I have decided that this place is run by the Vogons. Compare:
[Vogons] wouldn’t even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the ravenous bugblatter beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters.
versus
To obtain an ID, Columbia requires that you apply for your job electronically, that the head of the labs send an inquiry for papers, receive incorrect ones, send out employee with incorrect papers, have employee be rejected, head call for new papers, new papers arrive too late to obtain ID on given day, employee takes papers in the morning, gets them signed at one location so they make taken a block away to another building where they will be exchanged in return for an application which must be filled out in the sweltering heat before the employee will be begrudingly allowed through the sealed door to where a camera will take his/her picture BADLY.
Eerily similar, neh? Yes, that's right. I go down this morning and begin panicking (DON'T PANIC!) when the lady--not the one I saw last time--says "Hmm, I don't recognize this signature" about my papers. At the point where she starts signing it, I've already formulated thirty reasons why if she doesn't give me my ID, I'll be responsible for homicide (most involving decapitation or severe trauma with a blunt object as I was holding my laptop at the time). Then I get sent alllllll the way away to the place that will let me APPLY to get an ID. And, just to piss in my pond, I get a lousy picture. I resolve not to let it bother me because that would mean they win, and there you are.
I wonder how the staff at HR and the ID centers (plural, too, what nonsense...) are at poetry. Third worst in the universe, you reckon?
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