Jessie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Last night I thought it was a great idea to be out until 4 a.m. And it was, at the time, since I got to see all my favorite people at Dick Turpin's open mic night, and at the Connemara open mic night, including my English friends who are all headed back home this weekend.
This morning, I overslept. I woke up at 9:28, which is about ten minutes after I should have left the apartment to get to my 10 a.m. meeting a couple of minutes early. Because I'm obsessively punctual. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Anyway, I woke up cursing. Ran out of the house. Discovered that yes, it's still in the 40s Fahrenheit, still pouring rain off and on, still windy, and still overcast. Oh, and still May. Explain that. I missed the first tram and had to wait an extra six minutes, putting me further behind schedule. I ended up only about ten minutes late, and that living on French time, but it still makes me uncomfortable.
My professor gave me a 12 for the course, which isn't too shabby, all things considered. We discussed my career goals, which necessitated my explaining how the American college system works, since it seems incomprehensible that I should be pursuing two degrees at once. I talked about tree frogs. That's about where my vocabulary gets spotty.
I went to one of the campus restaurants to get some breakfast. I ordered a coffee and a chocolatine, and calculated the total to be a little over two euros. So when the cashier asked me if that was all and asked for an amount of money, I handed her three euros. She held out the money indignantly, asked me if I was deaf, and demanded to know why I had given her three euros. Then demanded 75 cents, which I, confusedly, tried to give her. I miscounted and gave her 65, which caused her to yell at me again. Apparently what happened was that she hadn't heard me order coffee and only charged me for the pastry. I moved one cashier over and asked for coffee, again. I was pretty angry, but, when I get angry, all of my French skills fly out of my head. I didn't know what to say, so I just extricated myself from the situation. She was the bitchiest employee of anywhere I've met on two continents, but the one good thing to come out of it was that she apparently didn't notice I wasn't French when I ordered. If she had, shouldn't have asked if I was deaf -- she just would have assumed I was a non-francophone idiot. Score one for my developing accent?
I hung around campus for four hours, waiting for my next appointment with a professor. I was going to take a final exam and give a presentation, after which he would give me a grade and I would be finished with the year. Alas, after sitting around in the freezing cold library all day (they have apparently decided that, since it is May, that overrides its being cold outside, and they don't need to put the heaters on) and showing up early to the meeting, he didn't show. We waited thirty minutes and then left. Thirty because professors are almost always late by fifteen minutes here -- there is no "fifteen minute rule" in France. This is frustrating, because the professors are not accountable for, well, anything. I left a note and a copy of my exposé and went home, in a terrible mood. In the rain. And the cold. The blooming wisteria across the street looks ridiculous in this weather.
Then I realized I forgot to drop by my landlady's office and pay the rent. And that's about the time I curled up in a ball and watched Twin Peaks. Life got better after that.
I'm definitely ready for my life to stop having anything to do with the French university system.
This morning, I overslept. I woke up at 9:28, which is about ten minutes after I should have left the apartment to get to my 10 a.m. meeting a couple of minutes early. Because I'm obsessively punctual. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Anyway, I woke up cursing. Ran out of the house. Discovered that yes, it's still in the 40s Fahrenheit, still pouring rain off and on, still windy, and still overcast. Oh, and still May. Explain that. I missed the first tram and had to wait an extra six minutes, putting me further behind schedule. I ended up only about ten minutes late, and that living on French time, but it still makes me uncomfortable.
My professor gave me a 12 for the course, which isn't too shabby, all things considered. We discussed my career goals, which necessitated my explaining how the American college system works, since it seems incomprehensible that I should be pursuing two degrees at once. I talked about tree frogs. That's about where my vocabulary gets spotty.
I went to one of the campus restaurants to get some breakfast. I ordered a coffee and a chocolatine, and calculated the total to be a little over two euros. So when the cashier asked me if that was all and asked for an amount of money, I handed her three euros. She held out the money indignantly, asked me if I was deaf, and demanded to know why I had given her three euros. Then demanded 75 cents, which I, confusedly, tried to give her. I miscounted and gave her 65, which caused her to yell at me again. Apparently what happened was that she hadn't heard me order coffee and only charged me for the pastry. I moved one cashier over and asked for coffee, again. I was pretty angry, but, when I get angry, all of my French skills fly out of my head. I didn't know what to say, so I just extricated myself from the situation. She was the bitchiest employee of anywhere I've met on two continents, but the one good thing to come out of it was that she apparently didn't notice I wasn't French when I ordered. If she had, shouldn't have asked if I was deaf -- she just would have assumed I was a non-francophone idiot. Score one for my developing accent?
I hung around campus for four hours, waiting for my next appointment with a professor. I was going to take a final exam and give a presentation, after which he would give me a grade and I would be finished with the year. Alas, after sitting around in the freezing cold library all day (they have apparently decided that, since it is May, that overrides its being cold outside, and they don't need to put the heaters on) and showing up early to the meeting, he didn't show. We waited thirty minutes and then left. Thirty because professors are almost always late by fifteen minutes here -- there is no "fifteen minute rule" in France. This is frustrating, because the professors are not accountable for, well, anything. I left a note and a copy of my exposé and went home, in a terrible mood. In the rain. And the cold. The blooming wisteria across the street looks ridiculous in this weather.
Then I realized I forgot to drop by my landlady's office and pay the rent. And that's about the time I curled up in a ball and watched Twin Peaks. Life got better after that.
I'm definitely ready for my life to stop having anything to do with the French university system.
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