I attended UCLA for a couple of years. Once after class, I went up and asked the professor a question. He said, "did you not hear me dismiss class? Class is over. You can come ask me whatever you want during my office hours." I looked up his office hours, staked out his office, and he never showed up. Came back the next day he had office hours. Didn't show up then either.

Another time due to the lottery, I was scheduled to register for classes in the last group. Predictably, I did not get into a single class I needed toward graduation. But I was the second on a waiting list for one of them. I showed up for the class. The professor took role and immediately announced those on the waiting list should leave. I went to the Dean and explained my predicament. He said, "oh, well the enrollment is 20 and there are 25 desks, so go tell Professor Witch that I am expanding enrollment to 25." I go back to the class and slip quietly toward a seat in back. Professor Witch says, "Excuse me, what part of the class is full did you not understand?" I explained the Dean had added me since there was room. She screams, "I AM THE PROFESSOR! I SAY WHO WILL AND WILL NOT BE IN MY CLASS! GET OUT!"

It took my brother six years to graduate from Long Beach St in Civil Engineering, because there were several semesters where he either couldn't get the classes he needed to graduate or they weren't offered the semester when he finally got to be one of the first to register.

You want a story about administrators? How about one administrator passing me off to another while I ran between offices for three hours all over campus trying to check on some credits I had transferred. It was always someone else's job. Nobody cared about the student. Parking at UCLA? It barely existed. There isn't room for it. You have to circle like a vulture in the neighborhoods around the campus until you can find something on the street.

I was originally going to go to UC Santa Barbara and study petroleum engineering, but they screwed up and lost my housing application. I call them and ask why I hadn't been notified what dorm I'm in. "Duh, uh, I don't know what happened. All the dorm space is full." I couldn't find any off campus housing by then and that screw up forced me to go to a different school and study something I didn't want to study.

It is hilarious listening to people whine about BYU. When I transferred to BYU, I couldn't believe what a night and day difference it was dealing with a private school with administrators and advisers that seemed eager to help and professors that would let you into the class even though it was technically full.