Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Fun with Undergrads: In which we learn I am not really a "people person"

Oh my, oh my, oh my. Sometimes, I am ever-so-patient with the legions of undergraduates that insist upon populating my campus. Other times, not so much. While doing my token paper-pusher job for student services at The Zoo, I've rapidly decelerated from "Yeah! I heart the young 'uns! Let's mentor! Lollipops for everyone!" ....right on into "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here"

Sidenote: Regrettably, not a real zoo. Its actually more of a paper-pushing, no-work-doing, pit of despair for student services at NoSchool's undergrad. You can't feed the animals, though, and there's a lot of poop-flinging. Sometimes, there's popcorn.

Anyway: maybe it is finals, but criminy. Self-sufficiency? Not so much a strong suit with this bunch.

They can't find the copier (behind you, genius). They can't work the copier (blank stare. There are some problems even I cannot fix). They mumble, and then look at you like you're an idiot when you make them repeat it (You are not that special. I have lots of time. Speak like a human.) They look at me like I am an old lady (Law school ages you like presidency and cigarettes, kids. Look out.) They scratch themselves in x-rated places (ew.)

They don't understand what my Shrivel and Dye Evil Eye (TM) means. A loose translation?

To the boy with the child-sized pink umbrella: It's not ironic if you actually are a child. Call me when you can vote.

To the bouncy man-peach in the vinyl vest: Those pants would look better on me. Also, yes, your friends DO hate you. That's why they are late to your study session. Get a grip, turbo.

To the girl who is, OMG, so, like, stressed, about her eight page paper: I hate you.

Finally, to the one who took the last Reeses out of my candy bowl: I know where you study. I control the radio. Do not cross me.

Clearly, I need to work on my communication skills.

Word to the wise: "easy" job at Student Services? Not worth it. People might want you to help them: and Internet, you know how I feel about helping.

PS: I cannot feed anyone to a lion. I asked.


Virgin In The Volcano said...

I can feed everyone to a lion. Trick is, don't ask.

Thanks for the fun post, btw. A great way to avoid my outlining.

Lawful Lady said...

oh i heart you. "Law school ages you like presidency and cigarettes, kids. Look out." I put that as my facebook status. thanks a bunch!

Amanda said...

:) Once more reason why I'm glad there aren't any undergrads on campus. Granted, that does mean all-law students, all-the time...I don't know which is worse...

Philosofya said...

This makes me feel lucky I do not have undergrads on campus. Then again, the law folks ain't much better. They got bigger words but still act like retards, which means they're even harder to understand and that I have to invest in a fucking dictionary.

Also, this post reminded me of when I briefly worked at my undergrad's library. I worked the reserve desk, which had a huge sign that said "Reserve desk" right on the counter and a bajillion other signs stating the same all over the floor. But still, inevitably, I'd get the "Is this the reserve desk" question each and every day at least once.

I feel your pain.

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson