On the whole, I'm quite happy with my experience here at Bates. The criticisms of the institution I've posted on my blog previously are really quite superficial. The economics department could require a little more math, some professors really irk me, and it wouldn't hurt for the dining services people to serve some real bread.

But there is one office so ineptly staffed and managed I almost feel obliged to single them out for the inexcusably bad treatment they've given me in the past three years. Here's to you, Housing Office, for doing a really terrible job.

Before I go any further, I should explain how the college allocates housing to students after their first year. First, the Housing Office divides the student body into three sets by class year (e.g., the set of students in the class of 2013). Then, within each set, the Housing Office randomly orders the students in that set. As such, the seniors-to-be all have better positions than the juniors-to-be, and so on. Finally, over the course of three evenings, the three sets of students queue in our old dining hall and choose their rooms by scrawling their names on giant laminated floor plans of the various residence halls. The process in and of itself is rife with inequities and inefficiencies. I blogged about this last year, at about this time.

So how did the Housing Office inspire this vitriolic tirade?

This year, as in the previous two years I've been here, the Housing Office erroneously grouped me with the class of 2012, not the class of 2011 as they should have. The mix up is not entirely ridiculous, given that I matriculated in the middle of the 2007-2008 academic year, rather than at the beginning with most of my peers. Through, at the moment, thanks to the bevy of Advanced Placement exams I took in high school, I should graduate with the class of 2011 next spring. And even if I take a whole eight semesters to graduate, I would still graduate in the winter of 2011. (That said, after mis-categorizing me for two years, I feel like they should have made a note next to my name.)

Last year and two years ago, however, the folks in the housing office at least made an attempt to fix their errors. This year they obdurately refused to do anything about the issue. And not only that, but they were also less than pleasant (to put it mildly) about the whole incident.

Admittedly, I'm at least partly to blame for this mess. For in the previous two years, I spotted their mistake before they had assigned the lottery numbers, which apparently makes making changes easier. (This too makes me worry. Either they need to use different software or they're even more inept than I make them out to be.)

Even so, I did contact the Housing Office prior to the housing lottery actually taking place. Yet they were unflinchingly unhelpful. Even after I pointed out I had number 2067 (or something thereabouts) last year, versus 2129, which they assigned me this year, they were unwilling to make a change. Their last email to me regarding this subject closed, "There is really nothing we can do to change your class year." Up to that point, it must be said, I was annoyed, but hardly furious.

And in light of that communication, I diligently showed up earlier this very evening for the housing lottery for juniors-to-be. I did, however, arrive a few minutes early to make one last ditch attempt to reap the benefits of my having been here five semesters. It was this encounter that confirmed my belief that the Housing Office needs some significant personnel changes and a serious revamp.

After speaking to a variety of people, I was referred to one woman whose name I really should have taken down. She was so inept, I think she may have dethroned the tech support representative who claimed I knew nothing about using computers and hung up on me, in terms of really horrible interpersonal relations.

I asked her, "Would it be possible for me to at least cut in front of all the juniors?" I thought this a very reasonable proposal, given that I would still have had, in essence, the worst number among the members of the class of 2011. To which she responded by posing a question so idiotic it makes me question the intrinsic rationality of all humanity just to regurgitate it here: "Do you think that would be fair?"

Her tone left no doubt that the question was designed to be mocking, to convey to me the absurdity of my request. But it was her decision, not my request, that was absurd. First of all, the housing lottery is designed to give students a better room with each year. In my case, however, the fact that I actually had a better lottery number last year meant that, at least in the abstract, my room quality would decline over time. Second, if we were to travel back in time three years and apply the same standard the Housing Office used this year then, as a sophomore-to-be, rather than participating in the housing lottery at all, I would have been randomly assigned a roommate and put into first year housing. It just makes no sense.

And beyond that, this woman made absolutely no effort to express sympathy or understanding for my frustration. Did she apologize and point me to the convenient table of refreshments? No. Instead she treated me in the way I would treat an insubordinate three-year-old. As I continued to press my case, making many of the arguments I've presented here, she gave me the, "I'm not going to stand here and argue with you," line in a tone dripping with condescension. It was at that point I dropped my smile, reasonable tone of voice and generally composed demeanor, and closed with my most harshly worded verbal jab of the conversation, "This is absurd."

Most so-called elite colleges and universities, mine included, make a big deal of the fact they treat students like people and not faceless, emotionless blobs of human flesh. And, to be honest, my institution lives up to that standard almost all the time. But in this one instance, they stuck so steadfastly to their formulaic procedure and acted with such inconsiderateness that I feel almost as if my rights have been violated. This experience is really anathema to the whole idea of a liberal arts education and institution: one that is thoughtful, reasonable and that takes logic seriously.

Addendum

There's one part of that story I forgot to mention. At some point in my conversation with the inept woman, I asked her if I could appeal her decision or talk to her superior. In a move worthy of the very worst customer service representatives I've interacted with, she flippantly dismissed even the notion she could be in the wrong with a comment to the effect of, "Let's just say the buck stops with me." (I'm paraphrasing, but that was the gist of her muddled response.)