. Lady that it was due by 10:00 PM.
I am sending this note in addition to an e-mail from Mrs. Lady herself, explaining the situation.
I hope this mix-up does not affect my final grade, as this issue was beyond my control, and I did everything within my power to make sure your rules were followed to the letter.
Archibald Heatherington Nastyface
I am granted an audience with Queen Bitch herself in the form of a very rare response to my letter, which went like this...
Everything is fine so relax. I am not finding page 3 of your test though, but do not panic. I will call her in the morning and get her to send it to me. She has probably already sent the hard copy through campus mail and I will probably get it tomorrow.
The moral of this story?
Algebra will kill you. So will algebra teachers.
Ricky The K's Solid Gold Time Machine
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