For the past three hours the uncooperative, cantankerous Northeastern registration process has been waging an all out war on me. It’s winning.
War began at 5 p.m. I was ready for battle. I had ammunition: the schedule I wanted, a backup, a backup for the backup. I’d planned ahead because I knew what this jerk service was capable of.
4:50 – I’m in front of the computer, logged into myNEU.
4:52 – My finger is on the mouse, ready to click. Nervous, palms moist, anticipating
