Please Punch Me in the Face Repeatedly

I feel like a character in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil.

Have you seen Brazil?  In the beginning, a fly splatter changes the name of a terrorist suspect from Tuttle to Buttle. The innocent Buttle is apprehended through a hole cut in his ceiling, terrorized and killed. His neighbor attempts to track down what happens, but gets tied up in bureaucratic red tape at Information Retrieval.

It’s actually quite funny.

My dilemma with the state education department is not so much.

My initial certification is set to expire in 14 days. I became aware of this by an automatic email sent Jan. 3 through my school’s business office.

My reaction: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccck!

I had assumed (what’s the expression about assumed? Oh yes, that it makes your life a living, fucking hell) that I just would be professionally certified. I had already taken the tests, said the Pledge backwards and forwards, perfected the art of shushing.

A week after the automatic email, I received a form letter from my school informing me of my impending shitcannery unless I get my prof certz.

So I’m on this. I pretty much needed evidence that I taught kids the Dewey Decimal System for three years, and I filed that paperwork under 020 (Dewey Classification for Library and Information Sciences, boo-yah).

Here’s the rub, and it’s not the good rub that relaxes you, but the kind that causes your shoulders to hunch up–my paperwork is in the bowels of the state ed department, awaiting some clerk to rip open an envelope, stick the paperwork on top of towering stack of 10,000 other applicants, and shove it under the nose of an evaluator.


Yes, this is the year 1964 for those who may be wondering. Have you seen those new giant computers that are the size of airplane hangers. They is something! I bet in the future they get even bigger!

This envelope could be opened tomorrow.

It could also be opened three months from now, meaning I get my dandy certificate 59 days after I get fired.

This is me: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccck!

“I thought this could be expedited,” me to certification person.

“It can’t be expedited until they get the paperwork,” certification person to me

“Can I just bring the paperwork directly to them. I will do that,” me to certification person.

“You won’t be let in the building,” certification person to me.

“So my job, my livelihood, is at the mercy of a mailroom? There is nothing I can do?” me to certification person.


I guess my next stop is Information Retrieval.