I'm trying to decide at what point "real life" thought it would be fine to intrude on my time as a University student. It didn't happen all at once. In fact, it seems "real life" slowly has been creeping up on me, hoping that if it moves slowly enough, I won't notice it.
It made a brief appearance last fall when I scrambled for off-Grounds housing and signed my first, big legal document without either of my parents present. But after that, I still lived in Lambeth Commons for the rest of that year, my rent and tuition were paid and "real life" escaped me. It was not until late in June, when leases, rent checks and a whole slew of other responsibilities crept into my life. "Real life" crawled out of its hole and made itself very comfortable in my living room.
The electricity wasn't set up, my room needed a subletter and ants were marching in the kitchen. Money management was involved. For my first dose of reality, this seemed daunting.
But after settling in for a few months, reality didn't seem too bad. We got into a routine, and although "real life" reared its ugly head occasionally, it didn't disrupt us too much. Last week, just as I was getting a little too comfortable, real life crept in with a vengeance. First, our broken washing machine was ignored for the second week in a row by our landlords, as my supply of clean clothes dwindled ever closer into the critical zone. While I was being forced to get creative with my matching, I got a letter from Student Health telling me that I do not have insurance - which, by the way, I do - and as a result, would have to pay the bill for a sick visit a few weeks ago out of pocket. Then, for its grand finale, "real life" made me a special Friday morning surprise by sending one of its minions to smash in the window of my car Thursday night. How thoughtful.
But I have news for "real life." I figured out a way to thwart it that is actually pretty simple. All you have to do is pick up the telephone and ask for help.
I dreaded having to call patient financial services about my insurance, but once I did, it wasn't that bad - apart from the office's terrible taste in music. The office quickly found the mistake, promised to fix it and that was that. Having to call 911 about my car seemed even more frightening. My phone went into scary emergency mode once I hit the numbers and called for me even though it wasn't really an emergency. Luckily, the 911 operator was very understanding, and it took the police less than 30 minutes after I called to come and check out my car.
"Real life" almost got me with the washing machine. We had already called about getting it fixed, so the telephone didn't seem quite as powerful. And then I discovered the all-important follow up call. Apparently, dropping the "I called about this two weeks ago, why hasn't it been fixed yet?" bomb is pretty effective, especially when you use the right tone of voice - somewhere in between polite and crisply aggravated. Still, I'm sure that this was only the exhibition game with "real life," and I will definitely need some more moves when I get outside the college cushion. But for now I know that even when I am dreading dealing with reality, sometimes it is fixed simply by a quick phone call.
Katie's column runs every Tuesday. She can be reached at k.mcnally@cavalierdaily.com.
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