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“Leave a message…”


“This is Nick…” 


“Hi, I’m getting back to Nick…” 


The eternal dance between my counselor and me tends to go a lot like this. As I previously covered, the place where I usually go to look for work and financial aid decided to split in two parts, and the most pertinent part packed up and headed off to the northtowns. This means I can no longer take the 45-minute bicycle ride down my street to give her short updates to her face.


The two of us are currently, seemingly locked into an endless game of phone tag because my exercise habits frequently have her calling whenever I’m out of the house. Of course, I’m going to have to rectify this situation, and that’s probably going to mean going outside at earlier hours – which, despite my being a very early riser, is still going to be very disagreeable to my body – or later hours, an idea disagreeable to both work hours and daylight hours. Not to mention rush hour, which matters because the ignorancevilles of Buffalo don’t have sidewalks, even though they have plenty of angry, car-wielding speedsters.


This has become important because she’s helping me register at UB, and my inability to get in and out of her new office location at will is going to make things a lot tougher. Not that it isn’t already difficult to make appointments; she’s busy, and it isn’t uncommon for me to only hear from her two or three days after leaving a voice message, but this brings the stakes higher because she’s not the in-face presence she was when I met her. I can’t bike down, say hi, and give her a brief update as to what’s going on anymore. Everything has to be done by phone, and by predetermined appointment. Since the office move, its been over a month since I was able to last give her a real update. 


The last time we spoke was through voicemail. I explained that I was having trouble getting through to the admissions department, and she responded with a message about the move itself and also being sick. The more we go on, the more it looks like I’m going to have to just swallow my bodily pain and get used to the idea of early-morning, pre-breakfast runs or bike rides. If I’m getting to UB, her help is essential, and I’ll only be able to get her help on her time, not mine.


About Nicholas Croston

I like to think. A lot. I like to question, challenge, and totally shock and unnerve people. I am a contrarian - whatever you stand for, I'm against.

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