We need to talk about food chains. I mean the 'family restaurant' chains that advertise a good time with good food and friends and what not. I recently went out to one of these places and realized two things: that they are all pretty much the same, and they all suck.
I go with two other people. We have to wait fifteen minutes or so for a table. This isn't a big deal. Though it was mildly surprising, because it was Valentine's Day. I understand people taking their loved ones out for a romantic, intimate, and delectable meal for Valentine's Day, and let's just say Applebee's would not have been my first choice for that. Nevertheless the place was packed.
We finally get seated at a booth against the wall in the back. Right behind us is the register where all the waiters are tallying up their tables' bills. And here is my first wave of complaints. For one thing, why are these places always so over-staffed? There is consistently half a dozen employees standing around the register talking (and occasionally using profanity) and arguing about work and life. In my opinion, at no time should there be employees just lingering around waiting for something to do. Especially in a packed restaurant. If they want to chit chat, they can take a five minute break and go outside. I can't even hear what the other people in my booth are saying to me, over their complaints about The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones. Which brings me to something else: don't you dare talk about a show or movie that I have also seen, in my presence, without meeting the intellectual and analytic standards that I demand in conversation.
Anyways, our seater seats us, someone else comes over and introduces herself as waiter A, but tells us that waiter B will be serving us tonight. So what is her purpose exactly? She leaves. Waiter B arrives to take our drink order (we never see waiter A again) and asks if we'd like any of the house specials. We ask him what they are, but he isn't sure. Instead he indicates the advertisement stuffed between the condiment rack (one of about six different special advertisements sprinkled over the table. There were three in the condiment rack, one of which opened like a book; a triangle-shaped one on the center of the table; an extra sleeve that falls out of the menu when you open it; and drink recommendation on every little coaster and napkin) which states that if we are not told about the specialty drinks upon being seated, we are entitled to a free appetizer. In fact, we we were not told about the drinks, and until he pointed it out, we hadn't even seen the offer. When we asked for the free appetizer, he simply said that because it is Valentine's Day, the offer does not apply.
He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with our drinks. My glass of water had dried, crusted sauce all over it (maybe some of those morons loitering by the register should pick up a sponge), and he spilled sangria all over the table and menus. So much that he and another waitress had to bring over towels to clean it up. And he didn't so much as apologize.
Looking at the menu, I can't help but notice that they have the calorie values for each meal. I realize this is regulation. And it wouldn't be that noticeable, if they weren't so absurdly high! The most surprising and terrifying part, is that the appetizers seem to have more calories than the main dishes. And we're talking over 2000 calories! What's the adult man supposed to consume in a day? 2000-2500? Well, there is your entire intake value for the day. And it's a small bowl of chips and dip.
The menu is clearly designed for quantity instead of quality. Every meal seems to be some absurd combination of things that do not really belong together. Shrimp and chicken, shrimp and steak, steak and chicken, all of them with or without pasta and...cheese. It is just gross and unappetizing. I ordered a cheeseburger, medium, figuring that they can't possibly screw up a simple burger. (Though I should also point out that 'cheeseburger' and 'hamburger' were not options in the burger section. There were only six strange themed burgers that again tried to combine different genres of food. For example, the quesadilla burger, which is exactly what it sounds like.) When it finally arrived, it looked like something that was purchased over-the-counter at Wendy's, frozen, and then microwaved and thrown onto a different bun, just for me. Why ask how I would like it cooked when all of them are paper-thin patties that come out of the toaster the same?
The sad thing is, I would have preferred to go to Wendy's or McDonald's, gotten something cheap and tasty, and gotten out of there in 10 minutes. Instead I have to sit here for an hour and a half while I'm waited on by half a dozen blank-faced zombies, who, I assume, when they're not texting or playing minesweeper on the computer, are in the kitchen cooking the food with their eyes closed.
It wasn't even worth it to get rid of a stupid $15 gift certificate I won in a trivia contest back at school. From now on, I will do everything in my power to avoid these restaurants. And please, if you have any self-respect or respect for the people you are eating with, go somewhere else. Somewhere original. You deserve better.
