This morning I watched our receptionist sit on the phone for 10 minutes with some woman who kept saying "Harvard is the gold standard". Ironically, neither one of us thinks she's going to apply. In fact, she said as much, but somehow talking about it and going through her resume with a complete stranger is very much so satisfying for some people. Mostly people in Florida because they're going to die soon anyway so they might as well announce it to the world. At any rate, the entire exchange reminded me of some of my more rememorable moments here in the JD Admissions Office. Namely, a few weeks ago when some woman called me and talked to me for 30 minutes about her child and life in general. I'm not sure I'm exactly qualified to give advice to a 32 year old woman with a baby, but by golly I did my best. I'm also reminded of yesterday when some middle schooler called to discuss a "project" that she had to do. As per the request of a friend, I shall recreate the conversation below.
"Hello, JD Admissions."
"Hi...."
*pause*
"Hi."
"I'm doing a, uh, a project, or something, on college and I need to interview someone."
"K."
"So... can I ask you some questions?" *chewing noises*
"Well, this is a graduate office. I'd be happy to help you out, but if the project is for a college, I could transfer you to the undergraduate admissions office."
*more chewing noises* "No that's alright. I chose Harvard Law School."
"Well go ahead then."
"What are the mi...ni..mum, like, stan....standards for getting into, um, law school?"
"Well I can only speak for Harvard, but we require an undergraduate degree from an accredited college. That's pretty much the only thing we require."
"Okay." *chewing* "Does knowing Latin help with law school?"
"I'm sorry?"
*chewing*
"You're asking if knowing Latin helps with law school. Now."
"Yeah."
"Um. Only insofar in that it helps with the basic understanding of romance languages. Or if, you know, speak Latin in your everyday life."
"Oh. Can I have your name? I have to have a name to *chewing and maybe swallowing* attach to my project."
"It's Meg."
"What?"
"Megan."
"Okay. Thank....you."
"Righty-o."
So now she's going to learn Latin and I have, yet, again, improved the life of some naive child. Go me. AND I saw the crazy man who jumped on my marzipan bunny yesterday in the Square again. I made a stangled noise of fear and scampered away. Bunny killer. www.savetoby.com
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Crazy people love me!!
Work was uneventfully crap today, so the real prize o' Tuesday came post work as I meandered toward Harvard Square to spend a rainy hour before meeting with some of my peeps for dinner. What do I meet as I saunter through Cambridge Commons but two college boys dressed in suits! I'm not sure whether it's a regional thing of where I'm from (i.e. sunny places) or if my parents taught it to me, but Liz once told me that I have an uncommon way of paying attention to people on the street. She's from New York so, though she's an awesomely nice person, she tends to blow by people in an effort to not interact with the crazies. I, on the other hand, lend my cell phone to strangers, let homeless kiss me on the cheek (just that once though), and have conversations with haggard men on the T with a guitar saying stuff like, "If someone's not my friend, I fuck them up!!" That was good times. So when two nicely dressed young men come up to me and catch my eye, I then remove my headphones to see what they're trying to sell me. This time, Mormonism.
I have a thing about proselytizing. It kinda pisses me off. My personal beliefs on religion are somewhat complicated and I usually don't care to explain them to people whom I'm not friends with. That notwithstanding, I just can't be mean to Mormons. I'm always afraid they'll cry or something. Thus, it was my own conscience that coerced me into listening to the story of Joseph Smith. I even tried to stave off their excitement, due to the fact that I had not automatically ignored them, by saying both that I have Mormon friends (read: mistake - all Mormons know each other and now they're going to talk to the Mormons I do know and say that their bestest friend in the whole world was spoken to today - that could be awkward if I, you know, ever see them again) and that I am Southern Baptist. Southern Baptists, as a rule, scare the pants off of most other religions. I should know, my mother is Southern Baptist and went to church every single day in her youth. This did not faze my new friends in the least. At any rate, after a full explanation of Utah and it's many exciting Mormon features, I was offered a *free* Bible of the Church of Latter-day Saints, which I politely declined with a "I'll stick with what I've got, thanks" and received a Mormon business card - Joseph Smith rocks the technology. I exaunted with cheerful "Mormonism is so friendly!"
