More magical fun than you can handle

As the applications deadlines loom, college recruiters get a little loopy. They want to get as many students to choose from as possible, and that means emailing every possible students five times a day until the fateful deadline day passes. All this pressure has to be getting to them, since their emails have gotten odder. This says nothing about the schools, which are all very reputable and educational I'm sure, Cabin Fever can affect anyone.

Consider this subject line from Mills College in Oakland, California: "The Magic Runs Out At Midnight"

The Mills application is due at midnight, which explains part of the title. The rest of the subject was obviously inspired of the mystical magical semester of Senior year where any free time is spent blissfully writing essays, typing up majestic community service activity sheets, and filling out the same personal information again and again. If only I could be there once again. Too bad the magic runs out at midnight. At least I had it while it lasted.

St. Olaf's most recent email gave me a glimpse of what people think is "fun" in their hallowed halls. "Meanwhile, for a little fun…As inspiration to push you through to the final “submit,” play our fight song and imagine yourself being cheered on as an Ole (or at least envision explaining to your friends how your college fight song is a waltz). Or how about some serious fun? Become a fan of St. Olaf on Facebook and get your questions answered while you finish up your application."

What's that Liz? You want to hang out Thursday? Well, I would except I've kinda got the St. Olaf fight song cued up for the next three hours. It's just so peppy.

Sorry Steve, I can't go out with you this weekend. I'm joining a St. Olaf group on Facebook! Pressing that join button is more fun than the movies, and they have helpful-slash-informative answers to all my questions about my application.

I don't know, maybe I'm just not cut out for the excitement of life at Olaf.

Needy much?

When I checked my email Saturday night, this email was staring back up at me*:

Subject:Why haven't I heard from you?

Applications are pouring in here at Whitworth University, and I'm a bit concerned because I haven't seen yours and the extended deadline is January 15. If you've recently submitted it - thank you - I'll be in touch! But if not, I would like to remind you why the Dean's Priority Application best way to apply...(insert long boring description of the Dean's application which I found dull here)... It doesn't get much better than this (did I mention how convenient the application is?).I look forward to seeing your application and wish you a happy new year!

Regards,
Fred R. Pfursich (pronounced fur-sic)
Vice President for Admissions and Financial Aid
Whitworth University

Wow. Hands down this is the most pathetic email I have ever received. Colleges receive hundreds, maybe thousands of applications every year. It would sadden me to think that they are so desperate to get students that they have to beg each and every possible student to submit this application. This approach changes my entire view of the school. It stops being a high-falutin' ivory tower, and instead becomes an overly worried parent who throws a hissy fit if you don't call ever ten minutes.

Next, it assures you that "I'll be in touch!" So, if the tone of this email is any indication, not only is the application staff at Whitworth needy, they're excited to start a motherly stalker relationship with their students. "Have you had dinner yet, you really should, I'm getting worried about your health." "Now Susan, you haven't visited office hours in the last two weeks, and we're concerned."

Mr. Pfursich also assures me that college applications don't get much better than the Dean's Application. I think he's trying to be casual, and put students at ease, but since I haven't heard the phrase "it doesn't get much better than this" in an infomercial, that was filmed in the late nineties, the effect is totally radical.

He also makes sure we know how to pronounce his, admittedly difficult, last name. Whitworth has over twenty five hundred students, so somehow I doubt that every one of them is buddy buddy enough with the Admissions Vice president that they need to know his name. Even if they are, couldn't he tell them how to pronounce it when they talk to him? Was it so scaring to him, as a child, when people couldn't pronounce his name, that he has to include a pronunciation on every document he writes? Does he write a little note saying "it's pronounced fur-sic" on every utilities bill, tax form, and Starbucks order?

Sorry Whitworth, I'm done with my college apps, and I don't think I'm applying to there. Don't worry, it's not you, it's me.

*This is the actual email, but it has been shortened because the original email was longer, and most of it was pretty dull. The original meaning, though is not changed.