Showing posts with label Angry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Angry. Show all posts
Monday, February 18, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The Soft, White Pillow of Hell
I don't care for winter weather. It requires too much work and preparation: the extra layers of clothing that take an hour to put on and then you sweat; the moisturizer you need when your skin dries out to the point of cracking and bleeding; the rampant assault of cold and flu that forces you to wash your hands ten times a day, only making them colder and drier...
About once a year we get a really big snow storm that leaves a foot or two of snow on the ground. It's strange that even nowadays, when a big storm is pending, I experience a fleeting echo of the childish excitement I would feel when I was younger. What is it about the snow that is so enticing? It's like the human brain is programmed to equate snow with fantasy and wonder. For a kid, it means, most importantly, a potential Snow Day. That, in itself, makes it a miracle. But there are so many other quintessential snowy activities to partake in: snowball fights, snowman building, sledding, ice skating, and igloo construction. These are the things I want to do. These are things that, if my understanding of American culture is accurate, kids are supposed to enjoy doing in the wintertime.
Except, despite the exhilaration I would feel before a big storm, none of these ideas ever came to fruition. In my youth, I was a short, plump asthmatic. The weight of the extra layers of clothing, alone, would have me panting before I got to the door. On the occasion of a Snow Day, I would not be allowed to sleep in and then go play in the snow. Instead I would be woken up even earlier than I would normally get up for school, so that I could start shoveling the driveway and a path for the dogs to go to the bathroom. By the time the sun was up, I was sweating and wheezing, my face was numb, and my back was throbbing.
As for those classic American winter activities, let's see. I tried to build a snowman once, in my back yard, with my brother. The thing is, when you have dogs, there is poop and pee everywhere; and when it snows, it's hidden or harder to pick up. But, being a kid, you don't really consider this, until you have a big beautiful boulder of snow...with smelly brown and yellow patches on it. Sledding is a sick joke, I assume created by lazy parents, as a way to exhaust their children's energy while they're outdoors. You drag your sled (and your short, round self) to the top of a hill, only to slide back down again. Best case scenario, the ride last five seconds, as compared to the ten minute trek to the top. Worst case scenario, you sink into the snow at the summit and have to thrust yourself forward until gravity changes its mind, but then the sled gets offset by your foot holes on the hill and you end up tumbling off a few times on the way down. The one time I tried to make an igloo, I had to make a pile of snow first, and then hollow it out. I was so exhausted from shoveling that the made was too small. In an act of desperation I hollowed it out anyway, to find that only my head and shoulders could fit inside. Ice skating is another activity that should only be allowed for the skinny and flexible. By the time my second skate touched the ice, I was already on my ass. 90 percent of the experience was me floundering around on the ice trying to stand back up, while everyone else glided around me. As for snowball fights, well, they required a group of friends, something I never had when I was little.
The worst thing about the snow is how freaking cold it is. You're never really dressed warm enough, and no matter what, there is some amount of skin exposed that gets even colder. I wear glasses, and when the wind blows, snow curls around the edges of the frames and viciously stings my eyes. And there is always a piece of wrist that appears between the jacket and glove that inevitably gets snow on it; when I try to wipe the snow away, it just goes underneath the sleeve. I want to go out there and play around for a few hours, but after five minutes I am cold, exhausted, and uncomfortable. Why, snow? Why are you so deceiving?
About once a year we get a really big snow storm that leaves a foot or two of snow on the ground. It's strange that even nowadays, when a big storm is pending, I experience a fleeting echo of the childish excitement I would feel when I was younger. What is it about the snow that is so enticing? It's like the human brain is programmed to equate snow with fantasy and wonder. For a kid, it means, most importantly, a potential Snow Day. That, in itself, makes it a miracle. But there are so many other quintessential snowy activities to partake in: snowball fights, snowman building, sledding, ice skating, and igloo construction. These are the things I want to do. These are things that, if my understanding of American culture is accurate, kids are supposed to enjoy doing in the wintertime.
