Tuesday, February 16, 2010

917 Redux

As some of you may remember, I am issue 917. Still. Again. Always. Maybe the Administrivia gods didn't like my burnt offering of red tape and black ink. Or else the Data Entry Demons (I picture them looking like the Gravelings from Dead Like Me) have it out for me. Or I have bad beaurocratic karma. I don't know. But the fun, it just keeps on coming.

So. The whole student loan fiasco last fall--I spent innumerable hours on the phone with CIBC until I was finally escalated to a lovely woman in their Ombuds office who has me fax her all my Schedule 2s and Form Bs (Schedules 2 and Forms B? Whatever.). To make an extremely long story short, she submits all my forms, and keeps me in interest-free, non-repayment status for another year. Except that I have to pay $250 in interest, because although the adminicrats at Dal who gave me the forms I needed to submitlast year insisted that, since I had a Schedule 2, I didn't need a Form B, I was accumulating interest on the Alberta portion for failing to submit a Form B on time. Whatever. This year's forms were all submitted, I was in interest-free-non-repayment status again, and meanwhile, Mary Beth cleared up that nasty 917 problem for me. Home free, right? Right?

Wrong.

In January, Trent's work sent him to Las Vegas for the CES. Since the hotel room was paid for, I decided to tag along. Toni and Brad met us in Vegas, and we had a great time. Once we got there.

Before we left, I decided to be a very good PhD student and pick up some books and articles to read in Vegas. The week before, I had put about $20 of photocopy money on my DalCard, so I grabbed a stack of (non-circulating) journals and went to photocopy them. Except that the photocopy machine said my DalCard was expired. I'm no dummy, so I knew right away that Dal had 917ed me again. I take the books up to the circulation desk, and try to explain that I Am Issue 917.

"I have no idea what that means," the circulation librarian tells me.

By this time, it's ten minutes to 4. We're leaving the next day, and I know that there's no way I can get me student status reinstated in time to get these books. So I offer to leave my wallet, Visa card, Dal Card, my soul with the librarian if she'll just let me run the (non-circulating) journals to the English department--the building directly across the street, no more than two minutes away.

"I have to check with my supervisor," she tells me. And she does. I watch as she confers with a woman at a desk no more than twenty feet away. "Sorry," she tells me at last. "You can't take these books out of the library. But you can buy a visitor's card for $1 and put more photocopy on it."

Okay. I know that $21 is not a lot of money. But Dal has just "expired" the almost $20 that I put on my card the week before, and despite the fact that my tuition is paid in full, has, without a reason that anyone in any campus department or division can fathom, revoked my student status. I am not giving them another $21.

"Listen, I'm just going to run to the English department and get Mary Beth to phone your supervisor and explain my situation, okay? What is your supervisor's name? Would you please tell her that someone from the English department will be calling her right away?"

The circ librarian agrees, and I sprint (I am not exaggerating. I sprinted. In really cute pumps) to the English deparment in under 60 seconds, quickly give Mary Beth a rundown of the sitch, and she calls over to the library. And gets the librarian's voicemail. A phone call to the circ desk tells her that the supervisor has left for the day. Nice, eh?

At this point, I am not in a friendly mood. So I sprint over to the DalCard office and snag the attention of the only staff member still working. I would like to be able to say that I used my charm and diplomacy, but I didn't. I basically had a temper tantrum. The DalCard woman tries to tell me that a data entry error originating in the English department has resulted in all my priviledges being revoked, but this is not my first trip to the circus, friends. I tell her that the English deparment didn't revoke my student status. She tries to send me to Human Resources or to the library. I refuse to leave. I demand that she un-expire my card and allow me to use it at the library to take out books, and to photocopy, using the money I loaded onto the card the week before. A long line of students is forming behind me. I can see that the woman is getting nervous. Frankly, I feel kind of bad for her--I mean, it isn't her fault that Dalhousie's administrative and data storage computing systems are a joke. But I'm also not backing down. Finally, she takes my card outside with her. She's gone for a long time. I briefly worry that I've driven her to some kind of act of administrative meltdown--you know, my DalCard, the Henry Hicks clock tower, whatnot. Finally, finally she comes back. My DalCard, it seems, has been "un-expired." But only for two days. I have two days to take books out of the library and use up my photocopy money before I'm re-revoked. I thank her. Politely. Then sprint back to the library, do my thing there, rush back to the English department, update Mary Beth, and the next day, I'm off to Vegas with a suitcase half-full of books and articles. And, a week later, when I get back, Mary Beth has sorted out the whole 917 issue. I am a real-life PhD student again. I think Mary Beth has magic powers--like maybe an adminibeaurocrativia-repelling suit of some kind.

So much for 917.

Last week, I worked a lot of hours. Not unusual, really; often, I work in the cafe until early afternoon, then make my way over to campus for a few hours. Monday to Friday mornings, I leave the house at five minutes after seven, and I seldom get home before eight at night. But almost every day last week, there's a message on the phone to call back CIBC before 7 p.m. Fat chance.

Yesterday, I get a letter in the mail. From CIBC National Student Centre, containing an Important Message Regarding my Canada Student Loan. My end-of-studies date was August 31, and my six-month grace period, it seems, is about to expire. My loans are entering repayment unless I submit a complete and accurate Schedule 2. Deep breath.

Today, from my office at Dal, I call them up. The guy on the phone says he has no record of my having submitted a Schedule 2. He doesn't mention a Form B, but I'm guessing he has no record of that either. I can hear my voice getting more and more harpyish as I explain that I had them faxed directly to the Conflict Resolution specialist in the Ombuds office, and she told me last fall that all my records are complete and up to date. He puts me on hold for about a century. I fucking hate muzak. Finally, he comes back on and says that, because my forms were not processed until January 25, my file will not be updated until later this week. I have no words. I faxed them the forms last October, they weren't updated until three weeks ago, and somehow, this is my problem?

Anyway. I suspect that the phone messages last week were about the same thing, but I return the call to CIBC, just to be sure. It is, indeed, my friendly reminder to start paying up, since their records show that I am no longer a student. I point out that, had I not spend close to 100 hours on the phone with them over the past six months, I might have actually had time to complete my dissertation. Yeah--I feel strongly that, were it not for CIBC, I would be a PhD by now. So I have the girl double-check that all my forms are received and in order.

"You know, it's actually a really good thing that you called back to follow up," she tells me. "In fact, you should probably call again next week to be sure." She also tells me that the Form B is redundant, and that the only for I need to submit is the Schedule 2.

This is the point at which I finally lose my temper. There was a diatribe. It was unfriendly. I don't remember everything I said, but I'm pretty sure that I concluded by threateneing to bill them for my time, each and every time that I had to call them to confirm that someone there is actually doing their minimum-wage data entry job and processing the paperwork that I have been sending them, faithfully and on time, despite the nauseating degree of negligence and indifference on their part.

"Okay, so, thanks for your call, and be sure to call back next week to follow up with us, okay?" she says just before she hangs up.