Paying for College - The Novel

by Kenneth Szulczyk

  Chapter 7

  Brothers, what a beautiful walk home with the morning sun rising above the horizon filling the sky with soft reds, oranges, and yellow. I even slipped that spoon into the coffee shop’s mailbox as the barista carried out the wicker chairs and placed them around the patio tables. We exchanged Good mornings when we saw each other.

  I strolled into the dorm’ foyer and saw one of the nocturnal dorm rats standing next to the row of student mailboxes. He wore a faded blue t-shirt, jeans covered with small tears and holes, and flip-flops.

  Approaching the mailboxes, I said, “Hey,” and nodded my headed

  He glanced in my direction, nodded his head, and rebutted my greeting with, “Hey.”

  I glanced at my mailbox and saw a letter from the Bursar’s Office in large bold letters. I scanned the other mailboxes and noticed half the students received the identical envelopes that rested at an angle in their mailboxes.

  Brothers, it seemed I had paid my tuition bill a week ago, but another bill was waiting for me in my mailbox like I had to walk by a street corner with a cheap hooker standing there and blocking my way.

  I ripped the bill out of my box and tore it open.

  “You got one too?” the dorm rat asked.

  I turned and saw he held an identical envelope from the bursar’s office. “Yup. The bursar told me the university overcharged me and would return some of my money.”

  He laughed, “Yeah, right. You sure you got the right letter?”

  I unfolded the letter and looked at the account balance at the bottom – one thousand dollars due next week. “Yup. I got the right letter. The university threw in a trip to the Bahamas during Christmas break.”

  “You must be a superb student.”

  “Of course.”

  “By the way, Daisy will throw another party tonight. It’ll be killer.”

  “I’ll stop by. I think I could use the drink,” I said.

  “Later. Gotta go and catch some zzzzz’s.”

  I studied the letter again and wondered where my money had gone. I thought I had enough to cover it. Then a thought punched me in the head. A cup of fancy coffee here, a gourmet croissant sandwich there, and, brothers, I don’t have any more money.

  I went to my empty room, and Drew must have gone to his early morning class. I saw an identical envelope from the Bursar’s Office lying on Drew’s desk. So curiosity mutilated the cat, and I picked up his letter and read it.

  Scholarship. Refund of seven hundred and ten dollars and thirty-five cents. I babbled, “The guy cannot even pass his exams.”

  I returned his letter to his desk, exactly the same way I found it.

  I grabbed my backpacked, pulled several heavy textbooks out and stuck new ones in, and headed to the financial aid office. My favorite office, right after the driver’s license bureau.

  I waited and waited and waited for an eon. I probably wouldn’t see anyone until the glaciers covered North America again during the next ice age. I always love when the secretary always says, “It’ll be a minute.” Yeah, sure. A minute stretched into thirty, but I prepared for this expected contingency and opened my finance textbook and began reading.

  After an eternity, the secretary said, “Mr. Krause will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” I slammed my textbook, stuck it under my arm, and walked to his office.

  Mr. Krause sat in his chair hiding his face behind a newspaper while his feet rested on his desk.

  I sat down in the armchair. I plopped my textbook onto the floor.

  Mr. Krause turned the page on his newspaper.

  “Uh ugh.” I groaned in an exaggerated voice.

  He turned the page of the newspaper again.

  “I couldn’t have missed them, Mr. Krause. Nice shoes.”

  Mr. Krause whistled and followed it by, “Unbelievable.”

  “I think I saw the same pair of shoes on sale at the secondhand store.”

  “Just a moment.”

  “Okay. Just take your time. I have all day.”

  I glanced around his office. Oh brothers, my laugh came out as a sarcastic grunt, when I saw the certificate of the best financial aid officer. Next to the certificate was another certificate for completing training in customer service. Then I saw the trophies for boxing lined up like soldiers on a small bookshelf behind his desk.

  He closed the newspaper and slid his feet off the desk. Then he picked up a finger nail file and started picking the dirt from under his fingertips. The curmudgeon did not even look at me one time.