Except, despite the exhilaration I would feel before a big storm, none of these ideas ever came to fruition. In my youth, I was a short, plump asthmatic. The weight of the extra layers of clothing, alone, would have me panting before I got to the door. On the occasion of a Snow Day, I would not be allowed to sleep in and then go play in the snow. Instead I would be woken up even earlier than I would normally get up for school, so that I could start shoveling the driveway and a path for the dogs to go to the bathroom. By the time the sun was up, I was sweating and wheezing, my face was numb, and my back was throbbing.
As for those classic American winter activities, let's see. I tried to build a snowman once, in my back yard, with my brother. The thing is, when you have dogs, there is poop and pee everywhere; and when it snows, it's hidden or harder to pick up. But, being a kid, you don't really consider this, until you have a big beautiful boulder of snow...with smelly brown and yellow patches on it. Sledding is a sick joke, I assume created by lazy parents, as a way to exhaust their children's energy while they're outdoors. You drag your sled (and your short, round self) to the top of a hill, only to slide back down again. Best case scenario, the ride last five seconds, as compared to the ten minute trek to the top. Worst case scenario, you sink into the snow at the summit and have to thrust yourself forward until gravity changes its mind, but then the sled gets offset by your foot holes on the hill and you end up tumbling off a few times on the way down. The one time I tried to make an igloo, I had to make a pile of snow first, and then hollow it out. I was so exhausted from shoveling that the made was too small. In an act of desperation I hollowed it out anyway, to find that only my head and shoulders could fit inside. Ice skating is another activity that should only be allowed for the skinny and flexible. By the time my second skate touched the ice, I was already on my ass. 90 percent of the experience was me floundering around on the ice trying to stand back up, while everyone else glided around me. As for snowball fights, well, they required a group of friends, something I never had when I was little.
The worst thing about the snow is how freaking cold it is. You're never really dressed warm enough, and no matter what, there is some amount of skin exposed that gets even colder. I wear glasses, and when the wind blows, snow curls around the edges of the frames and viciously stings my eyes. And there is always a piece of wrist that appears between the jacket and glove that inevitably gets snow on it; when I try to wipe the snow away, it just goes underneath the sleeve. I want to go out there and play around for a few hours, but after five minutes I am cold, exhausted, and uncomfortable. Why, snow? Why are you so deceiving?
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
It's not you, it's me. ...lamentations of a grad school applicant
I debated whether or not to write about the process of applying to graduate school for a few reasons. For one thing, I am not done yet; I have only finished the applications for the first due date. However, the main reason is that the experience has made me so desperately miserable that I'm not sure I'll be able to talk about it with a sense of humor.
Most applications ask for the same stuff: personal info, GRE scores, experience/qualifications in that area, letters of recommendation, transcripts, statement of purpose, and sometimes a resume or this irritating thing called a Curriculum Vitae. I have managed to break some of my experience down into a few (comedic?) stories/rants about the process, and hopefully writing about them will make it all a little more bearable.
So you have a list of schools you want to apply to. You want to be a medical physicist. How noble. You tried to 'research' the different programs so that you can see what's right for you, but come on, you don't know what's right for you. You know you want a lucrative and hopefully rewarding job, and you want it to have something to do with what you love: physics. Medical physics is not something we all experience throughout our lives or something we aspire to be for years. No one says "hey, you know those medical physicists are really pretty remarkable." So no, you can't say that you have a calling to medical physics. Or that you always knew what you wanted to do. It's just something that, after much deliberation, you think would make you happy.
Now what will you do first? The statement of purpose? Okay. So the school asks you to write about your educational and career objectives. But wait! That's too typical. Don't ACTUALLY put in your career and education objectives, because that's too normal. They'll be expecting that. No no, you need to write something brilliant. Something interesting, and different, and provocative. A window into your very soul, which should of course be comprised of nothing but medical physics. Something so mindblowingly unique and powerful that it not only indicates to the reviewer that you are more interesting then the Dos Equis guy, you are also the best candidate. In the world. For this program.
