The decisions you have to make

I’ve had a visitor in my flat for the past week, my lovely companion and life coach Dianne has been in town getting some work done… literally. She has been doing contract work for a large consulting company over the past six months or so which affords her the marvelous opportunity and excuse to visit me on a more regular basis.

On the other hand, it also provides her with more opportunity to energetically rearrange my environment.

The latest adventure has involved her and I debating over curtains versus area rugs. We both agree my flat needs more fabric in it’s environment to reduce the amount of echo from the floors and doors. What we couldn’t agree on was which would work and/or work better. Her argument was for curtains. Mine was for area rugs.

We looked at area rugs. We looked at curtains. I conceded to curtains and we found a set that matched the linen in my bedroom so we decided we’d dress up my bedroom window first.

She asked me what kind of curtain rod I would like and my first choice was for a dark wood. She grabbed a six foot rod from a selection of dark red wood and I raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It’s a little long, isn’t it? My bedroom window isn’t that wide.”

“I’m sure it is. It’s a two paned window.”

“Two panes, yes, but I don’t think they’re that wide.”

Dianne moved over to a bin of metal curtain rods that were adjustable.

“Well, you could go for one of these. They’re black metal, and adjustable from 84 inches down to 56. You’d be guaranteed to get the right size.”

She then turned to me, wood curtain rod in one hand and metal one in the other.

“So… you can be right, or you can have wood.”

I blinked.

“You just defined marriage.”

I got wood, but it did turn out to be a bit long…

Ching, clunk, stamp, zip, woosh

So… I’m trying to go back to school.

Being “categorically unemployable” has really crushed my spirit, but I need to fight on. About the only thing I can think of to do this with is more education. If the menial jobs won’t hire me for being too educated and the educated jobs won’t hire me for being under educated the only response I can think of is to increase my education.  The opposite just seems too… paradoxical and destructive.

To that end I’ve applied to SAIT for… well, I don’t want to say what I’ve applied for just yet. I was thinking Accounting initially but got lured away by another topic. We’ll see if we can get in. If not, then I’ll try Accounting.

As it turns out Alberta has a new system in place that unites all your educational records under one student ID number, so once I filled out my information online the process to apply to SAIT was practically automatic. Just a few mouse clicks and they already had my college transcripts and my application is almost complete.

Now I just have to prove I can read and write English.

There’s a new Requirement for submission. In addition to having adequate marks in your transcripts you must now also meet the English Proficiency Standard.

What is the English Proficiency Standard, you ask? It’s a standard that proves you have the minimum required ability to read and write English. It’s proven either by having successfully attended an English speaking school for three consecutive years or by writing an English Proficiency test.

Oy.

So I call SAIT up to find out how I can meet this requirement and get my application rolling. The lady on the other end of the phone asks if I’ve graduated high school. I have, I reply, graduated from high school. In Alberta, she asks? No, in Saskatchewan, I say.

Oh, she says, and verbally stumbles about for a few minutes. I interrupt her shuffling by telling her that I did, in fact, attend SAIT a few years ago. She brightens up at this and says Oh then we might have your high school transcripts on file. Some mumbling and shuffling later she comes back with the result that, yes, SAIT does recognize that I completed high school (in 1983, god I’m old) but it doesn’t have my actual marks. As such, they can’t use that for the English Proficiency requirement. I’d have to get them a copy of my official transcripts.

How do I do that, I ask?

Three long, dry minutes of fumbling and muttering follow after which she finally conjures up a phone number for me to call.

No web site? No central database of scholastic records? No single student ID to cover all of Saskatchewan’s great students?

No, just a phone number. And the wrong one, at that. I called it, started in on my spiel, and was quickly interrupted by the lady on the other end who informed me that I totally had the wrong number. After two or three minutes of audible page shuffling she finally found what she believed the correct phone number would be.

I dialed that number and was promptly greeted by a thick east Indian accent. I suppressed the urge to ask if the person had every managed their English Proficiency Standard and instead started asking about getting a transcript of my high school marks sent to SAIT. The fine fellow at the other end informed me that it wasn’t the sort of thing they could do over the phone for me (with, I felt, a tone of someone who feels he’s explaining the obvious to an idiot) and that I would, instead, have to apply in person or via their web site.

Finally, I thought, a helpful web site hosting all the information I could need complete with a nice, simple, everyday form to fill out with my appropriate visa number or paypall address to complete the transaction in a matter of minutes.

Well, no, actually. As it turns out I had to delve through a number of confusing pages (not quite as bad as the Canadian Government web site, but built by similarly minded individuals, I suspect) to finally arrive at one .pdf page to fill out and either mail in (as in with an envelope and stamp, possibly carried by dog team) or fax in.

That’s right, you read it: fax in. That’s their high tech solution. Makes me wonder why I ever left the province.

So I download the form, print it off, fill it out… then I scan it back onto my computer, insert the image into a document, save it as a .pdf file, and then use my e-mail to fax it back to them. Felt like I was using modern machinery to send  a document back in time.

I now wait for the scribe in Saskatchewan to compose my transcript and attach it to a pigeon leg or something.

Fogged Head

I hate colds, but head colds can sometimes be fun, sort of a free head trip. This morning I made breakfast including a pot of tea. Put the water on to boil, poured it into the tea pot when it was done boiling, then kind of forgot about it. Discovered the tea pot a little later when I started putting the dishes in the dishwasher. The lid was off, so the tea was getting cold pretty fast. But that’s okay, I thought, I like strong tea and don’t mind it pre-cooled. So I put the lid on and went to get myself a cup.

A few seconds later I found myself pouring lukewarm water into my tea cup.

I had forgotten the crucial step of actually putting some tea into the tea pot.

Yeah, time to up the dosage.

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