When I was a kid, Grandma worked at the Tarrant County Junior College (later upgraded to Tarrant County College) in the Registrar’s office. She hated it. But the worst time of the year, hands down, was Registration. Those were the nights that Grandma didn’t get home until 9:00 p.m. and when she finally did get home, she was bone weary and hating life. In retrospect, I wish I’d had the wherewithal to tell her to kick up her feet and relax while I prepared a cup of hot chocolate and treated her to a foot massage. But I was dumb, self-involved kid, so I didn’t. (Of course, Grandpa and Dad weren’t dumb self-involved kids and I never saw either of them giving Grandma a foot rub and hot chocolate either. I’m just saying.)
Being the selfish person that I was, I kinda liked Registration week because it meant my dad had to cook. And that meant a switch from the extremely healthy fare Grandma lovingly prepared every night. Dad’s repertoire was small, but it was also delicious and hugely fattening. We’d have beef stroganoff one night, teriyaki chicken wings with butter noodles the next, thin cut t-bones and Brussels sprouts in butter then next, and at least once we’d go to Perruli’s Pizza for pizza and a half stick of pepperoni which we would gnaw on the way home.
Why am I going on like this? Because now I work at the administrative end at a university and this week is Advising and Registration. Sure, I don’t have it as rough as the people over at the Registrar, but goddamn! We’ve been busy today and I am freakin’ beat. What with the constant up and down, the maddening laziness of students as they try to sidle their way into the advisor’s office even though they don’t have an appointment, having to deliver the same “first you need to fill out the course request card, then you need to figure out your schedule, then you need to blah, blah, bleh” spiel every five minutes. I just wanna go home and have some beef stroganoff and fall asleep in front of the TV.
Some hot chocolate and a foot rub would be nice too.