I wish this were my only story today, but it gets "better". By better I mean that I got to meet up with Lola and Stephanie at the Pit in Harvard Square. Stephanie gave us nummy chocolate covered marzipan for Easter and then, joy of joys, my crazy beacon went off again. Some dude came up and asked for 50 cents. I didn't have 50 cents. Even if I did, I wouldn't be giving it to his ghetto ass, I'd be saving that for sweet sweet T tokens. But since Lola and I were protectively placing our nice chocolate in our pockets at the time he said "What are you hiding?" Chocolate, jackass. "Oh! Is there a church giving it out or something?" After ensuring him that Jesus loved no one enough to give out free chocolate, I *gave him my chocolate* to get him the hell away from us. As we quickly left, I saw the chocolate marzipan bunny come flying through the air near us, followed quickly by the crazy man smashing it to pieces on the cold, wet ground. I am never walking near the Pit again. Ever. Lola swears she recognizes him. Lola, you know some f***ed up people.
I have a thing about proselytizing. It kinda pisses me off. My personal beliefs on religion are somewhat complicated and I usually don't care to explain them to people whom I'm not friends with. That notwithstanding, I just can't be mean to Mormons. I'm always afraid they'll cry or something. Thus, it was my own conscience that coerced me into listening to the story of Joseph Smith. I even tried to stave off their excitement, due to the fact that I had not automatically ignored them, by saying both that I have Mormon friends (read: mistake - all Mormons know each other and now they're going to talk to the Mormons I do know and say that their bestest friend in the whole world was spoken to today - that could be awkward if I, you know, ever see them again) and that I am Southern Baptist. Southern Baptists, as a rule, scare the pants off of most other religions. I should know, my mother is Southern Baptist and went to church every single day in her youth. This did not faze my new friends in the least. At any rate, after a full explanation of Utah and it's many exciting Mormon features, I was offered a *free* Bible of the Church of Latter-day Saints, which I politely declined with a "I'll stick with what I've got, thanks" and received a Mormon business card - Joseph Smith rocks the technology. I exaunted with cheerful "Mormonism is so friendly!"
I wish this were my only story today, but it gets "better". By better I mean that I got to meet up with Lola and Stephanie at the Pit in Harvard Square. Stephanie gave us nummy chocolate covered marzipan for Easter and then, joy of joys, my crazy beacon went off again. Some dude came up and asked for 50 cents. I didn't have 50 cents. Even if I did, I wouldn't be giving it to his ghetto ass, I'd be saving that for sweet sweet T tokens. But since Lola and I were protectively placing our nice chocolate in our pockets at the time he said "What are you hiding?" Chocolate, jackass. "Oh! Is there a church giving it out or something?" After ensuring him that Jesus loved no one enough to give out free chocolate, I *gave him my chocolate* to get him the hell away from us. As we quickly left, I saw the chocolate marzipan bunny come flying through the air near us, followed quickly by the crazy man smashing it to pieces on the cold, wet ground. I am never walking near the Pit again. Ever. Lola swears she recognizes him. Lola, you know some f***ed up people.
Monday, March 28, 2005
*Thumb smushing motion*
And so my weekend. Oh, Boston, how you toy with my emotions. Friday afternoon I was aflutter cause it was Frizziday and my supervisor wasn't there so I could, you know, do stuff I wasn't supposed to. Like pause in my filing. At any rate, I am finishing my day by quickly jotting down my somewhat paltry time card for the week (temping is fun AND dislucrative!! - I know that's not a word, bitches). What do I hear as I write the number "21.5 hours" with a flourish? Why a rap tap tapping at the door! Thinking that someone left their coat or time card or....wait no one else has those except me. Bitches.
Anyway, I pop open the door and look somewhat startled because there is a mans standing outside the door in his suited finery. He queries, "Hello! I will be an applicant for the fall of 2006 and I was wondering what sort of information you could give me on the J.D. program?" *professional smile* Mind you, this would be less weird if it weren't 5:15 on a Friday afternoon, our window is closed, our door is locked and there's a general chill to the admissions wind.
"Well sir, we're closed right now, but there are some brochures that explain the program on the bookshelf to your left"
"Where?"
"Uhhhhhhh right there."
"Right, well, I just had some questions. Can you answer them for me?"
