“I don’t believe it!” she said as she emerged from the dressing cubicle. “This dress actually fits me!” She was turning around in front of the mirror, watching the hundreds of glass bugle beads catch the light, and showing the dress to the others. “I don’t think I’ve ever bought a full-length dress that I didn’t have to take up!”
Clarence was admiring Louise in the dress too. “It’s a sign!” he declared. “It’s also an original Oleg Cassini evening gown, whose previous owner must have been the same size as you. And as it is clearly meant for you, I’ll take $50 off the price for you!”
Since the dress was $490, and Louise had not been shopping for a ball gown anyway, this was the inducement she needed to consider actually buying the dress. What had begun as a fun ‘dress up’ had become a serious purchase. How much wine had they had?
“Mum – are you really going to buy that dress?” Camille was seeing a different side to her normally conservative – and frugal – mother.
“It’s a perfect fit,” agreed Rachel, “but where will you wear it?”
Louise took the bag containing the quite weighty dress and faced her companions. “I’m 50 years old,” she said. “I look gorgeous in this dress. I will never be this young again and I will never have the occasion to wear a dress like this unless I create the occasion.” She paused to look at Rachel and Camille. “Rachel,” she continued, “We are going to a ball.”
Rachel was startled. “When?”
“This spring, in the usual ball season,” answered Louise. “I don’t know which one yet, but we are going to one.”
“Oh,” said Rachel. She looked at Camille, then back at Louise. “Okay.”
*
When Louise awoke the next morning, her first thought was of the extremely expensive purchase she had made the day before. “How drunk was I?” she wondered. Then she took the dress out of the bag in which it lay, folded in tissue paper, and sighed. “Probably drunk on the very idea that a dress as glamourous as this one would even fit me.” Louise tried the dress on again.
It was quite a heavy garment and fitted so that the weight was evenly distributed. A piece of gauzy fabric ran from the top of the bodice to a bead studded choker, with the sides cut away to reveal the shoulders, so that the choker was at once a necklace and part of the dress. It made Louise look like a film star. She shook her head at her reflection in the mirror and wondered how a dress could do that.
“I’d better get online and see which ball we will be going to,” she thought to herself.
So, with her morning coffee beside her, Lou googled “Melbourne balls”.
Louise justified the whole ‘ball’ idea by reminding herself that she and Rachel did, in fact, try to do Something Big each year. Last year it had been the Melbourne Cup, which Louise had enjoyed – but she seemed to be the only one who had been before, and therefore the only one who knew that the horses were kept well away from the revellers. Even on the single occasion that they had been invited to the Bird Cage, not a single hoof was to be seen. In fact, while the Members Stand had a nice view of the track, even the private corporate tents were kept well back from the actual racetrack, and the general public was only able to monitor the progress of the race by the clever positioning of many huge screens erected for that purpose. The race organisers rightly felt that the horses would not benefit from exposure to the public, who were here to bet, drink, and party, and not to admire horseflesh anyway.
So, a ball would make a nice change, and people knew what to expect at least!
There were balls for all occasions, community endeavours and budgets. At last Louise found one that appealed to her. “The Fashion Aid Ball, Crown Casino Melbourne.”
Louise clicked on the website and was shown photos of past balls and attendees. “Definitely the B list,” Louise thought. “Sporting heroes and a few celebrities – but no sign of Paris Hilton.” Even Louise - who lived in the suburbs; was officially “mature”; and could read an entire TV week and not recognise a single ‘celebrity - understood that this ball was not going to draw any ‘A’ list socialites.
“Good,” she thought. “We will be stars!”
She rang the number and spoke to a charming young woman named Emma. “Emma,” confided Louise, “I have a problem.”
“Oh?” Emma was surprised and polite.
“You see, I’ve bought an amazing dress and now I need to wear it somewhere fabulous.”
Emma understood. “Well, our ball is certainly fabulous,” she said.
“I can see that from your website,” agreed Louise. “But I’ve also been to one or two of these functions, and while I am happy to pay $250 for a ticket, I don’t want to arrive and find that I am sitting at one of the worst tables.”
“All the tables are the same,” Emma informed her.
“No, they aren’t really.” Louise was having none of it. “There will be a row of tables at the back of the room, against the exit doors; there will be a table up next to the toilets and there will be a table beside the kitchen.”
“Oh!” was all Emma could say.
“I want to see which seat I am buying when I pay for my ticket,” said Louise in conclusion.
“Well,” said Emma carefully, “the only way you can be allocated a certain position in the ballroom is to buy a whole table.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No,” said Emma, and she sounded sorry for Louise.
Louise felt compassion for her young adviser. Fancy getting a customer like Louise!
But Emma’s professional poise was unfailing. “Actually, we have never had a request like this before!” Louise could hear her as she clicked her keyboard. “Look, how about I email you the floor plan. Then you can see where you would like a table, and once you send in the $2,500, I will put your name on that table. They are all numbered. Only three have been sold so far, so you can still get one right beside the catwalk.
