Chapter 6 - August 22nd
August 22nd arrives and I am waiting at the Voyageur Colonial bus stop on Perth Street in Brockville for the morning bus to take me up to Ottawa for my orientation interview with Camilla Mezaros. Adam has to work today and my Dad as well. So, I am on my own to make this trip to finalize all my courses and pay final tuition for commencement of classes on September 12th. The bus is twenty minutes late and I am starting to worry, because my appointment is scheduled for right after lunch.
Finally, the bus pulls up in front of the station and I hear on the loud speaker, "Voyageur Colonial bus #43 with stops in Maitland, Prescott, Spencerville, Kemptville, North Gower and Ottawa is now ready for boarding. Have your tickets ready and luggage for loading please. And 'thank you' for travelling Voyageur this morning!"
"Just great! A milk run. This will take at least 2 ½ hours to make it up to the Campus at this rate!" I say to myself.
There is a twenty minute layover in Prescott, which adds to the time delay. "Nothing I can do about that now!" I think to myself. Luckily, the stops are quick enroute, with very few people boarding or getting off. So the bus arrives at the Catherine Street station just before noon hour.
I know I am close to my apartment and the Campus. So before leaving the station, I call the rental agent to pick up the key to the place on Argyle Street after my interview and then start to walk over to Algonquin to meet Camilla. "So glad that Adam made sure I knew my way around when he brought me up here. I really wish he could have come with me today," I think to myself.
With the free time I have before my interview, I take the time to walk through the Design Wing of the Campus to check out the classrooms, labs, library and cafeteria. There are six classrooms with divider partitions to close them off and make them smaller when needed. I can see some three-dimensional models and sample boards, renderings and drafting plans and details on the tables and walls from previous students, I am assuming. There are long rows of tables placed length-wise throughout each classroom with drafting surfaces on top of them and stools that look like Chinese torture devices in front of each spot. There are huge windows along the exterior walls that flood each room with natural daylight.
I was told that typically in the first semester, there are between twenty to twenty-five students accepted for the Interior Design program. There is an English Program and a French Program that are completely separate, with different rooms and Professors and Instructors. The drop-out rate is high in the first and second semesters. Usually by second year, the class size shrinks down to fifteen students. And by third year and graduation, there are only six to eight students left to move on and enter the work force. Most of these students wind up working for the Federal Government, doing office planning and design for government buildings in the National Capital Region. A select few are lucky enough to land jobs in Toronto or outside of Canada and really get to experience the whole spectrum of Interior Design and stretch their creative wings with challenging and rewarding careers.
"So you are Aaron Christie," says Camilla Mezaros, as I sit waiting outside her office for my orientation interview. "Come in and show me your portfolio."
I am nervous and can't help but stare at her as I follow her in and sit down before her imposing desk. She has, what looks to be a synthetic platinum blonde wig on and I swear it is backwards on her head! It looks bizarre, as I estimate she must be at least sixty years old. "That damned, stupid wig would likely spontaneously combust if she came into contact with any open flame!" I think to myself. She is wearing a huge red velvet bowtie, that I later discovered was nicknamed Camilla's 'lips' by students already in the program. She is wearing a tight, ill-fitting, grey double-breasted pantsuit that makes her boobs look like they're ready to burst out of it at any moment. To top everything off, she is wearing these oversized coke bottle lense, pale blue, plastic-framed glasses with rhinestones embedded into them that effectively block any direct eye contact and that completely distract me. She looks like a weird cross between Carol Channing and Phyllis Diller! I open my portfolio binder and start to show her some of my work.
She is completely uninterested in what I have to show her and then blurts out, "Just how old are you?"
" 'Ummm', I'll be twenty this December," I reply.
"No one coming from high school directly into this program 'ever' makes it through to the end. There are thirty-five hours of class time and at least the same number of hours required to complete the assignments every week. Most students quit during the first semester. What makes you think 'you' can make it?" she asks and stares at me.
" 'Ummm,' well...Ms. Mezaros, I always wanted to be an Architect and when I started working for my brother-in-law back in Brockville in his paint and wallpaper store, I found that I liked meeting people and they seemed to like what I recommended to them. I studied the course outline for this program, and an Instructor I knew from some sales courses I was taking at St. Lawrence College back in Brockville suggested I apply for enrollment.
"Who was 'this' Instructor?" she asks.
"Isobel Szabo. She taught Professional Salesmanship courses part-time at St. Lawrence College," I reply.
"Szabo ... that's Hungarian...just like me," says Camilla.
The rest of the interview passes with Camilla Mezaros telling me her entire life story. She used to be an aeronautical engineer who worked on drafting and design of weapons and armaments during World War Two, and after the Communist takeover of her country, escaped to Canada with her son and eventually wound up as the Department Head of Design at Algonquin College.
The interview told me everything I never needed to know about her and nothing about the program I was about to enter. By the end of it, I was sitting there and asking myself, "Just what the hell have you gotten yourself into here, Aaron?"
At the end of the interview, Camilla stops talking about herself and looks me straight in the eye and says, "You are a very meek and quiet young man. You know you will really have to get your 'wire' up if you want to survive in this program." When she said the word 'wire', she pointed directly at my crotch and cock and my mouth fell open in complete shock and embarrassment.
I couldn't get out of her office fast enough, after that outrageous remark from her.
"Classes start at 8:30am on September 12th and if you are late or miss more than three consecutive classes in any one semester, you'll get a failing grade for that course and will have to repeat it the next year. You have six full-time courses to get through before the first semester finishes at the end of November. Interior Design One, History of Design, Colour Theory, Design Basics, Building Construction and Basic Drafting. You will have me for Interior Design One. Alan Farside will teach you Building Construction. Elizabeth Mountebank will teach you Colour Theory and Design Basics. Lynda Birdsong will teach you History of Design and Gordon Goodenrich will teach you Basic Drafting."
I walk out of her office in a complete daze and really wish I'd had either Adam or my Dad with me to make some sense of what just happened to me in her office.
"Thanks for meeting me to drop off the key, Jennifer. I just finished over at Algonquin and it looks like I'm going to have a pretty full itinerary and workload for courses for my first semester," I say to the rental agent, as I stand with her on the front porch of the apartment building on Argyle.
"You look like you need a boost of confidence from someone, Aaron. I'm sure you'll do just fine, once you get settled in and into the routine of classes and studies," she says to me. "Good luck, Aaron. If I can answer any questions you have with respect to the apartment or any problems you might have, here is my card and phone number. Don't hesitate to call me any time. And I mean it, 'good luck' again to you!"
There is a hardware store about six blocks down on Elgin Street. "I better get keys made for Mom and Dad and Adam while I'm here," I say to myself. After I do that and start walking back down Elgin Street, I look at my watch and realize it is past three o'clock. "Time for something to eat and then to catch the bus back to Brockville for 5:30pm," I think to myself.
