Jischke: dead! Touch-Tone Guy: dead! Niedermyer: dead! There are certain times when one’s general disapproval for university policy boils over into psychotic animal hatred. Registration is such a time.

Has anyone ever registered, by phone, for all their classes without having a major hassle? I’ve never heard of such a feat.

In fact, if someone could pull it off, I would lay odds that within hours the crews of “Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” “Guinness World Records” and Bill Cosby himself would be on the scene.

Every semester I am introduced to a new phrase explaining why I’m not going to get into Soc 310 this semester. Just when you think you’ve heard the Touch-Tone Guy’s entire vocabulary, you hear: “I’m sorry, that student ID code is invalid for this semester,” or “I’m sorry, there has been a security breach on this account,” or “I’m sorry, you’re just plain screwed.”

Get this, you have to pay your university bill in order to register for classes! Who do these people think they are, creditors?

Let’s be honest now. How many of us have cussed out the Touch-Tone Guy? It’s nothing to be ashamed of; most of us have been reduced to dishing out some sailor-talk to the automated voice.

The reason we’ve sunk so low? No one else will listen.

One policy at this university I’ve become increasingly aware of over the years is that students are not an important concern of the administration.

The administration expects students to rally around the cry of making this the best land grant institution in the country. But that commitment to excellence, from what I’ve observed, does little for the average student.

The real goal is to bring in more national merit scholars and athletes to make ISU more appealing to the alumni. The rich alumni.

Whenever a progress report on this quest is given, the statistics involve enrollment statistics. It’s true, this university will work its ass off to get you here. After that, bend over.

When you were a prospective student, you had people giving you tours, feeding you pamphlets and calling you to answer questions.

Once you are a student here, all they give you is an automated voice and miles of red tape.

And when I say automated voice, I’m not just talking about Charlie Touch-Tone. The “student services” offered in Beardshear or Alumni Halls rarely exceed the hospitality of a recording.

Who hasn’t had to solve a problem with their U-bill or class schedule and been sent on a quest reminiscent of an Indiana Jones movie? There is no simple correction when the university is involved.

And most of the time, the student has made the mistake. Even so, why should everything be such an uphill battle?

Why doesn’t the university make a pledge to make ISU a place students feel appreciated? The reason is simply that once the university has our money, most of us don’t mean anything to them.

Let’s be honest. A small fraction of the people here right now are going to do something memorable that will bring recognition and prestige to the university. Most of us, like me, will probably never do anything this school can be proud of.

Except maybe something like “Ben Godar, former ISU student, wins hot dog eating contest at State Fair. Story page B-3.”

For many students, this university is home for 4-7 years of our life. If the administration really cared about the students, they would pledge to make it a better home.

How they can do this is simple: offer more student service personnel.

I realize that there are already a number of student service personnel in place, and many students don’t take advantage of them.

But obviously, something isn’t working. Most every student here has faced a problem he or she didn’t know how to solve, or even who to ask about it.

With a large population, it is difficult for students to be dealt with on a “personal” level. But that is no reason they shouldn’t be treated with respect and compassion when they encounter difficulties.

It’s a shame that so many administrators seem to see the university as a business first and a service provider second.

If I’m treated like this at the best land-grant institution in the country, I’d hate to see how I’d be treated anywhere else.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames. He finally did get into Soc 310 this semester.