I did not want to call them because I have had dreadful experiences with admission offices at different campuses; therefore, I decided to go for a fun little road trip the next day.
I lived fifty miles northwest of the school campus. I knew right from the beginning that it was going to be an outrageous experience. Construction consumed most of the campus and roads so I was detoured all over the place and it appeared as if summer school was a popular choice for many college students because there was nowhere to park. The heat of the desert sun pierced through my heavy tinted windows to formulate little drops of sweat on my head, which accumulated enough to roll down the left side of my face. The air condition was on. Finally, a man was walking to his car and about to leave, now I can start my quest for satisfaction. Where was the statistics building? I went into the closest building to me, a library, to ask them if anybody knew where the statistics building was located. "The next building over, on the second floor." My confidence in the day started to improve. I walked into the building, through some narrow hallways, into the elevator, more narrow hallways, and then the door.
As I opened the door of the administration office, on my left was a slender counter that ran perpendicular to the wall with the door. On my left were a couple of chairs in case somebody was waiting for some help from the statistics department. The chairs gave the impression of being old but they did not look like they were ever used. As I approached the counter, there were two desks place on two opposite corners of a square, one was close to me on the left and the other was far on the right. Thinking to myself, "Damn it, I forgot my glasses," I tried to focus on the lady sitting on the far desk. I told her that I was a freshman and needed clarification on why my enrollment into the class failed. Right from the start, she did not take me seriously.
