You, Sir, Take Your Job WAY Too Seriously

Yesterday, with a spring in my step, I head off to hand in my thesis. I had my phone in my back pocket, ready to call my mom to tell her the good news as soon as it was official.

The guy at the counter rubbed me the wrong way right from the start. It seemed as if he was just itching to get his hands on my thesis, not to send me on my way to merry masters degree-hood, but instead to make me, or any other stressed grad student cry. Before we start, he tells me with, I swear, a twinkle in his eye about the girl he brought to tears just an hour earlier. And then there was the one on Monday morning... Awesome. I hope you sleep well at night.

On page 2, with what almost sounded like delight in his voice, he explains that we have a problem and whips his ruler out. See, on the MOST IMPORTANT page of my entire thesis (his words, not mine - I would like to think that the academic community, for which I was writing, it would find some of the content to be the most important), my margin is off by a 1/2-inch.

Oh my goodness! It is the end of the world right here on page 2.

Much to his dismay, not a tear was shed (I mean, I didn't want to make Boston jealous, crying about something besides him*), as he explained the importance of the 1-1/2 inch margin, and how I also needed to capitalized TABLE OF CONTENTS, but not Appendix A.

Instead, I laughed. Because, seriously we are talking about formatting a thesis, not a peace treaty. And because wouldn't you know it, this page was flown in from Sweden the week before, where one of committee members is doing research until November, because it required "original signatures."

Given a week extension, guess what I did today? Fixed the margin (silly oversight on my part, I'll admit it), checked it twice. And had him check it again just in case - he seriously spent a good minute with his ruler to the page, examining the freaking margin, because it just didn't seem to be quite big enough. I was paranoid he was going to whip out his red pen again just to spite me for not crying the first time.

Then spent $60 to mail the page to Sweden for my committee member to sign and return ($60 which I didn't have because I left my wallet at home - which I learned when I went to FedEx the first time today - and had to go back a second time with the $100 bill my advisor whipped out of her wallet, telling me to bring back the change and a receipt - have I ever said I love her?!?). I needed the signed copy back by next Friday, which isn't going to happen because it won't get to Sweden until Tuesday. And then I (and my advisor - although not together) leave for vacation for almost 2 weeks and can't do anything about it.

So, moral of the story, I might be f*cked. But I'm still laughing because what else can I do but wait it out, and reconjure the imagine of the man at the counter with his ruler, taking his job WAY too seriously and taking WAY too much delight in making people cry.