Middle come - middle serve
Reset. Click. Nothing. Reset. Click. Nothing. Reset. Click. "EN 120b/5 one seat available," says the Available Sections screen. "Pamleen!" I call out, scanning the minions scattered in chairs in and around my cubicle. The students are waiting. Just waiting for the word. My advisees are good at waiting. Pamleen scrambles to her feet. "Go, go, go..." I shout, grabbing my phone list, punching my chrono, and heading for the door.
I sprint to the admissions office, students calling out across the lawn, "Go Lee Ling! Go Lee Ling!" They know the game that is afoot. Some of them are playing the game with their own laptops out in front of the library. Reset. Click. Inbound to the administration door I wave the students inside to clear the landing zone. Hitting the door in just the right place with one foot, a hip, and a hand to distribute the force, the door pops opens as if hit by a gust of wind.
Pamleen is only paces behind me. We are fortunate, the lines at the admissions office have dissipated and we skitter to a halt at data entry specialist Sam's desk. EN 120b/5 please... his rapid fingers race - somewhere out there in the six campus system someone else has surely seen this opening and is gunning for it. But Sam's fingers are too fast, Pamleen snags the seat.
I check my chronograph. "42 seconds, Pamleen. Not bad, not yet good enough." I can see the need to run some wind sprints this evening with my advisees, 100 meter repeats to mimic the faculty office to admissions distance.
Behind me I hear data entry clerk Belianna reconfirm to a student that the student is dropping CA 100. I spin around, pull out my phone list, and whip a text message off to Bryce at 870-4822, "CA 100 slot avail. meet me OAR NOW!" Somewhere out on campus Bryce is running inbound to OAR as I fill out his add/drop form.
By the time Bryce comes through the door I tag-team pass off the signed form to Bryce as he then passes on to Sam. Sometimes a team is simply on a hot streak. Score. Bryce snags the CA 100 slot.
Later I return to my office, my minions awaiting. Back in the seat. Reset. Click. Nothing. Reset. Click. Nothing. Patience, however, will be rewarded, and my minions know this. They have faith in me, they know I am the best at middle come - middle serve.
Reset. Click SS 150/3 1 seat now available. "Charleen!"...
Middle come - middle serve: At 9:00 Jack goes to admissions to try to add EN 120b Expository writing, but the class is full. Jack leaves empty handed. Jill drops the class at 10:00. Pamleen adds the class at 10:00:42. Jack returns at 11:00 to see if any student dropped EN 120b but is told that the class is still full. Jack is none the wiser. In a world without waiting lists, middle come is middle served.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any realities present or past is purely coincidental. My bad.
I sprint to the admissions office, students calling out across the lawn, "Go Lee Ling! Go Lee Ling!" They know the game that is afoot. Some of them are playing the game with their own laptops out in front of the library. Reset. Click. Inbound to the administration door I wave the students inside to clear the landing zone. Hitting the door in just the right place with one foot, a hip, and a hand to distribute the force, the door pops opens as if hit by a gust of wind.
Pamleen is only paces behind me. We are fortunate, the lines at the admissions office have dissipated and we skitter to a halt at data entry specialist Sam's desk. EN 120b/5 please... his rapid fingers race - somewhere out there in the six campus system someone else has surely seen this opening and is gunning for it. But Sam's fingers are too fast, Pamleen snags the seat.
I check my chronograph. "42 seconds, Pamleen. Not bad, not yet good enough." I can see the need to run some wind sprints this evening with my advisees, 100 meter repeats to mimic the faculty office to admissions distance.
Behind me I hear data entry clerk Belianna reconfirm to a student that the student is dropping CA 100. I spin around, pull out my phone list, and whip a text message off to Bryce at 870-4822, "CA 100 slot avail. meet me OAR NOW!" Somewhere out on campus Bryce is running inbound to OAR as I fill out his add/drop form.
By the time Bryce comes through the door I tag-team pass off the signed form to Bryce as he then passes on to Sam. Sometimes a team is simply on a hot streak. Score. Bryce snags the CA 100 slot.
Later I return to my office, my minions awaiting. Back in the seat. Reset. Click. Nothing. Reset. Click. Nothing. Patience, however, will be rewarded, and my minions know this. They have faith in me, they know I am the best at middle come - middle serve.
Reset. Click SS 150/3 1 seat now available. "Charleen!"...
Middle come - middle serve: At 9:00 Jack goes to admissions to try to add EN 120b Expository writing, but the class is full. Jack leaves empty handed. Jill drops the class at 10:00. Pamleen adds the class at 10:00:42. Jack returns at 11:00 to see if any student dropped EN 120b but is told that the class is still full. Jack is none the wiser. In a world without waiting lists, middle come is middle served.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any realities present or past is purely coincidental. My bad.
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