Across our unfortunately hilly campus here at Cal, students everywhere are in turmoil; listen closely and you can hear their vexed breathing. But it’s not because of the workout that is trying to walk to class.
They’re suspended in limbo, perpetually waiting, like every single student at Berkeley is waiting for chicken strips to return to GBC.
Their pain resembles that of “a postmortem suffering short of everlasting damnation.”
They’re on… The Waitlist.
As is seasonally appropriate, news regarding Waitlist Purgatory is spreading fast. You may not see them or hear them, but those on the waitlist are officially among us.
In fact, they look just like us. The only difference is the wild look in their eye that says, at any given moment, they might just do something crazy.
Some say that if you stare hard enough at them, you can just make out a faint orange triangle hovering above their heads, indicating that they have yet to fulfill their temporal punishment. Like a Sims character, they walk around aimlessly and go through the motions of real life: going to class, doing homework, threatening professors, sobbing on the Sproul Hall steps. But they never escape this shadow world they inhabit.
Poor players who strut and fret their hours upon the stage, and then are heard no more… Unless, by some gift of a merciless and whimsical God (CalCentral), they see the green circle and follow it.
Truly, UC Berkeley students aren’t stressed enough. And Waitlist Purgatory can be thought of as a purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of actually being able to take a class that you need or– god forbid– interests you at the university you attend. Imagine that!
And tuition? Just like indulgences! The more money you pay, the more your chance of gaining admittance to the heavenly garden of Robert Reich’s Wealth and Poverty class increases at infinitesimal intervals. Only after submerging yourself in debt in the hopes of attaining salvation do you realize that this world is incredibly unfair and nothing you do can change your fate. It is completely out of your hands. Bureaucracy is a cruel mistress.
Many say Wait List Purgatory is comparable to a sick amalgamation of the waiting requisite of the post office, the DMV, and the line for Space Mountain, but we say it is much worse.
A moment of silence for our fallen.