I fucking hate this school

Alright, well, where to begin? I guess I should start with: My wonderfully shitty school decided to drop me off the roster yesterday.
See, my univeristy is the perfect model of bureaucratic bullshit. Nothing is easy at this place. "You want to graduate? Here's a packet of ten things to fill out. Oh, you're coming back for grad school? Well, here's a list of ten other forms to fill out." Three months later: "Well, we don't have you registered as a grad student, so you must not have been accepted into the grad school."
Okay, look, here's the deal: I went through a group interview process that made me feel good about my future. I beat out some people who I figured were shoe-ins and probably more worthy than me (alright, maybe not, I just like to try and be humble every now and then). I was personally told by my future mentoresque person that I got in, I got about a dozen letters saying I got in, I changed my application to make sure that the summer classes I'm currently in counted for my grad work. I'm in the fucking graduate school.
The only thing is, somewhere along the way, that change in application never happened. I never got changed over from an undergrad to a grad student. A friend of mine who was having the same problem and is in the same program as me told me that she had to go through a whole long-ass process that finally ended with one person who was able to change her status in an instant. She gave me the name of this miracle worker on Friday. I tracked her down on Monday morning, only to find out that the entire grad school office was moving to a new building that day and that the miracle worker wouldn't be taking students that day. Fine, I'll come back the next day. As long as I get it fixed this week, I figured I was okay.
Tuesday I track her down in her new spot and ask her to change my status. "Okay," she says. "I've changed it, but it looks like you've been dropped from your classes." The phrase "What the fuck?" was on the tip of my tongue; luckily, only the first syllable made it out. "Yeah, looks like it dropped you, um, today. So, just go to Student Billing and explain it to them and I'm sure it won't be a problem." Heh. She's never met anyone from Student Billing, I see.
So, I go to work and find out that I was dropped from my classes by "Student Request or Resignation." I'm pretty sure I didn't fill out a resignation form, but it might have been in one of those piles, I don't really know.
I finally make it over to Student Billing at 3 p.m. and they tell me that I never paid for the semester. Which is entirely true. No, I'm not a deadbeat, I was just waiting on my Financial Aid papers to come in through the mail. So, the Student Billing people said that I needed to take that up with Financial Aid and, oh, by the way, you're going to be charged $50 as a reinstatement fee. The phrase "the world turned red" just doesn't quite explain how furious I was at that moment. It's a testiment to, um, I really don't know what kept me from not blowing up at the woman right then and there. "Um, no," I said. "I never got any paperwork, this is not my responsibility. It's not my fault that I never got anything through the mail about this, and it's not right of you to try and charge me for this." The line from Moby Dick sticks out in my head: "He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it." That's how I felt at that moment, but I held it in.
I ran up to Financial Aid, spoke with a woman who told me, "Oh, everything is completely online now. You'll have to go here, do this, and then print it out and show them downstairs in Student Billing." Alright, fine. I run back to my workplace, do what the woman told me, borrowed enough money from the government to buy a new mid-sized car, and ran back to Student Billing (oh, and it seriously looked like it might rain at this point. Just rain, nothing else). My rage was a cold, hard lump in my chest. If they told me to go one more place, I was going to burst. The guy there looked at the paper, typed in some stuff, and BAM, I'm back in the university. I walk up the steps from the dungeon that Student Billing is in only to find that a tempest has worked its way out of a Shakespeare book somewhere and was tearing up the real world. It fell in buckets. I stood there for a few moments, quietly saying "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!" (King Lear for those who don't know). It was amazing just how hard it was coming down. I helped one girl open the door so she could get in and water actually flooded into the building (HA!). I ended up running the entire way back to my workplace sans umbrella. I was so soaked when I got back that I took my overshirt off, wrung it out, left it to dry for 4 hours, and it was still wet when I left. Of course, half-an-hour after I got back to work, it was sunny out and the rain had dried up completely by 8 p.m.
Well, that's how shitty my yesterday was. On the bright side, today couldn't be as shitty by comparison, so there's that. My Shakespeare professor this morning actually walked up to me and said, "Oh, I don't know if you know, but as of yesterday morning, you aren't on the roster anymore." I explained that I should be on it now, but if he tells me tomorrow that I'm not, somebody is going to die.
So, see, unless, like a parent or sibling or spouse died today, you can take heart in knowing that your yesterday was probably far better than mine.
Peace out, biatches!

No SotP this time; just not enough hours in the workday. Sorry.