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    Time To Moooove To Another Cowllege

    | Missouri | Top

    (For three years, my job was to deal with angry parents. I was very good at it. Most of the time.)

    Parent: *angrily* “I need to speak to someone about my daughter’s roommates!”

    Me: “Okay, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

    Parent: “Her roommates are awful to her! ”

    Me: “Okay. Can you detail the problems for me? The more specific you can be, the better we can help your daughter and her roommates settle their problems.”

    Parent: “They curse, and they play loud music, and they’re, well, they’re just not *like* us.”

    Me: “In what way are they not *like* you, ma’am?”

    Parent: “Well, they’re…farm people.”

    (Twenty seconds of absolute silence as I am, for once, thrown off my game. I’ve heard racial B.S. and religious B.S., but never *farm* B.S.)

    Parent: “Not that there’s anything wrong with farm people. It’s just that we’re not farm people.”

    (I’m still in shock. She keeps going.)

    Parent: I mean, farms are useful, but we’re from the city. My daughter grew up going to the theater and to museums.”

    Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you, as a kid from a farm myself, I’ve been to the theater and to museums. What we probably have here is a personality clash.”

    (There’s about a 10 second pause that just drips with uncomfortable.)

    Parent: “Perhaps I should speak to someone else.”