So for the past three weeks I've been hounded by my parents about enrollment and tuition and whether or not I've got my class schedule for next semester taken care of. I personally have been wondering about it as well, because, after all, this is my future career we're talking about here and this is really, really important to me.
Never mind that there are other issues in my life and never mind that people are asking me about my social life as well. I'm one tracked right now, and all I care about is my education and what I'm going to be doing after I graduate with yet another degree-- hopefully more useful than the last one.
"I'll take care of it," I've been telling my parents. "I've been accepted into the program, and I've paid my deposit for a seat. They have to let me enroll, no matter what." I didn't tell my parents that the current head of the department also told me that a lot of this stuff would be taken care of within the couple weeks after and before semester.
My parents, of course, only want results now.
"I've been in contact with her (the department head)," I tell my parents. "We're working on it." Okay, so it was a bit of a fib, but whatever anyone says, I have been in contact with the department head and I am slowly, but surely, working on it. It's just not working the way they (or even I for the matter) have been expecting it.
So in order to not feel like an ass for forgetting a lot of what I've been told about the enrollment process, I figure I would call out to the department and get word for word how it's all going to work. In which case, I can then relay to my parents that everything is going as planned and that there is no need to worry at all about anything... yet.
Of course, even though I'm a bit lax about this whole situation, I've had those moments where I'm panicking as well, thinking that I've been forgotten. After all, my acceptance letter hadn't been sent to me when all the other letters were sent out and I got a little worried that my second letter might have gotten mixed up again.
So I call...
"Well, what happened was, I was in a car wreck and I've been out for a week..."
Okay, this was NOT what I expected to hear from someone I was about to get on about forgetting about me.
"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you."
Double shit...
And then I commence my apologies for anything and everything I can think of that I may or may not have done wrong to this woman. I'm sorry for calling you at this time. I'm sorry if I'm rushing you. I'm sorry for bothering you. I had no idea. I'm sorry about what happened. I'm so, so, so sorry that I'm even living and breathing and giving you a hard time. Please accept my humble apologies because I don't deserve to live anymore.
And while I'm here apologizing, she's trying to rant about the new department head's decision to change all the schedules and flip flop things that shouldn't be touched. And I really should be listening because I already screwed up by assuming that I'd been forgotten and I was a little peeved...
Well... things will be worked out indeed. But before that, I think I need to go on a bit of a shopping trip to find this current department head a massive apology/thank you gift.
Because right now, I feel like the world's biggest ass.
I shall commence lamenting and try to repent my sins by offering sacrifices of my own blood, fat, and other bodily fluids that may help mankind out. Organ donations can be signed for at the front desk, but none are being distributed until I actually kick the bucket and die in my freak accident.
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