"Why don't I just snag one of those for you?"
"Yes, I see the brochure. Is the director here?"
"Uhhhhhhh. What? You know it's Friday right?" <-- desperation
"Yes, I was just hoping..."
"We're closed." <-- finality
"Is there anything else you can give me?"
"Let me just go see if we have a map or something," <-- depression
"Great!" *professional smile*
*look of death*
It took another 5 minutes, but he eventually left when I kept saying the word "NO!" to every thing he began to say. I was positive that an ambush was possible. He was very excited. I don't think I've hated someone that much in months. At any rate, the weekend was fairly unsurprising other than that. It was my triannual attempt to appreciate Woody Allen, so we went to go see "Melinda and Melinda" and I left feeling used yet again. I always get this sense that his stuff would belong so much better on stage. Ironically, the premise of the film was the comparison of life to comedy and tragedy and how two different script writers view it. So in reality their ideas would have implied a stage play instead of a cinematic feature so it makes a lot of sense ultimately Interestingly enough, no matter how many times I rationalize it and keep realizing how Woody Allen was quite clever about the whole thing, I still feel hella used.
Sunday was uneventfully Easter and I let Kitty root through some boxes as her present. And today I managed to sift through an entire bag of jelly bellies and eat all the lemon lime ones. There were some wayward green apple and a couple of unidentified, but I'm happy to say I made it safely through without getting any buttered popcorn. *shudder* So I ate like a pig today and had enough sugar to kill a small cow. Then I went to the gym, planned on running a few miles, ran one because I thought I was going to puke lemon lime jelly beans all over the dude next to me, and lifted weights. Then I declared myself a Fatty McsFatsalot to Richard and some sweaty man who I swear was wearing a sweatband and scampered home. Lean cuisine for dinner and nothing but cottage cheese for the rest of the week, I swear.
Anyway, I pop open the door and look somewhat startled because there is a mans standing outside the door in his suited finery. He queries, "Hello! I will be an applicant for the fall of 2006 and I was wondering what sort of information you could give me on the J.D. program?" *professional smile* Mind you, this would be less weird if it weren't 5:15 on a Friday afternoon, our window is closed, our door is locked and there's a general chill to the admissions wind.
"Well sir, we're closed right now, but there are some brochures that explain the program on the bookshelf to your left"
"Where?"
"Uhhhhhhh right there."
"Right, well, I just had some questions. Can you answer them for me?"
"Why don't I just snag one of those for you?"
"Yes, I see the brochure. Is the director here?"
"Uhhhhhhh. What? You know it's Friday right?" <-- desperation
"Yes, I was just hoping..."
"We're closed." <-- finality
"Is there anything else you can give me?"
"Let me just go see if we have a map or something," <-- depression
"Great!" *professional smile*
*look of death*
It took another 5 minutes, but he eventually left when I kept saying the word "NO!" to every thing he began to say. I was positive that an ambush was possible. He was very excited. I don't think I've hated someone that much in months. At any rate, the weekend was fairly unsurprising other than that. It was my triannual attempt to appreciate Woody Allen, so we went to go see "Melinda and Melinda" and I left feeling used yet again. I always get this sense that his stuff would belong so much better on stage. Ironically, the premise of the film was the comparison of life to comedy and tragedy and how two different script writers view it. So in reality their ideas would have implied a stage play instead of a cinematic feature so it makes a lot of sense ultimately Interestingly enough, no matter how many times I rationalize it and keep realizing how Woody Allen was quite clever about the whole thing, I still feel hella used.
Sunday was uneventfully Easter and I let Kitty root through some boxes as her present. And today I managed to sift through an entire bag of jelly bellies and eat all the lemon lime ones. There were some wayward green apple and a couple of unidentified, but I'm happy to say I made it safely through without getting any buttered popcorn. *shudder* So I ate like a pig today and had enough sugar to kill a small cow. Then I went to the gym, planned on running a few miles, ran one because I thought I was going to puke lemon lime jelly beans all over the dude next to me, and lifted weights. Then I declared myself a Fatty McsFatsalot to Richard and some sweaty man who I swear was wearing a sweatband and scampered home. Lean cuisine for dinner and nothing but cottage cheese for the rest of the week, I swear.
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