Venting

This is an update from Lydia's less good-looking better half. I've got a bone to chew, a long row to hoe, a cage to rattle, a wound to rub salt in, a toe to step on...and I'm cooking with gas now.

Ok, you get the point.

Here's the situation. I work in a graduate program. When a person, let's call her Molly, wants to join the program, she needs to provide our department with certain credentials. Among these credentials are letters of recommendations, an ecclesiastical endorsement, a resume, and university transcripts proving that Molly has received a bachelor's degree.

So Molly sets about gathering these materials. She talks to her bishop about the endorsement, she calls a professor and some employers about letters, and she phones her undergraduate university and requests transcripts be sent to BYU.

BYU has this wonderful organization called Graduate Studies who is in charge of collecting and certifying all this data. They also publish the catalogs and have a nice little "pat-on-the-back" dinner for graduate students. While the people who work there work hard, they stay busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger and accomplish just as much. It would make a lot more sense to have each department collect these materials than have them go to some third party. But this is digression.

Well, Molly sends her transcripts and Grad Studies is supposed to send my department a hard copy. Despite their best efforts, occasionally they forget to dot the I's and cross the T's and Molly's transcript ends up somewhere else. MPP, MPH, MBA...anywhere but MPA, where it is supposed to be.

I tell Molly that I don't have her transcript and she responds "Yes I do. Graduate Studies sent me an email saying that they have it and my application is complete." WRONG. What good is the transcript if Grad Studies can't send it to the appropriate department?

Well, I write an email and visit a friend and Grad Studies works quickly on correcting the problem for everyone concerned (there are actually about 15 Molly-like applicants and GS immediately began rectifying the situation). Unfortunately, our hero Molly's transcript can't be found. They don't have a hard copy. It isn't available to them online; I can't get it online either (this is the backup plan, btw). Grad Studies suggests that I go to the Records Office and perhaps they have it.

Hang on, this nail biter isn't finished yet.

I think it is a good use of time if our friends over in the Records Office just print out the imaged, archived version of the transcript online. However, they have ants in their pants and say they can't do anything. They suggest I call student services.

So I call our friends over at student services. Finally, someone with their head on straight says "Of course. I can print that for you. Do you want to come pick it up?" I say sure. They say to get it from Lia, who is supposedly manning the window closest to the interior of the ASB.

I mosey on over to the ASB and lo and behold, Lia is nowhere to be found. In fact, no one has ever heard of Lia, nor my phone call. I ask who I can talk to to get the bloody transcript. They suggest I speak to the records office.

Well, Records is just across the hall and I go talk to two very nice student employees who go searching for me. When they come back empty handed, I ask them if THEY can just print the transcript for me. They ask their supervisor...who says no. I must have a signed privacy document from the applicant allowing me personally to obtain the transcript. WHAT? IS THAT NOT THE POINT OF MY JOB? DO I NOT SPEND COUNTLESS HOURS REVIEWING THESE TRANSCRIPTS AND LETTERS AND ALL SORTS OF PRIVATE INFORMATION? You'd think they could get their ducks in a row and shoot straight.

I think to myself, "Andrew, you have been given permissions and rights to view these documents online. Surely if you use their computers which have the correct software and sign in, you can just print it yourself." So I ask the two young ladies helping me if I can just use their computer. They have to ask the supervisor. She glares at me (Oh, if I were wearing a business suit and had Cecil next to me this would have been no problem). She says "No, he'll have to use a campus computer in the library."

As if a PUBLIC COMPUTER in the library has the right software to view the documents that BYU only allows a handful of people to view.

Well, that really cooked my goose, so I went to an open access lab just to prove my point above. Of course, it didn't work.

I call Student Services back to see if I can get the saint who agreed to help me earlier to give me more information as to who this Lia is. No luck. On top of that, I lose the connection and the OA lab student employee kicks me out for using my phone in the lab. So I ask to use her campus phone. "No, it's just for me and my business." This coming from the girl who was having a casual conversation with who knows who when I first entered.

As a last desperate attempt, I use the most vile of all on campus computers: the kiosks. Of course, no luck. I think those things still run on Windows 98.

I return to my office and call University Imaging. These are the people responsible for scanning Molly's transcript to the online server. A very helpful woman tried to assist me, but it wasn't working. I tried my department secretary, the recruiting advisor, and three different computers in the office. I called the nice Imaging lady and asked if this record even existed. "Oh yes, I'm looking it up right now. There's x and y and z and... (everything I need).

Aren't we all on the same team?

Did we just get off on the wrong foot?

Are you sick of my endless use of clichés? So am I.

I'm also sick of useless university bureaucracy.

Tomorrow, I'm going to call the nice Imaging lady and see if SHE can just print the stupid thing for me. If she doesn't, then we know the world's been turned upside down.

Meanwhile, Molly won't be able to have her application considered neutrally because her packet is INCOMPLETE. Molly shouldn't have to go spend more money and request new transcripts because of bureaucratic incompetence, should she?

Jack Bauer would never stand for this. Here's lookin' at you, kid.