I am a water aerobics enthusiast. Unlike a traditional aerobics class, no one can see how uncoordinated I am. It’s a beautiful thing.
The course is offered through my local community college. It’s a place where high school seniors can go on to 13th grade instead of college.
The worst part about my water aerobics class is signing up to take it each semester.
There’s a large group of regulars who take the water aerobics class. Three times a year we have to register in person because not one of us can register online. We have all given up trying.
We have not given up complaining though!
None of us understand why the college can’t see how bad their system is. In fact, I’m amazed the 13th graders can figure it out each semester. They should get course credits for accomplishing the task!
And so it came to pass that we were once again standing around in our bath suits and towels complaining about how awful the registration process is.
Our normal ray of sunshine, Rebecca, got us all going this semester when she asked, “Have y’all had trouble signin’ up for the Aqua Boost?”
[She’s been taking this class for over twenty years. Every class she is there, rain, sleet or snow. She greets everyone with her warm Tennessee accent and a smile. I have never heard a complaint from her–even when the water is freezing cold. There is one exception to her chipper mood. Should you get her hair wet, there will be hell to pay.]
Someone replied, “No, I signed up yesterday without any problems. Were you trying to sign up online? There’s no sense trying that. You need to go in person. Their system is horrible.”
“Oh, no! I was doing it in person! Is the online really that bad? I’ve never tried. I don’t deal with computers.”
A chorus of YES echoed around the pool.
My Mom, filled with pride told Rebecca, “It’s really that bad,” pointing to me she continued, “She does this for a living and can tell you how bad it really is.”
Rebecca turned her attention to me. She looked at me with narrowed eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen any hint of anger in them. Suddenly that sweet Tennessee accent had some tension in it.
“Is it like Oracle?” she asked carefully, “They came in to the school system and messed the whole thing up. So if it’s like Oracle that’s all you need to say.”
REBECCA knew what Oracle was?!
And based on her exposure to Oracle she equates it with horrible, broken and complicated?!
“Yes! Yes, Rebecca. It IS like Oracle.”
With a roll of her eyes and a sigh she replied, “That’s all you had to say.”
My new life long goal: Never create anything so bad that someone describes it as being like Oracle.