Violin man bringing you down?

J.R. Grant

It’s that time of year again. The time when the leaves have all fallen off the trees, the football season is winding down, and finals are fast approaching. All this can only mean one thing.

It’s registration time again.

The time of audits, advisers, anticipation and agony.

Oh, that glorious process of deciding what classes to take the next semester. The agonizing reality of finding out that you will not graduate when you thought you were going to because of some stupid class that is in no way related to your major.

The mayhem all begins with that painfully confusing degree audit. A bunch of paper that looks more like a sadistic crossword puzzle than something having academic merit.

Every semester something new pops onto the page trying to confuse me even more. Classes that I thought were in my major are now moved to electives. And, that projected date of graduation keeps moving closer and closer to the 21st century.

For all of you who have not registered yet, I wish you the best. For those of you who already have or don’t have to because of graduation, I say congratulations.

The whole ordeal is so degrading. If ever there were a time in our lives that we were made to feel like sheep, touch-tone registration is it.

We all sit there and willingly take directions from some voice on the other end of the line that sounds like some guy trying to give violin lessons on record. (Do you freshmen remember records?)

When Mr. Violin Teacher says to punch numbers we do, when he says to hit the pound key we do. All we can do is sit there and listen to this idiot. “Welcome to Iowa State University touch-tone information system” in the most monotone voice of all time. A voice even more annoying than the guy at the drive through who talks to you with rocks in his mouth.

After punching in all the secret code numbers (that have been kept in some secret vault all semester) at the specified time you are allowed to get into the system.

Once inside, you begin fighting with this guy about the classes you want to take and the classes this guy is going to allow you take.

Now comes the real terror, and one of the most frustrating sentences of all time. “I’m sorry (such and such a class) is full, NO OTHER SECTIONS ARE AVAILABLE,” which is usually followed by a number of profane words that I can’t write in this column.

Doesn’t this guy have any feelings? Doesn’t this guy know that you NEED this class to graduate? Doesn’t he know that he is the only one on campus that stands between you and your perfect schedule?

The sad part is that he doesn’t. This guy, and his voice that makes you want to reach into the phone and strangle, doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about you or about graduation, or about the fact that you are now forced to take a class at 8 a.m. or have a class at 4 p.m. on Friday.

He just sits there, voice unwavering, and smashes your dreams.

In the end you slam the phone down in frustration and try to come to grips with your schedule.

He, meanwhile, waits for his next victim. The next unsuspecting student that thinks he/she will get the classes they want.


J.R. Grant is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. He hates the violin.