Postgrad blues

All last week I tried to register for classes and I was told I couldn't do anything until I had my Right to Study form, which I applied for last week by filling out another form and having my passport copied. I collected that form this morning at the International Student Center. They told me to go to the Student Union building (three blocks away) to register. Yay! Progress.

At the Student Union building, after waiting through my second long line of the day, I sat with a young (OK, they're all young) student who was to help me register. He couldn't find me in the computer. His manager asked me if I had my registration packet. I said no, I was told to come here to register. She sent me back to the International Student Center to get my packet, where I waited in another line. There I was told I needed to go to the Student Guidance Center to get my registration packet.

Another three-block walk (it was sunny, luckily), another line, another nice young man who couldn't find record of me in his computer. He made four phone calls as I sat there. He said admissions had dropped the ball (this is the second time admissions dropped the ball because I had to rattle chains to get them to complete my offer). He told me they will send me a registration packet electronically and it will take 24 hours. Then I can register online (via a 10-step wizard--can't wait). After which I can register for classes--which begin in one week.

As frustrated as I get (I'm not known for my patience) I had to admire the equanimity of all the university employees who are being bombarded by hundreds of confused international students. In the U.S., surliness is often met with surliness (understandably). Here, the cheeriness of the employees makes you feel bad about being impatient.
9/22