The Onestart bouncers

In the movie “A Night at the Roxbury,” Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan play the roles of two uncool guys who try desperately to get into the best, most exclusive nightclub in town.
They don’t give up hope that one day they will see the inside of the Roxbury.
Until then, they spend the majority of their time waiting in the line to get into the club.
I never thought I’d identify with any of the characters in Will Ferrell’s repertoire, but I recently came to the discovery that I am, in fact, that girl trying desperately to get in.
I’m not referring to admission into a nightclub.  
Last week, Onestart was the line outside the club and it didn’t seem to matter what number I was on the waiting list, or which important people I knew; I wasn’t getting into that class.
I was enrolled in 13 credits and, in order to graduate on time, I really needed that three-credit class to open up and let me in.
I tried everything. It was like the Onestart system hired a big, mean bouncer to keep the riff-raff out of the class.  
I felt rejected. I worked harder to be in that class than any of the students who enrolled before me.
I had the registrar’s office on temporary speed dial and wasted a bit too much of their time asking for advice and complaining about the system.  
Their answers were always the same: just keep waiting. If you’re lucky, someone will drop the class and a spot on the roster will open up.
As No. 1 on the waiting list, I had to have faith that it would all work out. Someone was bound to drop. And if they didn’t, I would just have to wipe someone’s name off the list myself (insert evil laughter here).
Relax. I’m kidding. Violence is never a solution.
In the sixth conversation with the registrar’s office, I was told that my position on the waiting list was irrelevant.
After the first week of classes the wait list becomes moot and a new system opens up for misfits like me. The system is called eDrop/eAdd and it’s the equivalent of writing a letter to the bouncer persuading him to let you in the club.
I received an e-mail a few hours later informing me that I was still rejected. The class was closed, and I wasn’t invited in.
Since my buddies at the registrar’s office were still on my speed dial, I immediately contacted them and explained my situation through frustrated tears.
It was like getting Paris Hilton on the phone and asking her if she’ll pull a few strings to get me into the club. I guess the woman from the registrar’s office felt bad for me because she added me into the class manually.
She basically grabbed my hand, kicked the bouncer where it hurts, and that is how I was accepted into the 16-credit hour club. I have seen the inside of the Roxbury and it was worth the wait.