Sallie Mae vs FAFSA

[ritaxis]

I don't know what "Sallie Mae" stands for, but I think it has "Stafford" in it somewhere. I assume Stafford was a congressperson who authored the bill that brought Stafford loans into being. These are loans for graduate students, law students, medical students, like that. But they aren't cheap loans like student loans used to be. They're eight and a half percent, though you can bargain them down a point or so in various ways after you graduate. But for students they might be the only loans they can get.

So, U Karlovy 2nd Medical has an agreement with the US dept of Ed which allows US students at their school to partake of these loans. However, when Frank went to start an application there, he found out that his school code, which FAFSA (the central application service) gave him and verified, gets him kicked off the website to the beginning.

So I go on the phone. I speak to two different very nice, very helpful people, and two hours later I have the answer: the FAFSA school code is G33003, but the Sallie Mae school code is 033003. Meanwhile I have a bad hour in there where I can't find the copy of the letter which authorizes Karlovy students to participate, and a new search for 2nd medical faculty (after many iterations of the name of the school in both Czech and English) results in 1st medical and 3rd medical but not 2nd. But verifying the school code by the other route works. Surprisingly (or not?), these school codes are not sequential . . .

Anyway, that's my whole morning gone. However, I did work out some plotting kinks for The Conduit, and I did sweep the kitchen floor, and I did find out that the flat rate priority mail box is about the size of a ream of standard paper ($37 to send him a pair of longjohns and a pair of pants?), and I did print out what I have to read for tomorrow, and I found those longjohns.

late to work.

Comments

Re: Mail to "other places"

[towse.livejournal.com]

We had dinner with a friend and his wife tonight. He's eighty and is clearing out his storage stashes and selling off his "stuff" -- the stuff his kids don't want -- on eBay. He says the USPS online postage is easy-peasy =and= after you attach the labels and stuff (including the customs form) to your package you can just drop it off at the post office counter without waiting in the long lines. (Well, I don't know about =your= long lines, but the ones at the North Beach station can get pretty long.)

Re: Mail to "other places"

[ritaxis.livejournal.com]

I'm still boggled about the move to North Beach. Not because the house you left was so nice -- it was, but it was also a big family-raising house, so I could see you moving once the guys grew up -- but because it's impossible to get a place in North Beach!

But, good, that's what we'll do. Our lines are up and down, but yeah.

Re: Mail to "other places"

[towse.livejournal.com]

B. was born in SF and spent his first few years over in Cow Hollow with his grandparents, while his dad was gone in WW2. He spent a lot of time here while he was growing up and always intended to find his way back.

We're on Telegraph Hill, but NB is our local PO. We can walk or take public transportation almost anywhere. B's two-day-a-week job in Campbell is moving to Sunnyvale soon. Happy day! He can take the train.

Took us eighteen months of Sunday open houses to find the place we did and another day or two to decide that we =could= live without a garage or even a parking space or a street and could walk our groceries down the steps and our recycle out.

I miss the dirt, the backyard. Boy, do I, but we're better off here.

Re: Mail to "other places"

[ritaxis.livejournal.com]

Living in the City is worth not having a car. If I lived in the City, I'd probably live in the Mission, but I'd still not have a car of my own. I'd rent a car when I felt like it. Cheaper in the long run!

I admit there are substantial benefits to your neighborhood -- Molinari, City Lights, Trieste, Hang Ah, Coit Tower (you do not have to be a tourist to love the murals), and really close bus lines.

Though remember that party at Bill Quick's? Frank was fifteen or sixteen. We ended up walking all the way back to my dad's place on the hill at the end of Church Street because the buses had stopped running . . .