The emotional turmoil of being on a waitlist

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Willow Yang/File

Forget Facebook. Delete Tinder. What even is Instagram? CalCentral is our latest online obsession. The start of a new semester means that everyone is “Hunger Games”-ing the crap out of class rosters.We obsessively check CalCentral every 0.04 seconds in hopes that we will have moved up on a course waitlist. Full classes mean stressful waitlists, and waitlists mean emotional turmoil.

The ambiguity that comes with sitting pretty just outside of a class roster can really do a number on us. The unknown can be a scary place, and heading into week three with exactly half of our semester schedule figured out is far less than ideal. The hypotheticals we run trying to calculate all of our possible schedule permutations could put any CS code to shame.

Not to mention the crippling domino effect that can occur if one of the classes that you’re banking on getting into falls through. Our schedules are so precariously stacked that a stiff breeze could ruin it all. We’re riddled with anxiety as we navigate our way around Schedule Planner for the umpteenth time this week. Our hands haven’t sweat this much since that game of Operation back in ’07.

As our hopes and dreams hang in the balance, we’re forced to reconsider our life’s course. Do we even want to pursue this minor? How important are classes? What even is college?

We’re ashamed to admit it, but other people’s absence from section and lecture brings us a sick and twisted joy. Their loss is our gain in this zero-sum game, and we’re more than eager to swoop in on some stranger’s spot in a class. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there.

Heaven hath no joy that could ever compare to the elation we experience when we advance from 28th to 27th on the waitlist for a UGBA class. We would hand over our future first-born child for the promise of enrollment. We would surrender Top Dog and boba for the rest of our lives if it meant moving up a single spot on a waitlist for a class that’s a major requirement.

The worst part is that taking said class will quite literally cost us a pretty penny. The ghastly price of textbooks and readers these days means that we’re looking at having to drop some Benjamins to be a part of a course, but that’s a whole other type of emotional turmoil.