As pseudo graduation from the World Reknowned Spelunking Programfast approaches, our eyes turn to jobs that will pay for the loans that hover over us like the huge bolder tottering on the precipice above Wiley. E . Coyote.
And for a moment I get to look back and forward simultaneously–I’m applying for a paid internship this summer. It requires transcripts from all of my colleges. For me, since I transferred schools during undergrad, and have now attended two graduate programs, that list is not as short as it could be.
I ordered my USC transcript this morning. It was $15 bucks–a number that has ceased to appall me– for a document sent electronically to my mailbox. (It’s still official, having a little note over the raised seal saying that it’s not raised, I’m amused by the brazen quality of this, and thankful for the convenience since the whole idea of the official transcript is overwrought in the electronic age anyway.) And this afternoon I ordered my FSU transcript. Was charmed to see the cost was a mere $5. It made me start to get nostalgic for Spanish moss and my old alma mater, until I clicked to the next page and remembered–ah yes–the $5 “convenience fee” for using a credit card.
Anyway, all done now. Mostly sad because I have a deep fear that my application will be passed over because of the last set of transcripts. They can’t ask me how old I am, but they can look at those dates and make some pretty accurate guesses. Makes me so, so sad, because I so think that if I could get in a room, those years wouldn’t make as big a difference as they seem to on paper.