  “What can I do for you?” as he continued picking at his fingernails.

  I placed the letter from the bursar’s office on his desk. He didn’t even glance at it. “I received a letter from the bursar’s office today.”

  “It sounds like you owe the university some money. You ought to pay your bill then.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t have any money to pay the bill, sir.”

  “Then the university will automatically withdraw you from classes next week. You will lose the credit hours and grades that you worked so hard for this semester.”

  “But I’ve been studying very hard. Couldn’t the university give me another loan?”

  “Unfortunately, the university imposes a strict policy. The university only grants emergency loans at the beginning of the semester.”

  “I’ve already paid all my tuition and at least half my room and board.”

  “Sorry. No exceptions. You should call your parents and asked them to help you.”

  “But, but they can’t. My parents are low in funds. They’re, they’re stuck with a fortune in medical bills.” Nobber, such a. Come on Jax, catch your breath, “Besides, I thought I walked into the financial aid office. I thought your job was to help poor struggling students such as myself.”

  “Sir, we did help you. “We used the federal government’s formulas, and you received the maximum amount of financial aid that the university can offer.” Then he dropped the finger nail file and placed his hands on the desk and stared at me. His eyes reflected kindness and warmth but his words came out in waves of coldness. “How is your social life?”

  “Excuse me?” I slurred as corybantic thoughts gushed through my mind. Nodgecock, he is! “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you drink alcohol with your friends?”

  I grunted a laugh, “Sometimes. Why? Aren’t I allowed to indulge and partake in the social activities of college life?”

  “Perhaps you have been drinking too much and spent your financial aid at the wrong establishments.”

  “Yeah. The university gave me way, way-“ Gullgroper! “Too, too much money.’ Such an aholehole! “I probably drank a case a beer since I came here. That averages about 2 beers a week.”

  Then he pinched his index finger and thumb together and inhaled imaginary marijuana smoke from an imaginary joint. “What about a little reefer?”

  I could tell he was no stranger to reefer madness. I just wanted to stand up, grabbed that stupid award, and hit the anathema’s head with it. I stared at him and at this coprolite sculpted into a man. I hoped the heat from my eyes would burn him.

  “So do you use drugs?”

  “No. Of course not. I don’t use drugs. I never looked at drugs. Even if I did, I have no money to buy drugs anyway. I barely received enough money from the financial aid office to survive on.”

  “According to our formulas, you have plenty of financial aid to pay for your school. I can only assume your funding went somewhere. Where did it go?”

  “Oh, you got me. Damn, those monthly payments on the BMW costs me a fortune.” Mother cockchafer, oh you! “I splurged my financial aid and drive around campus in -”

  “We are done here.”

  I remain defiant. I know he wants me to go, but my sarcastic mouth refused to stay shut. It has a mind of its own and always wants the last word. I relaxed deeper into my chair and stared at him. “I thought the financial aid offic
e was supposed to help students.”

  “You have been helped. We cannot help you anymore, and I also do not appreciate your sarcasm.”

  “I don’t want to sound rude, but how’d you get that award for best financial aid officer?”

  Mr. Krause continued staring at me.

  “Okay. Fair enough. You’re such a mindless myrmidon of the government.’ I bent down to pick up my book. As I stood up and approached the door, my defiant voice continued. I turned and glared at Mr. Krause, “I guess I’ll go rob a bank. That way, the university will get its money.”

  “Good luck,” he said as he reached for his newspaper again and rested his feet on the desk.

  Brothers, I, finally, understood the financial aid office. The world overflows with contradictions and conundrums – the financial aid office helps financially poor students afford college. The state employment agency helps the unemployed find good paying jobs. The politicians represent the people. Yeah right. I realized the real function of the financial aid officer – try to squeeze as much money as possible from every student. The universities are as greedy as those Wall Street Bankers. They know, students will find a way to pay. Most students always do. Otherwise, the university would have to change their ways. They would have to change their system.