$2,500? $2,500! For ten seats at a ball where they wouldn’t even get to see Warney and his latest squeeze – let alone Princess Mary?
But Louise was clearly having a mid-life crisis. She examined the floor plan which had already arrived and selected Table 66, front and centre of the extended catwalk. “Would you prefer Visa or Mastercard?” was all she could say to the delightful Emma.
Louise gulped as she sent an email to her friends and relatives. “Let’s go to a ball!” She attached the Fashion Aid link and told them all it would cost $250 each per ticket, but she pointed out that this included a 4 course meal; drinks all night; dancing to a live band and a fashion parade. All the fashion magazines would be represented – Vogue amongst them. It would be their very own “Devil Wears Prada” evening.
And just to sweeten the deal, Louise decided to organise a stretch limo to take them there.
A few years before, Louise had watched on as James and his friends organised a stretch limousine to take them to their Year 12 Formal, and had wanted to jump in with them so badly that it had surprised her. “One day,” she had promised herself. This was that day!
To her immense surprise, everyone she emailed wanted to come to the ball. Her sister Jane would come from Canberra. Also from Canberra, Joan and Cate agreed to come. Then, Jane’s partner David, hearing of the big event, felt left out, so he decided to join in, too. That left only enough room for Louise, Rachel, James and Kim, Julia and Katherine.
Julia and Louise had given each other ‘space’ after Jack left, but being neighbours in the small community of townhouses broke down the distance they tried to create. The Owner’s Corporation required that they meet regularly and it had been their habit to provide a united force against the other, older and bossier members of that group. So, in this way, they had managed to distance themselves from Jack’s indiscretion, and repair the friendship. Julia was the first person Louise invited after Rachel, and Julia was the first to accept.
“Fortune favours the brave,” Louise smiled to herself. And as the ball wasn’t for another six months,
she put it to the back of her mind.
Chapter 18 – New strategies
The classroom was on the second floor, just one floor below the staff rooms. Louise walked in with a smile nailed to her face and took a look at the group of people assembled there. They didn’t take too much notice of her as she set up her things at the desk in front of the white board.
There were about 22 students, ranging in age from 18 to 55. About half the class were white Australians; the other half were from various Asian and African countries. She knew better than to ask them to be quiet. She knew better than to ask them for anything. She knew that to these people, she was the barrier they had to batter down and clamber over in order to achieve their goal – a pass – the key to the locked door which kept people out. Out of work; out of money; out of permanent residency status.
When Louise first began teaching, she had imagined herself helping students understand the complexities of accountancy and commercial law; and the intricacies of the professional life she had taken up as an accountant, and a CPA, more than 20 years ago. Louise knew from experience that most accountants were not good demonstrators, and they therefore found teaching a challenge. But Louise was a good communicator and enjoyed teaching, or so she thought. Her first semester at this institution had made her re-think that attitude.
But now she knew what they wanted. These students didn’t want to have a nice day. They didn’t care about the teacher or what she thought of them. They would happily cheat from each other and copy and paste anything they could find on any website and hand it in as their own work. They would pretend to be using their phone as a calculator, and email their fellow student who would quickly send them an answer which they had just googled on their phone as they sat doing the test. Then, if caught, they would get together and organise a class sheet of signatures saying that they all declared the teacher incompetent and should not be penalised because she hadn’t taught them properly.
Louise was devastated by this “enemy attack” attitude from the class. During her first semester, when told that a class had written a formal complaint against her, she had offered her resignation. Her boss, the head of Business Programs, had looked at her in disbelief. “Why?” he had asked. “You can’t just walk away. It has nothing to do with you. I have to inform you, that’s all. It is a purely administrative issue.” He rubbed his forehead and tried to explain. “Look, if they fail, they lose their permanent residency status. You are teaching them the hardest subjects – Company Accounting, Company Law and Advanced Tax Law. Submitting a complaint against you is their insurance policy.”
Louise was aghast. “Insurance policy?” she said. “Aren’t they afraid that I will become set against them and fail them for revenge?”
The boss shook his head at her. “In that case, they simply ask for a re-mark of their exam and lodge a complaint with the International Student’s Liaison Officer, and get their passes that way.”
“I see,” said Louise. “And to whom do I complain?”
“What?”
“Well, they have their liaison officer – who do I have?”
“You have your pay cheque.” He stood and showed her the door, ending their brief interview. “Just carry on.”
And she had. Not easily; and not without a crushed and broken spirit, but she had made it back to teach another day. But first she had taken her problems to ‘the well’ – her own adult son.
James had listened and understood. “Mum, you have to use your power.” He was impatient with her and spoke to her as though she was a child who repeatedly made a senseless error. “You have the power in this situation and they don’t. Clearly this is about power.”
