InCOMpetence

This is it. I’ve finally made it. Nothing can stop me now. The road has been a long one, littered with bad decisions, challenging obstacles, and Capri Suns; nevertheless, it’s over. I’m going to be in COM.

The journey began when I applied to college. I was under the spell of a very powerful drug, ignorance, and didn’t really think about what I wanted to do with my life. So I chose Pre-Med because ER was a quality show at the time. It’s not that bad if you think about it; at least I didn’t use Charmed for career inspiration.

This path of science was populated by people who enjoy wearing goggles and celebrate a holiday dedicated to the mole. Clearly, I was in the wrong concentration. I tried English, but it still lacked something. I wanted to create something new to contribute to the world, not just critique what other people had already made.

Then I found the College of Communication. Here was a place I could let my creativity run wild and put up a façade of intellectual achievement at the same time. I made a solemn vow to get myself transferred.

My first step towards moving to COM was to enroll in Introduction to Communications Writing. I thought it would be fun: write some stuff, meet some people in the same boat as me, good times. But class operated a little differently than I expected.

“Do you know what a ‘verb’ is?” my teacher asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, great, here’s a sticker. Ooh, a scratch ‘n’ sniff one!”

The real tragedy lay in me being one of only a handful of people to leave class smelling like blueberries. Yet I endured the course and made my public school writing teachers proud.

Now the only obstacle in my way was a 3.00 grade point average. I decided to load up on easy courses, ones in which I could sleep, draw bunnies all over my assignments, and never take off my ipod while still getting A’s. Statistics 115, Intro to Computers, Seduction 101 (okay, fine, I got a C in that): these blessings from the Registrar brought me closer to my desired future than I had ever been. The time had come for transfer paperwork.

And that brings us up to date. I’m about to enter a meeting with a representative from the College of Communication to discuss my transfer application. In a few minutes, I will be a Film major and finally have a sense of belonging. The door opens and a man appears.

“Bobby Kennedy?” he asks. “Hey, that’s a pretty famous name. Do people ever tell you that?”
“No, never, you’re the first one.”
“Really? Well, come in.”

I enter the room and sit down across the desk from the man. He opens a folder and looks at what I assume is my paperwork.

“We’ve reviewed your application. It seems you have most things in order: a GPA of 3.00 and an A in CO201.”
“Yes, those are all the requirements, right?”
“Well, officially, yes. But this is a very prestigious institution. We have a number of other pre-requisites that do not get publicized.”
“Like what?”
“Well, our intensive background search has revealed to us that in the fifth grade you wrote a historically inaccurate story about the American Revolution in which one of your characters was a Hessian named Chad. Chad is not a German name, and therefore is an incorrect use of diction. We just cannot allow someone into this college who makes an error of that degree.”
“But-“
“I’m sorry. The decision is final. I’ve passed this information on to your advisor in the English Department. They may be suggesting Mathematics to you as a major within the next few days.”
“But that’s stu-“
“Well, it was nice meeting you. Watch out for Sirhan Sirhan on your way out. Ha ha. Get it?”

Why is this so hard? It’s not like I’m trying to cheat the system. I didn’t know I wanted to be in COM and now I do. College is supposed to be a place where you can find yourself and be educated accordingly. I know it’s my fault for applying to CAS instead of COM, but why should I be punished now for the follies of my youth? I just don’t see how forcing me to earn a degree in something I don’t want makes any philosophical, economical, or moral sense.

Alas, there’s only one thing an intelligent and composed person can do in this situation of unbearable loss and unreasonable rejection: make fun of it in the Freep. At least I can’t face any fall-out from the University over this piece. Everyone knows the administration doesn’t read The Daily Free Press; they just do the crossword.