Next maybe you'll tackle this Curriculum Vitae thing. You google it and realize that all the samples are filled with diverse employment history, education that goes way beyond your measly Bachelor's degree, and even publications. All things that you can't expect to have UNTIL you get into grad school. Oh, and it's basically a resume. So now you have a resume and a CV, which makes two documents that show how much you lack job experience and education. That should look good. Maybe you can throw in your high school honor society or the boy scouts, just so that there are some words on the page to keep your name company.
Now let's get more technical. Every school wants a transcript. However, some of them want an official transcript, some of them will settle for an unofficial one. Others require one of each, or two of one. (The hardest part of this process is paying attention to the fine print, which is different for each school. You may look at the graduate school website for University A, which says that all applications are due next month, only to go to the website for the program you are interested in and see that, actually, their deadline for applications was yesterday. Oops.) An official one is sent from your school; an unofficial one, I have been led to understand, has to be mailed to you for you to scan and then upload it for submission. This is where I introduce my first tale of woe...
University A asks for two official transcripts, mailed in by my college, and uploaded to the online application. Did anyone catch the subtle error? They say they want two OFFICIAL transcripts, but then say one should be uploaded. The one that is uploaded must first be in my possession, and therefore, by definition, cannot be official. Thanks for the clarity. You could always give the admissions office a call to clarify...ah, but they're not there because it's winter break or lunch break or they just don't feel like answering. Very useful.
So you have to ask your school to send out some transcripts. What do you do? Call the registrar? Send an email? No no no, that's way too 21st century. You either have to mail in a signed letter of request with you name, birth date and social security number to prove it's you (I guess there's a lot of wackos out there trying to obtain other people's transcripts) or send them a fax with the same information. Well, mailing them is going to take days; you'd rather fax. Now where do you find a fax machine? You certainly don't have one. You never needed one before. Looks like you could either go to Staples (the nearest one being a half hour away) or use the machine in your mom's office, which is slightly closer.
A few days later you have the student copy (unofficial) in hand and, upon inspection, notice that they managed to cram your entire undergraduate career onto a single sheet of paper by using size 4 font. This is, of course, too small for the scanner to read as text, so you'll have to scan it in as either a picture or a pdf. That's annoying, but not too dramatic. Now to upload...
Hmm, it says the file size is too big. They're maximum space is 600 KB. This pdf can't be too much bigger. It's...holy shit! It's 14 MG!? That's more than 20 times the space limit! But what did you do wrong? It says right in the instructions that it must be in pdf format. Maybe you should call the-- oh, right...Well, the internet says that the best way to reduce the file size is to 'compress' it. Done! Lo and behold it's down to only 60 KB! Let's just open it first and make sure it all looks the same...Shit! Why is it so blurry? Now you can't read a thing! Scratch that idea. And it's back to my mother's office, where the scanner is a bit less primitive and has a few more options. After a few hours of trial and error, it appears the only solution is to scan the transcript in as a picture, copy it to a word document, and then save it as a pdf. All of this so that this graduate school can have an UNOFFICIAL transcript to peruse while waiting for the official one to show up.
As for the letters of recommendation, you are way ahead of schedule, giving your professors plenty of time to write thoughtful, impressive letters. You sent them a list of all the schools and the deadlines and how they should expect to send them in. Most are of course by email. Simple enough. Until it's not. Cue story #2:
You are finally getting to work on the application for University B. You thought you were all set with those letters of recommendation because the handy application checklist just gives a web address to email them to. But now that you're actually in the application and they're asking you for the information on your three professors, you notice a discrepancy. It turns out University B has a form for the referee to fill out instead of the standard letter; you fill out the top half and the referee does the rest. That's convenient. And you can either submit this form by email or by mail. In hard copy, you have to print out three of them, fill each out separately, then mail each one to the professor with return postage and envelope enclosed. They will, in turn, fill them out, sign the seal of the envelope, and send them back to you. When you have all three of them together, you combine them into one larger envelope and send them all, together, and still enclosed, to the school. The other option is much more sensible: simply fill out the top half and email it to the professor, who will fill out the bottom half and email it to the school. That can be done in a single afternoon, as opposed to potentially a week or more. And look, when you download the form, it even lets you fill out the top half. So easy!