“It is supposed to be about learning.” Louise wanted him to see the situation from her perspective.
“No.” James was determined that she listen to him. “It is about power – that is why they went to your boss. Not a single student came to you.”
It was true, and that was what had hurt Louise more than anything. She had felt betrayed and humiliated that her own students went to her boss without even bothering to mention their issues to her.
James continued. “Their actions tell you that they respect power and they don’t respect you. Show them that the power is yours. If you don’t, you might as well go back to an accounting firm because you won’t last teaching at a tertiary institution.’
“It is so different though,” Louise wanted James to understand. “When I was at uni, we never even spoke to the lecturer. We listened, took notes, read books and tried to figure out the solutions to the problems. We studied past exam papers and the textbooks.”
James shook his head. “Mum,” he said gently, “firstly, you are teaching at the TAFE, not at a university; and secondly, no one cares.”
So, now she knew how to teach this class. She took her notes and started writing on the whiteboard. She wrote her name; her work email address; and her office address for internal mail. When she had finished the class was quieter. Without speaking to them she took a sheaf of papers from her briefcase and delivered one set to each student. It was the one and only time that she would walk to them. From now on they would have to come to her, when she was ready, and they would have to wait until she was ready.
“What’s this?” a student asked. Louise ignored him and continued to deliver the papers. When she had finished, she returned to her desk and took out the roll. She looked up and said to the class “My name is on the whiteboard, and on the unit outline I have just given you. Please keep the seats you now have for the rest of the semester so I can learn your names. If you don’t like your seat, change it now.”
No one moved.
“Good.” Louise called the roll and made the changes the students requested. Many of the Asian girls had adopted Anglo names so she wrote those beside their legal names. Once the roll had been completed, she addressed the class.
“Good morning. Please do not ask me any questions till you have read the unit outline because many of the answers you want are in it. Let’s go through it now.” They all studied their copy. “I keep a very accurate roll and if you arrive late or leave early I note the exact times you arrive and leave each lesson. For many of you, missing more than 10% of the total class time over the semester will impact not only your ability to pass this subject, but also your ability to apply for permanent residency, so my records will be called upon to verify your progress on these issues.”
Louise had their attention. “There are two tests in this subject and no assignments. I’m tired of reading the same paragraphs from cut-and-pasted documents so now we are 100% examination. You may not use a phone in either test if you do not have a calculator. If you do not own a calculator, you might want to reconsider your commitment to becoming an accountant.” Louise waited while a few of the students laughed quietly. “If you come to do a test and have forgotten your calculator, you will not be allowed to use your phone and you will fail. Being a grown-up means being prepared for foreseeable situations. Bringing a calculator to an accounting exam is such a situation and if anyone arrives at an exam I have set without a calculator, I will personally see to it that they receive a fail. To me, coming to an accounting exam without a calculator is that same thing as catching the bus naked. We don’t do it.”
“What about an emergency?” A woman student was aghast at Louise’s speech.
“An emergency?” Louise answered her. “Yes, in an emergency it is particularly important to be prepared. How would we feel if we were in the hospital, bleeding to death, and the doctor on duty didn’t have the right equipment just because he hadn’t known we were coming? No professional person would behave so irresponsibly, would they? Only a useless amateur would use a pathetic excuse like ‘they forgot’. But we are training to be professionals and we belong to an internationally respected profession. Accountants are prepared, accurate and reliable.”
The class was quiet. Louise went on. “I will take this opportunity to mention to you that I have over 20
years of professional accounting experience in various positions and I am happy to answer any questions you may have as you commence your final semester. The accounting profession offers a wide choice of interesting and rewarding roles and there is a job to suit every accountant. However, there will be some of you who will be unsuited to the lifestyle simply because you do not possess the personal qualities required of a competent accountant. While we are learning about company accounting, the accounting standards and company law this semester, I will seek to illuminate to you the various character traits required to properly discharge the duties of a company accountant.
“Accountants follow professional rules and customs and the documents they draw up become legal documents. Consequently, the accountant is in a role of great responsibility and trust.” She paused to look around the room. “As with most important roles in life, it is important to look the part if we want someone we have just met to entrust us with a well-paid, fiduciary role. This applies to all professionals. If you want to be put into a responsible role, you must look responsible. If you want to work as a pole dancer, you should dress like one. But someone who looks like an accountant will not get a job pole dancing and someone who looks like a pole dancer will not get a job as an accountant.” Louise could see from the expressions on her student’s faces that she had made her point. And they were still listening.
“Accountancy is a profession which adheres rigidly to internationally accepted rules, many of which have become laws. People who cannot follow rules should not consider becoming an accountant. We are precise, intelligent, educated, efficient professionals. We are respected for these qualities, so if you think it is stupid to be reliable or prepared, possibly a different job will suit you better. Most professions demand a set of standards from their practitioners and accounting is no different.
Morning in Melbourne Page 14