This past week I became curious about my status at A&M since I never heard from them. Now, I totally understand that we are not moving. It doesn’t matter what they say. I am not going back there. At least, not anytime soon. But, it just felt so…unfinished. I don’t like unfinished. I don’t do well with unfinished. I need my little bows tied onto my life experiences. (Sure, you may call it closure. I call it “my little bows” on life.)
As I was sorting through the mail of the week, deciding what to toss that should’ve been tossed as soon as it was delivered, I again began to ponder what the status was. Then I saw it. Looming among the grocery store flyers and the carpet cleaning specials. The official looking letter with the return address of Texas A&M University. Suddenly, I didn’t want to know. I mean, if they told me that they wanted me and I classes were about to start, then I would be sad that I am not there. But what if…I mean what if I got a letter that said “Thanks, but no thanks you old slacker mom who has been going to school longer than most of our students have been alive!” That just wouldn’t be a joyful moment, my friends.
Dear Jennifer….blah blah blah….appreciate your interest in A&M blah blah blah…after careful consideration of all* of your coursework, it has been decided to deny your application for readmission at this time….. blah blah blah
What? WHAT?! What do you mean you are denying me? I’m a good person! I have a 3.8 GPA! People like me. Why would you deny me? *sob sob*
So I did what any emotional woman who is overreacting would do. I called them up to cry at them. After going through hoops to get to the person who was the meanie-head that put the large, red, ugly DENY on my file and going through the preliminary questions to make sure the crazy person calling them was really and truly me, our conversation went something like this:
Mean Lady at A&M: “What can I help you with today, Ma’am.”
Me: “Don’t try to play nice. Why don’t you like me? *sob sob* I’m a good person.”
Mean Lady: “Excuse me? I am sure you are a good person. What can I help you with?”
Me: “It’s just that I don’t understand why you would tell me that you don’t want me to come back to school there. Why, oh why, did you stamp that ugly red DENY word on my file? I think that was just mean! *blubbering sob*”
Mean Lady: “Well, we are not in the habit of denying admissions based on the “Just Being Mean” policy. Let me look at your file.”
Me: *sniff sniff* “Okay. But you’ll just see that I am nice and smart and have a good GPA.”
I hear her typing away. Typing stops. *long pause*
Mean Lady: “It seems that you have been to quite a few schools.”
Me: “Yes. *sniff* I am well rounded. And we’ve moved a lot. I have kids, you know. They like me.”
Mean Lady: “Yes, well. Ummmm….you have a lot of hours here.”
Me: “I am well educated.”
Mean Lady: “No. I mean you have A LOT of hours.”
Me: “Your point?”
Mean Lady: “ A LOT of hours. I am not sure I have seen this many hours for someone who has not graduated yet. I mean, you have a lot. You don’t have your degree yet? This is a lot of hours.”
Me: “OKAY. I get that you are blown away by my hours. So you can see that my education has not been limited by the confines of a rigidly set structure of classes that would keep my knowledge boxed into one particular field. And I have a good GPA. And I really am a nice person. *sniff sniff*”
Mean Lady: “But you see, you have too many hours. A lot of hours. We just wouldn’t know where to put you.”
Me: “Wouldn’t know where to put me? Try any school there. I want to graduate. I just really want to graduate before my son. He is 11, you know. He is gaining on me and I am losing precious time here.”
Mean Lady: “How can I put this? You have too many hours to be readmitted. Seriously, lady, you have enough to have two degrees by now. You should’ve graduated with all these hours.”
Me: “But don’t some of those hours fall off the list eventually. I mean, some of them are from the 80’s for goodness sakes! Nothing should be held against you from the 80’s. I am pretty sure that is a law.”
Mean Lady: “Perhaps. But not this many. No. You have too many hours.”
Me: *pause* “So let me get this straight. I have a good GPA. Higher than required. I have nothing in my transcipts that would cause you to run fleeing for the hills in fear of the disaster I could bring upon your school. The only thing you are holding against me is that I have learned too much? Am I right on that? You are offended that I have learned too much to come to your school?”
Mean Lady: “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. But I suppose you could say that.”
Me: “Well, I am back to thinking that’s just mean.”
Mean Lady: “You could try the school of agriculture. They may take you with that many hours.”
Me: “Agriculture? Agriculture?! What in my many hours tells you that I would want to go to the school of agriculture.”
Mean Lady: “Well, you do have a lot of hours.”
Me: “Well, I think you are mean. And you’re predjudice against people with a lot of education. You’re an Hours Snob. And I am SO going to blog you for this!”
Mean Lady: “You’re going to ‘what me’ for this?”
Me: “See! If you were as educated as I am you would know what I meant! So there.”
*They emphasized the word “all” in the letter. Even in the letter they were appalled by how many hours I had.
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