Ehem, but wait a second. After you fill out the top half, you try to save it. But when it saves it erases your edit. How come? Well, the form is a pdf, which can't be edited. So when it let you edit it just now before saving, that was just for kicks. In fact, only the latest adobe software, which costs a minimum of $140 has the option to edit and save. So what, does University B expect you to have this software? Or do they really think the most efficient way to submit recommendations is a weeks-long four-person game of mail tag? Anyways, what else could you do? You could print out the form and fill out the top half and fax it. But you can't fax it because they need to mail it back to you and they won't have the return envelope and postage. The only other option is to print and fill out three separate ones, re-scan, and email each to the respective professor. And now what are they going to do with it? Print it out, fill it in, and then re-scan it and email it? That's kind of a hassle. And don't forget you happen to have a professor who prefers to use a voice-to-text program on his computer because he has trouble writing with his hands. Are you really going to ask him to do all this work for you? But more importantly, does University B seriously expect all this?
Now that you have all the paperwork in order - statements of purpose and CV nice and spiffy, transcripts and GRE scores in the mail - you can go ahead and fill out the online application and get that damn thing submitted.
Except wait a minute. Something's not right. You notice at the last minute, just before you pay that application fee, as you're reviewing all the fine print in the application checklist, that the name of the program it tells you put on the application is not the same as the name of the program at the top of the page. You want to be a medical physicist. Some universities call that medical physics, some call it radiation oncology, and others call it biomedical engineering. They're all pretty sweet titles. But look here, you said that you're applying for a Master's degree in 'biomedical engineering', when University C specifically says that you need to apply for 'medical physics'. Ya see, at University C, biomedical engineering and medical physics are two very different programs with two very different departments. And now you know. And now you can change that little error (good thing you caught that before submitting the application. That would have been a silly thing to try and explain to the admissions office). Although wait, the other day you took the GRE, and afterwards you were allowed to send your scores to five schools, free of charge. Except when you searched for University C and put in their school code, you were asked for a department. When there was no 'medical physics' department, you went ahead and put 'biomedical engineering'. That seemed right. They're practically the same. Besides, what were you supposed to do, memorize the specific department for each school? It's not like you can write it down, because you're not allowed to bring anything with you when taking the GRE except a photo ID and a pair of pants. How were you supposed to know where to have those scores sent. Now you have to resend the scores, only this time there is a $25 fee!
But let's get back to that application. Turns out you can't change the program you are applying to. Once you put in the name of the program, it locked it in and created the application based on the program. So the only way to change that is to...start a new application from scratch. Try not to screw it up this time. Oh, and look at that, you have to re-enter your professors' info so that they can re-submit your letters of recommendation because they don't carry over. I'm sure they'll appreciate that. And now you remember that when you did this the first time around, you received copies of the messages sent to each professor verifying that they were sent successfully. Now it's not doing that. Instead, each time you submit their address, it says that a copy has been sent to your University C email. But you never made a University C email. In fact, sure enough, when you go to the University C email and put in the only login information you know - the login from the application - it tells you that the information is incorrect. Okay, so back up. You're missing something. You recheck the emails you've gotten from University C since beginning the application. And boom! It says right there that your login name and password are only temporary. And that you have to immediately use some other login and some other password to create a special account where you will immediately be asked to create yet another unique login and another unique password. So you go back and set this up. All so that you can check the email account and make sure that emails were sent to your professors. And yet, when you click on the email button right in the middle of the screen, what do you see? Well, it's not your email. Instead it's the message "Your [University C] account is currently locked or inaccessible. Please contact the Help Desk for assistance."
And those are my stories. I sure hope I get into grad school, because I am never applying again.
