Thursday, February 4, 2010

An Open Letter to the Hateful Secretary on the Third Floor

Dear Hateful Woman,

Following our less-than-pleasant exchange yesterday I chose to vent my feelings of frustration and hurt in an open letter that you will likely never read, but others will laugh in mockery of your lack of character as I expose your faults herein, and, pathetic creature that I am, this will make me feel better. So much so, in fact, that I will not seek retribution in the form of an official complaint filed against you.

I realise you were enjoying the high that comes from the slightly over-full feeling of lunch when you found me in your office waiting. I also realise you were not anticipating finding me there. The surprise is forgivable. The accusatory, impatient tone in which you asked if you were the one I was waiting for is not. Yes, Administrative Assistant. I traipsed from beyond the opposite end of campus, caught in a moving crowd, forced to listen to a hardly adolescent girl painfully vie for the attention of two equally immature boys, up to the third floor of your building just to meet with you. Perhaps it is a lack of understanding, but do people often make appointments with you? I didn't think so.

Startled by your insipid reception I stated my intentions to meet with the administrator whom you are to assist. Again, rather than offer a reasonable or kind explanation the haughty, "He's not here. He's gone to meetings for the rest of the afternoon." Was all I received. I'm sorry, did my presence offend you? Had I done something to warrant such penurious treatment? Perhaps I am bias, but to the best of my knowledge I had done nothing either socially or communicatively errant. I had come to an office where I was told I could meet with an administrator. I came during a time I was told he would be available. I came prepared with information so that the meeting could be productive. And yes, I had showered that very morning.

From what egregious flaw did I illicit your callousness? The best I can figure is you are a hateful person, bless your heart. If I may be so bold, I dare offer some advice. Your official title, I believe, is that of "Administrative Assistant." I have searched many job listings for that very position. They are filled with descriptors such as, "pleasant", "welcoming", "helpful", "positive." None, dear woman, are applicable to you. Not to mention the root for the latter part of your title, "assist." To be plain, pack up your surly attitude and start doing your damn job. Otherwise, heaven help you if you ever seek alternate employment. With the affability you offer a corrections facility wouldn't begin to contemplate your employ.

Very Sincerely and Whole-Heartedly,

Sunday, January 31, 2010

The Bachelor Degree Part II

The day most people graduate with their degree from college is a happy day. They've survived. Time to enter the workforce. Time to quit being an economical suck and start getting their's.

The day I graduated was not a very good one. I remember it well. A darker spot in my not-so-recent-past. But never did I ever think I'd be going back. To school, yes. I've always been interested in graduate work. But for a second bachelor's degree? No way, no how.

Alas, here I am. Reapplied to SUU for a Bachelor of Arts in English: Teaching Emphasis. What I really wonder is if I'll be as good of a student as I was the first time around. I wasn't amazing by any means, but I fear I'll come off as jaded from having done this before. Humility. It's the new staple of my diet.