Work Files

Photo by Zach K

A couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted to take a class at the local community college.  Art 101, Introduction to Drawing.  I’m taking it for my own personal edification.

I am now living in a maelstrom of having to prove who I am.

I called the community college, where I took Accounting 201 about 6 years ago, to find out how to register, since I couldn’t remember my ID number.

I learned that, since my address has changed, I need to come in and present my ID before I can register.  Oops, where is that change of address card again?

Called the MVA.  Oh, since you changed your address in 2009 and have only now lost the change of address card, you’ll need to come into the office to get that sorted.

Meanwhile, to register for classes I also need an unofficial transcript from my alma mater, McDaniel College, which I guess the community college forgot to get from me before I registered for said accounting class.

Requested the transcript.  It came in the mail 3 days later.  With the wrong name on it.

Oops!  You’re divorced?  And remarried?  We’ll need the divorce decree (from 2001 – time flies) and your marriage certificate, and your driver’s license. Are there any other personal documents I can ravage for you? (She really said that).

Is it okay that my driver’s license has my old address on it?  Thankfully, yes.  Bless you Gail, who works in the registrar’s office of a small town liberal arts college that changes lives.

All this so I can take Art 101.

Funny, isn’t it? In an age where your entire personal history is on display on the internet, you still need a 10 year old piece of paper to prove who you are.