Most applications ask for the same stuff: personal info, GRE scores, experience/qualifications in that area, letters of recommendation, transcripts, statement of purpose, and sometimes a resume or this irritating thing called a Curriculum Vitae. I have managed to break some of my experience down into a few (comedic?) stories/rants about the process, and hopefully writing about them will make it all a little more bearable.
So you have a list of schools you want to apply to. You want to be a medical physicist. How noble. You tried to 'research' the different programs so that you can see what's right for you, but come on, you don't know what's right for you. You know you want a lucrative and hopefully rewarding job, and you want it to have something to do with what you love: physics. Medical physics is not something we all experience throughout our lives or something we aspire to be for years. No one says "hey, you know those medical physicists are really pretty remarkable." So no, you can't say that you have a calling to medical physics. Or that you always knew what you wanted to do. It's just something that, after much deliberation, you think would make you happy.
Now what will you do first? The statement of purpose? Okay. So the school asks you to write about your educational and career objectives. But wait! That's too typical. Don't ACTUALLY put in your career and education objectives, because that's too normal. They'll be expecting that. No no, you need to write something brilliant. Something interesting, and different, and provocative. A window into your very soul, which should of course be comprised of nothing but medical physics. Something so mindblowingly unique and powerful that it not only indicates to the reviewer that you are more interesting then the Dos Equis guy, you are also the best candidate. In the world. For this program.
Next maybe you'll tackle this Curriculum Vitae thing. You google it and realize that all the samples are filled with diverse employment history, education that goes way beyond your measly Bachelor's degree, and even publications. All things that you can't expect to have UNTIL you get into grad school. Oh, and it's basically a resume. So now you have a resume and a CV, which makes two documents that show how much you lack job experience and education. That should look good. Maybe you can throw in your high school honor society or the boy scouts, just so that there are some words on the page to keep your name company.
Now let's get more technical. Every school wants a transcript. However, some of them want an official transcript, some of them will settle for an unofficial one. Others require one of each, or two of one. (The hardest part of this process is paying attention to the fine print, which is different for each school. You may look at the graduate school website for University A, which says that all applications are due next month, only to go to the website for the program you are interested in and see that, actually, their deadline for applications was yesterday. Oops.) An official one is sent from your school; an unofficial one, I have been led to understand, has to be mailed to you for you to scan and then upload it for submission. This is where I introduce my first tale of woe...
University A asks for two official transcripts, mailed in by my college, and uploaded to the online application. Did anyone catch the subtle error? They say they want two OFFICIAL transcripts, but then say one should be uploaded. The one that is uploaded must first be in my possession, and therefore, by definition, cannot be official. Thanks for the clarity. You could always give the admissions office a call to clarify...ah, but they're not there because it's winter break or lunch break or they just don't feel like answering. Very useful.
So you have to ask your school to send out some transcripts. What do you do? Call the registrar? Send an email? No no no, that's way too 21st century. You either have to mail in a signed letter of request with you name, birth date and social security number to prove it's you (I guess there's a lot of wackos out there trying to obtain other people's transcripts) or send them a fax with the same information. Well, mailing them is going to take days; you'd rather fax. Now where do you find a fax machine? You certainly don't have one. You never needed one before. Looks like you could either go to Staples (the nearest one being a half hour away) or use the machine in your mom's office, which is slightly closer.
A few days later you have the student copy (unofficial) in hand and, upon inspection, notice that they managed to cram your entire undergraduate career onto a single sheet of paper by using size 4 font. This is, of course, too small for the scanner to read as text, so you'll have to scan it in as either a picture or a pdf. That's annoying, but not too dramatic. Now to upload...
Hmm, it says the file size is too big. They're maximum space is 600 KB. This pdf can't be too much bigger. It's...holy shit! It's 14 MG!? That's more than 20 times the space limit! But what did you do wrong? It says right in the instructions that it must be in pdf format. Maybe you should call the-- oh, right...Well, the internet says that the best way to reduce the file size is to 'compress' it. Done! Lo and behold it's down to only 60 KB! Let's just open it first and make sure it all looks the same...Shit! Why is it so blurry? Now you can't read a thing! Scratch that idea. And it's back to my mother's office, where the scanner is a bit less primitive and has a few more options. After a few hours of trial and error, it appears the only solution is to scan the transcript in as a picture, copy it to a word document, and then save it as a pdf. All of this so that this graduate school can have an UNOFFICIAL transcript to peruse while waiting for the official one to show up.
