There only thing standing between me and a grubby little piece of paper saying I’ve received a Bachelor’s Degree is 20 credits. TWENTY. That’s five classes. I’m taking three of those this fall semester: Conflict Resolution, Organizational Behavior and (wait for it) The American Male. You like that third one, right?
I’m getting my degree from the College of Individualized Studies at Metro State University in St. Paul. What that means is I was able to go in and really customize my degree plan to things that I felt best fit into my area of concentration, which is Industrial and Organizational Psychology. Or I/O Psychology for those of you in the biz or those of you who just want to seem cool. My school offers a B.S. in Human Resource Management, but it required courses that caused me to break out in hives just by reading the titles: Macroeconomics, Microeconomics, College Algebra, Boring Spreadsheets III, How to Run Reports Nobody Will Care About, etc. I know how to do some of those and, for the rest, I just ask someone in another department to give me the answer. That’s how grown up jobs work, kids.
I’d originally selected a class called Psychological Testing. I wasn’t incredibly looking forward to it because it had proctored tests, which means actually going somewhere other than my couch to take a test and being super paranoid about the proctor standing over my should watching my every move. Or however that works.
Well, lo and behold, ONE WEEK before the semester was supposed to start, I happened to login to our Student Services portal to see that this Psychological Testing class has been dropped from my schedule. Did I mention it was one week before the semester was supposed to start? And did I mention that I have my next two semesters very specifically planned out? I know I definitely didn’t mention they didn’t notify me of this cancellation. That was my favorite part.
I emailed my advisor with a list of three options I felt would fit into my degree plan. He didn’t respond. The next day, I signed up for The American Male and emailed him to let him know that all the classes were filling up and there was no way in Hades I was going to push this out another semester. The third day, I emailed another person and left two voicemails, because HI, I MEAN BUSINESS. My advisor finally calls me back, says, “Wendy, you’re beating up on me today!” To which I respond with, “Here’s the thing, guy that reminds me from Stanley from The Office, we just need to wrap this up so I can graduate next semester. That’s all.” For some reason I’ll never quite understand and never really want to understand, he felt it appropriate to say, “Okay, okay, okay. You can spank me. I deserve it.”
Nope. Just nope. No, no, no.
But I got over it pretty quick because he okayed the change on my very detailed degree plan and all was well in the world until I had to go pick up my books and explain to them I already had to return two of them because the class cancelled. That took over an hour and I’m pretty sure they marked the wrong ones as returned, but hey, whatever.
This semester wraps up mid-December. My last semester will include Statistics and my required Capstone class. If I don’t wind up curled up in the fetal position eating the Statistics book for a midnight snack, I’ll finally be finished in May of 1996. That’s exactly 20 years after I graduated from high school.
That’s the stuff Aesop’s fables are made from right there, you guys.