...

Nov. 11th, 2008 01:29 pm
jitterbug: (Default)
last semester CSI blocked my registration and informed me that i owe them $507 from the spring '05 semester. after hours spent on the phone with bursar the stop was removed so that i could register. no one was able to tell me what i owe the money for or why it took 3 years for it to show up on my bill.

fast forward to this semester. the balance is on my bill. i can't register. my loan checks are placed on a "do not mail" list. this morning i spend 2.5 hours walking back and forth between bursar and the financial aid office.
- bursar doesn't knows why the checks weren't sent to me on october 22nd.
- bursar still doesn't have a clear explanation for what the $507 balance is, how it ended up on my bill, or why it took 3 years for it to show up.
- financial aid can't help me because their system does not go back that far [and i have to listen to a 10 minute rant about how it's bursar's job to figure this out].
- financial aid super secret special counselors are a staff meeting. indefinitely.

in so many words i'm told that even if they do figure this out, even if this is mistake, it'll take forever to investigate and clean-up. read: you are stuck paying this. sorry. have a nice day.

the woman i was talking to at bursar is holding my loan checks in her hands as she informs me that she'll be happy to break my balance into payment plans. she can do $100 a month. i tell her i can't do $100 a month, it's too much of a financial strain. how about $50? she says -- "well, you have all this loan money right here. why not use it to pay your balance?" it takes a second to process that this twatwaffle has now taken on the role of my financial adviser. i tell her that i don't think it's her job to allocate my money. she graces me with something between a fake apology and a smirk. more useless exchange follows. over and over she tells me how bad she feels for me in a tone of voice that connotes that "feel" is a word she periodically looks up in the dictionary in order to brush up on the definition. we say our goodbyes and as i'm about to walk away, she looks at me through 5 inches of dirty plexiglas and says -- "go buy yourself something cheap, small, and pretty. it'll cheer you up. have a nice day."

what.a.cunt.

...

Jul. 22nd, 2008 01:09 am
jitterbug: (khf - for.sleep's.sake)
for the zillionth time, today i was reminded of my inability to connect with the majority of the human race. oddly, this reminder was served by 5 different strangers who decided to strike up convesation[s?] with me. trains, streets, stores, parks -- hello! wheredidyougtyourshoes yourbabyisbeautiful doyouhavealight it'sawfullyhotout isthatanambernecklace. they make small talk appear effortless, enjoyable even, while i'm either struggling for words or planning my get-away. ugh. the upside is that rare conversation that falls right into place. i love it.

my feet are killing me from walking downtown from 34th street. anything to avoid a rush hour subway station. that aside, elly and i had a long, fun, busy day.

ian and i had a fight. sometimes i want to pack my bags and leave. i always end up feeling dirty when i blog about any negativity in our relationship, so i never bother.

my eye is twitching. i'm not going to buy a pack of smokes. i'm not going to buy a pack of smokes. maybe i am . it's that kind of night.

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