As for the letters of recommendation, you are way ahead of schedule, giving your professors plenty of time to write thoughtful, impressive letters. You sent them a list of all the schools and the deadlines and how they should expect to send them in. Most are of course by email. Simple enough. Until it's not. Cue story #2:
You are finally getting to work on the application for University B. You thought you were all set with those letters of recommendation because the handy application checklist just gives a web address to email them to. But now that you're actually in the application and they're asking you for the information on your three professors, you notice a discrepancy. It turns out University B has a form for the referee to fill out instead of the standard letter; you fill out the top half and the referee does the rest. That's convenient. And you can either submit this form by email or by mail. In hard copy, you have to print out three of them, fill each out separately, then mail each one to the professor with return postage and envelope enclosed. They will, in turn, fill them out, sign the seal of the envelope, and send them back to you. When you have all three of them together, you combine them into one larger envelope and send them all, together, and still enclosed, to the school. The other option is much more sensible: simply fill out the top half and email it to the professor, who will fill out the bottom half and email it to the school. That can be done in a single afternoon, as opposed to potentially a week or more. And look, when you download the form, it even lets you fill out the top half. So easy!
Ehem, but wait a second. After you fill out the top half, you try to save it. But when it saves it erases your edit. How come? Well, the form is a pdf, which can't be edited. So when it let you edit it just now before saving, that was just for kicks. In fact, only the latest adobe software, which costs a minimum of $140 has the option to edit and save. So what, does University B expect you to have this software? Or do they really think the most efficient way to submit recommendations is a weeks-long four-person game of mail tag? Anyways, what else could you do? You could print out the form and fill out the top half and fax it. But you can't fax it because they need to mail it back to you and they won't have the return envelope and postage. The only other option is to print and fill out three separate ones, re-scan, and email each to the respective professor. And now what are they going to do with it? Print it out, fill it in, and then re-scan it and email it? That's kind of a hassle. And don't forget you happen to have a professor who prefers to use a voice-to-text program on his computer because he has trouble writing with his hands. Are you really going to ask him to do all this work for you? But more importantly, does University B seriously expect all this?
Now that you have all the paperwork in order - statements of purpose and CV nice and spiffy, transcripts and GRE scores in the mail - you can go ahead and fill out the online application and get that damn thing submitted.
Except wait a minute. Something's not right. You notice at the last minute, just before you pay that application fee, as you're reviewing all the fine print in the application checklist, that the name of the program it tells you put on the application is not the same as the name of the program at the top of the page. You want to be a medical physicist. Some universities call that medical physics, some call it radiation oncology, and others call it biomedical engineering. They're all pretty sweet titles. But look here, you said that you're applying for a Master's degree in 'biomedical engineering', when University C specifically says that you need to apply for 'medical physics'. Ya see, at University C, biomedical engineering and medical physics are two very different programs with two very different departments. And now you know. And now you can change that little error (good thing you caught that before submitting the application. That would have been a silly thing to try and explain to the admissions office). Although wait, the other day you took the GRE, and afterwards you were allowed to send your scores to five schools, free of charge. Except when you searched for University C and put in their school code, you were asked for a department. When there was no 'medical physics' department, you went ahead and put 'biomedical engineering'. That seemed right. They're practically the same. Besides, what were you supposed to do, memorize the specific department for each school? It's not like you can write it down, because you're not allowed to bring anything with you when taking the GRE except a photo ID and a pair of pants. How were you supposed to know where to have those scores sent. Now you have to resend the scores, only this time there is a $25 fee!
