Borderline Shine by Connie Greshner

Author:Connie Greshner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2020-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

14 JAX: THE FINAL CHAPTER

Like many decisions in my life, moving back to Alberta was impulsive and not well thought out. Focused on the fact I could register as a psychologist in Alberta, I did not consider the barriers of moving to a city where I had no professional network. In order to get registered, I would have to accumulate 1,600 hours of supervised clinical experience, write a board exam, and endure another oral panel exam. Most provisional psychologists connected with supervisors during their graduate programs. I was from Vancouver and knew no psychologists in Calgary. Even more challenging, I was required to submit a criminal record check to any place of employment where I could obtain my supervised experience. My possession of weapon and shoplifting charges continued to haunt me. Back when I applied for practicums at Riverview and the Maples Adolescent Treatment Centre, I had stuttered out embarrassing explanations that were accepted based on my SFU supervisors’ endorsements. In Calgary my references weren’t well known and their recommendations couldn’t overcome the barrier of having a criminal record. I had applied for a pardon the minute I was eligible, but the wheels of justice turned slowly. Stubbornly, I applied for my provisional psychologist licence and I received it but I was then stuck because I couldn’t get a placement.

My anxiety skyrocketed again. As I trudged to interviews, I dissociated and could not remember what I said as I fumbled through the questions. Afterward, I cried until the soothing effects of liquor softened the edges of failure.

I rallied once more, writing a letter to the local Member of Parliament, explaining the effect that waiting months for my pardon was having on my career. Miraculously, this strategy worked, and I was granted a pardon. I was free to proceed to professionalism.

But it was too late. I had sunk too low in shame and disappointment. I had been living on credit cards for six months, and I was so discouraged I vowed to never work in the goddamn mental health system, a system that I was angry at for not being the salvation I hoped for, personally and professionally. Instead, I went to a temp agency and worked short term, mostly manual labour jobs, which carried none of the grand expectations of success that were emotionally killing me. I had no idea what was going to happen, until the agency sent me to Centennial Foodservice for a meat- wrapping job. A light bulb went off. Aha, reminiscences of Fletcher’s! I had been happy once in a meat factory. Maybe this was where I was destined to be.

Centennial was a small company that provided food to restaurants and facilities, and that specialized in cutting and promoting their own beef. A large warehouse contained their offices, a cooler, a freezer, and a meat-cutting room. They employed salespeople, shippers, and five or six cutters and a wrapper. No assembly lines here. Large cuts of beef were purchased, unboxed, tenderized, and trimmed, then made into steaks and ground beef.

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