finals are ovah (for this term, anyhow)

This is the pile of final exams that people couldn't be bothered to come in and take after they begged the teacher to make special arrangements for them to come in and take them.

We have processed over 900 paper and pencil tests for the college this term (Guess who got to count?) I have no idea how many placement tests, on-line tests, GED tests, Pesticide tests and tax board tests we have done. I got fourty five hours of work on finals week, and if I'd been willing to work nights, I bet I could have had more. Things quieted down toward the end of the week, and I was able to get a couple of projects done (Like counting processed tests) in between surges of frantic activity.

Anyone who has worked with the public knows, there will be nothing - NOTHING for two hours, and then 15 people will all show up at once. I think they come, one at a time, and wait around the corner untill they have achieved critical mass, then storm the doors together. And they have stooges who get on the phone at the same time, so it's ringing off the hook while you try to give each person careful individual attention.

One of the teachers brought over a test for a student with no cut-off date, and one of my tasks was to purge all those tests from our files and return then to the teachers (Otherwise, they forget and we have paperwork from two years ago clogging the drawers.) I got the wrong information on where to take it,and delivered it to the wrong department. She called about it, and was outraged that it had been returned to the wrong department. "I don't understand!" She huffed. "I've been teaching here for xteen years. How did it get sent to THAT department instead of mine?"

"Gross incompetance, Ma'am," I told her. "I did it. I didn't know any better. I'll go get it and bring it to you." Which flabbergasted her even more. I have found that cheerfully admitting to gross incompetance has deflected any ammount of wrath from my fuzzy head. It must be accompanied by immediate cheerful repairs, of course. People understand that mistakes happen, and as long as they get fixed, it's ok. Mercifully, my mistakes mean papers go to the wrong building. People don't die or lose money over my gross incompetance. I prefer low responsibility jobs for that very reason.

Next week, I start a pretty regular schedule again with Thursdays and Fridays free. I am a lucky, lucky woman!

I go about a half a block out of my way to and from the office to walk past this particular corner. Thought I'd share it with you.