But let's get back to that application. Turns out you can't change the program you are applying to. Once you put in the name of the program, it locked it in and created the application based on the program. So the only way to change that is to...start a new application from scratch. Try not to screw it up this time. Oh, and look at that, you have to re-enter your professors' info so that they can re-submit your letters of recommendation because they don't carry over. I'm sure they'll appreciate that. And now you remember that when you did this the first time around, you received copies of the messages sent to each professor verifying that they were sent successfully. Now it's not doing that. Instead, each time you submit their address, it says that a copy has been sent to your University C email. But you never made a University C email. In fact, sure enough, when you go to the University C email and put in the only login information you know - the login from the application - it tells you that the information is incorrect. Okay, so back up. You're missing something. You recheck the emails you've gotten from University C since beginning the application. And boom! It says right there that your login name and password are only temporary. And that you have to immediately use some other login and some other password to create a special account where you will immediately be asked to create yet another unique login and another unique password. So you go back and set this up. All so that you can check the email account and make sure that emails were sent to your professors. And yet, when you click on the email button right in the middle of the screen, what do you see? Well, it's not your email. Instead it's the message "Your [University C] account is currently locked or inaccessible. Please contact the Help Desk for assistance."
And those are my stories. I sure hope I get into grad school, because I am never applying again.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Will somebody answer that damn phone! (A rant about smoke detectors)
Smoke detectors. Who needs them? You would think that in this day and age there would be more efficient ways to determine if there is smoke in the house. Now I don't mean to be ignorant. I know that some home security alarms have smoke and carbon monoxide detectors that immediately dial the alarm company when they detect a problem. But here in my house we have the standard wall-mounted detectors that make a high-pitched squeal to get your attention. So I am sitting in the den when one of the detectors in the house begins the period beep indicating that the battery is dying. And of course it doesn't beep every five seconds; it's more like every five minutes. So the first time it sounds I assume it's my imagination. The second time I wonder if it is something on TV. Finally, I mute the TV and sit in silence until I here it again and realize it's a smoke detector. Then begins the half hour long process of trying to determine where the sound is coming from when all I get is a single muffled beep every five minutes.
I finally locate the culprit at the top of the basement stairs. I pull it off the wall and stare at it, waiting for it to confirm if 1) it is the correct detector and 2) if it is, indeed, a question of the battery. There is a panel of lights that represent smoke, carbon monoxide, battery, and service, and a button in the middle labeled test/silence. Being the impatient guy that I am, I click test/silence figuring that it will tell me what's wrong. Big mistake! It starts blaring in my face. First the smoke alarm and then the CO alarm (because I guess I am supposed to memorize which one means which in case of an emergency?). But of course nothing with the battery. So then I sit and wait again for something to happen on its own, before the seeds of doubt start to germinate and I figure "was it really this one? Is it going to do it again?" And just as I figure it fixed itself and break eye contact with the panel of lights, it beeps again, forcing me to sit there for another five minutes, keeping my eyes focused on the battery light until I have a headache. At least, it beeps and the battery light flashes and I know that the smoke detector needs a new battery. The irritating truth: this smoke detector is brand new and was put on the wall a few days.
I finally locate the culprit at the top of the basement stairs. I pull it off the wall and stare at it, waiting for it to confirm if 1) it is the correct detector and 2) if it is, indeed, a question of the battery. There is a panel of lights that represent smoke, carbon monoxide, battery, and service, and a button in the middle labeled test/silence. Being the impatient guy that I am, I click test/silence figuring that it will tell me what's wrong. Big mistake! It starts blaring in my face. First the smoke alarm and then the CO alarm (because I guess I am supposed to memorize which one means which in case of an emergency?). But of course nothing with the battery. So then I sit and wait again for something to happen on its own, before the seeds of doubt start to germinate and I figure "was it really this one? Is it going to do it again?" And just as I figure it fixed itself and break eye contact with the panel of lights, it beeps again, forcing me to sit there for another five minutes, keeping my eyes focused on the battery light until I have a headache. At least, it beeps and the battery light flashes and I know that the smoke detector needs a new battery. The irritating truth: this smoke detector is brand new and was put on the wall a few days.
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