Warning: This is a rant. Inflammatory content, cursing, rage, and obscenity to follow. Enjoy.
So, apparently when I had to depend on student loans (OSAP) to attend university, I missed the little clause that stated I was also required to submit to a minimum once-yearly surprise-fuck. And not the fun kind that results in lots of orgasms and fun bruises. No, this is the kind where you’re out doing the groceries when suddenly, you get bent over the frozen lasagne and fucked in the ass with no warning, no lube, and without the basic courtesy of a reach-around.
At the moment, I can’t quite tell if the current surprise-fuck is actually happening, or if it’s just a nightmare. The Pinch of Reality hasn’t come along to tell me yet, but I’m gonna cross my fingers and hope that a blinking panic attack is the worst I’m going to have to deal with this time round.
But, just to prove that I am not, in fact, exaggerating, here are the ghosts of Surprise-Fucks Past:
First Year: My funding was withheld until November — when I was nearly kicked out for failure to pay my fees — because someone didn’t file the fucking paperwork I’d handed in to them six weeks prior. Because of someone else’s cock-up, I had to run around sending letters and providing proof of OSAP funding so the bureaucrats didn’t turn surprise buttsex into a gangbang by expelling me.
Second Year: I was thrown in the back of a windowless van, taken to a warehouse and fucked from dusk ’til dawn, and then left to wander home on my own. It all started in the second semester. First, I booked an appointment with the Student Aid Officer to do the paperwork so I could have my funding released. I showed up at the appropriate time, and was told that it was lunch hour, no one was there to process my documents, and no, there was no time after lunch ended because they were booked solid for the next week. Okay, then. I rebook the appointment. This time, I find out that my ID has expired, so they won’t process my documents. So after a trip to a Ministry building to renew my ID at the end of the week, I rebook the appointment for a second time. At that point, I was ready to murder someone if I couldn’t get this fucking paperwork filed. Luckily, I was able to file it.
Unfortunately, I ended up docked a significant amount of funding upon being reassessed, leaving me with a $750 deficit to somehow make up. Because money obviously grows on trees. I was saved at first because the scholarship I’d won was awarded to me early, covering what I would have owed the university. But there was still the small matter of paying off the textbooks I’d bought on my credit card. Once the non-automated part of my funding came through, I should have been able to pay off the credit card and my parents.
Only, OSAP wasn’t done ploughing me yet. Because the cheque that was supposed to be mailed to me was sent to the wrong address. Thus I had to fill out more paperwork to launch an investigation as to the whereabouts of the original cheque, and hopefully have the damn thing reissued to me at the correct address. By the time all that nonsense was finally sorted out, the academic year had been over for a month and I had no dignity left.
Third Year: It began innocently enough with an overhaul of the system. New paperwork to file, so they could streamline the process and make it paperless for the remaining years of my education. Sounded great, the process wasn’t too hard, tried to breathe easy. And then I got my notice of assessment, which basically said that I could scrape by this year if I didn’t spend a penny on anything except textbooks. Used textbooks. That wasn’t fun. And then I received my first notice of reassessment: suddenly, I was going to get more money. Okay, I started to breathe a little easier. Then I got my second notice of reassessment, which said I was going to get the same amount of money as the first reassessment said I was going to get, I was just getting it from different people. Um, okay then. And then the third notice of reassessment comes in to say, “oopsie! We actually should have given you x amount more.”
Fourth Year: This was one Fatherbot’s fault. He didn’t file some paperwork he should have when he should have, so I didn’t have the information I needed to file paperwork I needed to. By the time I got it all in, I was at the bottom of the pile and my e-application was going to be processed last. So the jury was out on when my funding was going to arrive. And then the financial Aid Officer decided to take a week-long vacation, in the middle of September, smack in the middle of processing everyone’s funding. What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I was relatively fortunate that I didn’t have a repeat of first year, where they threatened to kick me out, but it was a near thing.
And now this. Reassessed at the end of the fucking semester, and told that they gave me too much money. I’m communicating with the Financial Aid Officer now, trying to determine if I will need to pay the money back, or if it will be deducted from next year’s loan, or . . .
Fuck sakes. This makes me wish I could turn my ass into a cactus so the goddamn government will stop trying to fuck it.
I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.