It was everyone's unlucky day at the Office of Career Services (OCS) yesterday, where the miserable weather, uncooperative printers and academic work all conspired against seniors hoping to successfully navigate the recruiting process.

The future consultants and investment bankers faced a 1 p.m. deadline to turn in their packets of resumes and cover letters.

Each year about 700 seniors take part in the recruiting process. They submit their resumes to OCS, which passes them along to interested companies.

A majority of the companies operate under closed bidding, in which seniors use 20 points--of a total of 1,000--to submit materials. But adding to the recruiting stress, some companies accept open bidding, which means they only consider the highest bidding applicants.

Following is an account of the scene in the OCS basement before, at and after the 1 p.m. deadline.

12 p.m.

A troupe of frazzled quadlings boards the shuttle bus. As it careens through the drizzle towards the Square, one rider becomes choked up as she tells her friend how her life--with a formal to plan, a thesis to write and cover letters to complete--is coming apart.

Her friend reminds her compassionately that you "can still ditch your thesis and graduate General Studies." It doesn't help.

12:10 p.m.

There is a small, orderly line at OCS. These seniors are quiet and drowsy. Gloria Milstein, the assistant director for recruiting, is helping them organize their packets correctly.

A physics concentrator from Dunster who has just handed in his applications says he "finished at 8:30 this morning, but there were printer problems." Asked to name one thing about himself that doesn't appear on his resume, the would-be technical consultant said he did not include his height and weight.

He refused to give his name and

He refused to give his name and did not offer his height or weight.

12:20 p.m.

The line in the basement is growing longer, and more students are stepping in and out to sign that last cover letter or re-organize their packets.

Naomi S. Stern '97, who is just about to bound up the stairs to leave, says she finished her materials "an hour ago." Her strategy was to bid 940 points on one open-bidding company and apply to three closed ones.

But the social studies concentrator from Quincy House says her resume didn't adequately convey the amount of time she spends on extra-curricular activities. Her advice to future classes of recruits: "Go to OCS early. I didn't."

12:25 p.m.

The line has swelled out the door of the drop-off room, and, like a grade-school teacher on a field trip, Milstein is prodding and berating the disoriented and disorganized students to stay in line and have their applications in numerical order.

John C. Lin '97, a biology concentrator from Pforzheimer House, says he finished his applications at noon. "I chose companies that didn't require cover letters," he says.

12:40 p.m.

Joe Zawadzki '96, an English concentrator, went beyond the no-cover letter rule. "I chose any company that didn't require a transcript," he says.

The line has turned into an unruly mob, and Milstein is tirelessly telling them to "just relax" and, of course, to order their applications numerically.

12:48 p.m.

Out of pity, this reporter is now directing incoming droves of students to the end of the line. The plentiful and brightly-colored directional signs are not working, and newly-arriving students are wandering erratically, hands shaking, hyperventilating.

12:50 p.m.

Milstein tells the students on their way out not to talk to students still in line. "They haven't turned in their materials yet. They're bad," she yells. She turns her attention to the frantic students in line: "You're all going to work for the recruiting office now. It's $10 an hour for the rest of your life!"

12:59 p.m.

By now, with the line snaking up the stairs and into the lobby, students begin to realize 1 p.m. will not be an ironclad deadline.

One student cracks that "OCS is open until five because they know we'll be turning in our stuff until then."

Milstein admits in private that the recruiting office won't have to bring the applications to a dropoff at Boston University until 3 p.m.

So does this mad rush happen every year?

"Yes," she says.

Will it happen in every year to come?

"Yes. It's a Harvard tradition," she says. "It would be really great if everyone put this off to the last day, but they put it off to the last minute."

1:06 p.m.

Students coming in now are going upstairs instead of downstairs. Everyone in the 54 Dunster St. building is pitching in to steer them in the correct direction.

1:30 p.m.

John J. Applebaum '97 has just turned in his applications for legal consulting and investment banking. His advice? "Start early, dump your papers, don't go to classes, forget your thesis and double-check your resumes," he says. "I haven't done this. My apps are ragged."

Asked what he left off his resume, he says he was planning to put his passion for firearms on it, but thought better of it. "Not in Boston," he says