There are two phones on the landline of this house. One in the master bedroom and one in the living room. I'm currently in the mathom room, which is adjacent to the master bedroom as such things go (the hallway isn't straight).
I hear, distantly, the phone ring. It's about the right time for teinedreugan to be calling me if he thought of an errand he needed to run on the way home, so I scramble out of the green room (which is cluttered), down the hall, pick it up on the third ring.
"Hello?" "This is so-and-so with Direct Reservations! Congratulations! You have won. . ."
I hate the Direct Reservations fucking recording announcement things. About half the time when I hang up on their persistent recordings they call me back to continue their interrupted spiel. They don't respect the Federal Do Not Call List. They're obnoxious. They're . . . gnargle.
Also, I nearly put my elbow through one of the cats while trying to answer this. He managed to get out from under me when I fell on him and doesn't seem to have actually been hurt by the experience, but ngah.
*blows up Direct Reservations with the sort of extreme prejudice formerly reserved for the Dean for the Class of 1999 at Wellesley College*
My aggravation is somewhat enhanced by the fact that about six phone calls came in before noon today, which meant that my sleep period was . . . punctuated unpleasantly.
As far as we could tell, Dean Tien considered students to need to evolve up a few steps to qualify as gunk to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. If she had an ounce of empathy in her body, it would have resold like the car owned by the little old lady who only drove it to go to church on Sundays.
She seemed to be of the opinion that the appropriate way to deal with a student who was dropping out due to the consequences of a stress breakdown was to bully-browbeat said student into tears.
I believe she was also the one who told some of us who asked for assistance for how to visit a friend in the hospital something along the lines of, "Oh, don't worry about her. She wasn't tough enough to make it here, so people like you shouldn't be thinking about her."
At Bryn Mawr, Dean Tidmarsh is also my own dean, and she's a friendly lady. I don't understand bitchy administrators, I really don't. (*cough* Like Mrs. Boucher, who was IB coordinator at RM from 2000-2003 and was none too kind to my friends who wanted to leave the program) Do they get some kind of weird power trip by treating students like pond scum?
My pet theory is that some people like having the ability to be sadistic to people who have no real recourse, and so seek out positions where they can do so.
That, or she was a redcap. (Changeling: the Dreaming reference.)
Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Both for the stupid telephone people (I get them too) and for the dean. I loved my Dean, but then Pam Daniels was a reasonable human being who listened to your problems and actually attempted to find solutions.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
I hear, distantly, the phone ring. It's about the right time for
"Hello?"
"This is so-and-so with Direct Reservations! Congratulations! You have won. . ."
I hate the Direct Reservations fucking recording announcement things. About half the time when I hang up on their persistent recordings they call me back to continue their interrupted spiel. They don't respect the Federal Do Not Call List. They're obnoxious. They're . . . gnargle.
Also, I nearly put my elbow through one of the cats while trying to answer this. He managed to get out from under me when I fell on him and doesn't seem to have actually been hurt by the experience, but ngah.
*blows up Direct Reservations with the sort of extreme prejudice formerly reserved for the Dean for the Class of 1999 at Wellesley College*
My aggravation is somewhat enhanced by the fact that about six phone calls came in before noon today, which meant that my sleep period was . . . punctuated unpleasantly.
From:
no subject
*blows up Direct Reservations with the sort of extreme prejudice formerly reserved for the Dean for the Class of 1999 at Wellesley College*
Now you have me curious about the Wellesley Dean...but of course, you don't have to elaborate if you don't wish.
From:
no subject
She seemed to be of the opinion that the appropriate way to deal with a student who was dropping out due to the consequences of a stress breakdown was to bully-browbeat said student into tears.
I believe she was also the one who told some of us who asked for assistance for how to visit a friend in the hospital something along the lines of, "Oh, don't worry about her. She wasn't tough enough to make it here, so people like you shouldn't be thinking about her."
From:
no subject
At Bryn Mawr, Dean Tidmarsh is also my own dean, and she's a friendly lady. I don't understand bitchy administrators, I really don't. (*cough* Like Mrs. Boucher, who was IB coordinator at RM from 2000-2003 and was none too kind to my friends who wanted to leave the program) Do they get some kind of weird power trip by treating students like pond scum?
From:
no subject
That, or she was a redcap. (Changeling: the Dreaming reference.)
From:
no subject