Gateway to Hell...
So, hubby is a bad driver. He has a lead foot and basically has a serious lack of concentration. He has a radar detector, but it's either quieter than his blaring talk radio or he just ignores it.
In the beginning of June he went to traffic court to try and save his driver's lisense after getting his umpteenth speeding ticket. The judge or whatever the hell she was gave him sixty days to enroll in a points reduction class and hubby who would've ordinarily said this class was going to be a waste of his time agreed to comply.
Unfortunately, in addition to being a bad driver, he is forgettful and a total procrastinator. His court is tomorrow...he called me at noon today to talk me into going down to Gateway to sign him up for the class.
Now, I have reminded and nagged at him about taking care of this for the last 59 days. I'd hoped he'd get on it. Alas, I got to be the one to walk into the Gateway student services center, after having not slept really at all for the last six days (something like a total of 16 hours over the last six days is all the sleep I've gotten) to deal with a system I appparently am just too retarded to understand while squinting...in the dim light and shaking heavily.
I stood in line at the fourth admissions desk (the other three bitches were apparently out to lunch) with no idea where I was supposed to be especially since hubby is not a real student. Point reduction is not a real class. I waited in this line for about thirty minutes behind a mother and her two Gateway bound children (how adorable) listening to the phone ring and go ignored. They did not pick up the phone once while I was there and I thought hubby was lying when he said no one was returning his phone calls.
Finally, I get to the front of the line just in time for the woman at the desk to put up her out-to-lunch sign and walk away from me as though I was clear and not standing right in front of her with an angry look on my face (this was the sort of look that could burn holes in human flesh). I was not amused and stated so, seeing as how I was the last person in the line. Bitch finally stepped back into place and helped me, telling me to fill out the top half of the form with hubby's information, the class number and then I should sign it at the bottom. She even offered me a pen.
I performed these tasks with my own pen when the one she gave stopped working and basically became nothing more than a weapon with which one could gauge their own eyes out, or someone else's while waiting in these ridiculous lines. But like I said, I had my own pen so I moved right along...until I got to the part where it wanted hubbys social security numer.
Am I supposed to know that? I imagine if I did it would just end up jumbled with all the other numbers in my head...and I wasn't about to write down what could be half my nazi grandmother's phone number and part credit card pin. So, I tried to call hubby...twice...to no avail. I said screw it and got in the registration line.
The woman at the desk was on the phone. I assume she had made this call as opposed to her having answered a call seeing as how they don't seem to know how to respond to a consistently ringing telelphone there at the technical college. She seemed perfectly pleasant though.
I waited for her to get off the phone for twenty minutes, fanning myself with the green registration form. Finally, a short brightly colored hispanic woman appeared in the next window. I thought she was my salvation at the other woman continued to flap her mouth at the phone. As my luck would have it though, this was not so much the case when I stepped over.
I asked her what I should do about not knowing hubby's social in its entirety (I know the last four but that's a bank account thing). She decided she was going to yell at me for having signed the form, telling me I couldn't do that. I told her the woman at the fourth admissions desk told me to. We then had to wait for the woman on the phone still flappin' her jaw so the hispanic troll could ask her if I could do that or not. Clearly, I had already done it and had been told to by the woman at the fourth admissions desk now disappeared to lunch. Woman on phone finally noticed she was needed and although did not end her conversation, merely put her hand over the phone and said that I could sign the form, which clearly I already had and had been told to do.
Hispanic troll then decided that she was going to further her bitch status by being snippy with me and telling me she would have to send hubby the paperwork through the mail as she is not allowed to give the information to anyone else (little did she know that just a mere four blocks away I was the one who opened hubby's mail). I needed proof he was enrolled for court tomorrow and she was not even being nice about being not helpful at all. She wasn't even going to give me a receipt for the check I clearly wrote.
Finally I demanded the receipt, snatched it from her hand angerily and stormed out of the building.
In the beginning of June he went to traffic court to try and save his driver's lisense after getting his umpteenth speeding ticket. The judge or whatever the hell she was gave him sixty days to enroll in a points reduction class and hubby who would've ordinarily said this class was going to be a waste of his time agreed to comply.
Unfortunately, in addition to being a bad driver, he is forgettful and a total procrastinator. His court is tomorrow...he called me at noon today to talk me into going down to Gateway to sign him up for the class.
Now, I have reminded and nagged at him about taking care of this for the last 59 days. I'd hoped he'd get on it. Alas, I got to be the one to walk into the Gateway student services center, after having not slept really at all for the last six days (something like a total of 16 hours over the last six days is all the sleep I've gotten) to deal with a system I appparently am just too retarded to understand while squinting...in the dim light and shaking heavily.
I stood in line at the fourth admissions desk (the other three bitches were apparently out to lunch) with no idea where I was supposed to be especially since hubby is not a real student. Point reduction is not a real class. I waited in this line for about thirty minutes behind a mother and her two Gateway bound children (how adorable) listening to the phone ring and go ignored. They did not pick up the phone once while I was there and I thought hubby was lying when he said no one was returning his phone calls.
Finally, I get to the front of the line just in time for the woman at the desk to put up her out-to-lunch sign and walk away from me as though I was clear and not standing right in front of her with an angry look on my face (this was the sort of look that could burn holes in human flesh). I was not amused and stated so, seeing as how I was the last person in the line. Bitch finally stepped back into place and helped me, telling me to fill out the top half of the form with hubby's information, the class number and then I should sign it at the bottom. She even offered me a pen.
I performed these tasks with my own pen when the one she gave stopped working and basically became nothing more than a weapon with which one could gauge their own eyes out, or someone else's while waiting in these ridiculous lines. But like I said, I had my own pen so I moved right along...until I got to the part where it wanted hubbys social security numer.
Am I supposed to know that? I imagine if I did it would just end up jumbled with all the other numbers in my head...and I wasn't about to write down what could be half my nazi grandmother's phone number and part credit card pin. So, I tried to call hubby...twice...to no avail. I said screw it and got in the registration line.
The woman at the desk was on the phone. I assume she had made this call as opposed to her having answered a call seeing as how they don't seem to know how to respond to a consistently ringing telelphone there at the technical college. She seemed perfectly pleasant though.
I waited for her to get off the phone for twenty minutes, fanning myself with the green registration form. Finally, a short brightly colored hispanic woman appeared in the next window. I thought she was my salvation at the other woman continued to flap her mouth at the phone. As my luck would have it though, this was not so much the case when I stepped over.
I asked her what I should do about not knowing hubby's social in its entirety (I know the last four but that's a bank account thing). She decided she was going to yell at me for having signed the form, telling me I couldn't do that. I told her the woman at the fourth admissions desk told me to. We then had to wait for the woman on the phone still flappin' her jaw so the hispanic troll could ask her if I could do that or not. Clearly, I had already done it and had been told to by the woman at the fourth admissions desk now disappeared to lunch. Woman on phone finally noticed she was needed and although did not end her conversation, merely put her hand over the phone and said that I could sign the form, which clearly I already had and had been told to do.
Hispanic troll then decided that she was going to further her bitch status by being snippy with me and telling me she would have to send hubby the paperwork through the mail as she is not allowed to give the information to anyone else (little did she know that just a mere four blocks away I was the one who opened hubby's mail). I needed proof he was enrolled for court tomorrow and she was not even being nice about being not helpful at all. She wasn't even going to give me a receipt for the check I clearly wrote.
Finally I demanded the receipt, snatched it from her hand angerily and stormed out of the building.
posted by IvoryValentine at 5:44 PM
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