Friday, April 28, 2006

sigh.

Do you lie awake at night wondering what the Dean's response to my letter was?

Well, wonder no longer: here it is (I have done some paraphrasing) -

Dear Lesley,

Thank you for your letter. I completely sympathize with your frustration. However, please go fuck yourself.

Sincerely,

the Dean.

PS: McMaster will now be randomly charging you three grand, despite the fact that you are no longer a student here, and sending said account statement to your parents in order to give them both heart attacks (again!), thereby moving one step closer to completing the university's plan of slowly but totally decimating your life. (This ACTUALLY JUST HAPPENED!)

3 Comments:

Blogger Ceeg said...

Are you f-ing kidding me? who do these people think they are? Les, I'm so sorry you have to go through this bullshit! I will call you later today.

Ceeg

9:16 a.m.  
Anonymous Marques said...

Dear Lesley,

Congrats on finishing your masters. Now that it's over, if you want me to beat up anyone at McMaster, let me know because I'm really tough. Not quite as tough as Dog the Bounty Hunter, but pretty tough.

Shoot me an email if you feel like moving to NYC to be my full-time unpaid personal assistant.

Marques

8:23 p.m.  
Blogger CTS said...

wait until they start sending you letter upon letter encouraging you to update your personal information for the alumni book.
Oh yes my friend, first they will send you a postcard asking you to call them, then they'll send you another reminding you. THey finish off the postcard bit with a warning, the last chance you have to update your info.

But it really isn't the last time. They send you a nice letter, basically telling you to update your info or suffer the grave consequences.

I didn't bother filling out anything, i just threw it all away. Finally, some lady from the alumni association called me to ask me why I hadn't completed the update request, and if I wanted to do it over the phone.

I was scared if I hung up, Peter George would show up at my house, banging in my door with a crowbar.

1:31 p.m.  

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