God's Compensation/Ignore him
No, it is probably just your imagination. You have got to have something wrong with you. Your mind wanders to the idea that you might be going schizo, but it could also just be nerves from what has happened so far today. After all that, who wouldn't be a little paranoid?
At any rate, you continue to keep your place in line. It is a little unnerving having to just stand there as the people at the desk seem to take about 10 minutes per person, but at least there are three receptionists up there. Eventually, they get through the work-load of people ahead of you and it is your turn next. You approach the registrar's desk, and suddenly you realize just how strange what you are about to tell them actually is. How do you tell them without them thinking you are totally nuts? Well, the best way would probably be to start off vague and stick to the facts.
“What can I help you with today?” The receptionist asks.
“Umm... there seems to be something wrong with my registration, I gave my student ID number and it brought up the wrong student.”
“Can I see your student ID card?” They ask, to witch you let out an internal sigh of relief as you hand over the 2.5” by 4” piece of plastic. You know what they are probably going to find, but for some reason you feel a lot more at ease that they are actually addressing this seriously. “Hmm... yeah. I see the problem.” They say as the look up. “This is definitely not you I have on the screen here. How about you key in your social security number?” With that, they indicate a small pad on the desk witch you key in the 9 digits of your government birth ID into, and then the receptionist begins typing away at their keyboard for a short while.
Finally someone seems to be trying to work to help you with this. A sense of confidence starts to return to you a little. You do not know what went wrong in the system, but you are sure you are about to get to the bottom of it.
“I'm sorry,” the receptionist says, “It says here that you are not a student at this school.”
“Huh?” you respond dumbly as it suddenly feels like the floor has just collapsed from under you.
“Well, that's what it says.” The guy gestures toward his computer screen. “I don't know what to tell you, there's really nothing I can do to help at this point. Maybe if you can find some of your school documents? That's about all I can offer you.”
What the hell is going on? Did all record of you just disappear from the school's computers? Maybe it's some kind of computer virus. But that's not quite right, your lab-tech didn't seem to know who you were either. What the hell?