I kind of want to start this like a dramatic movie character who is logging his day-to-day encounters. Maybe I’ll start it like that, lets try it.
Mission Log, September 18th, 2024….
Nope, don’t like it. I’m fairly new to this whole idea of “blogging” so bear with me. Nevertheless, I will try to encapsulate as much of my charm and wit as if I were standing right next to you, which, if you managed to get a whiff of my cologne, I would say is a fairly pleasant experience. But enough about my dashing stature, I think I’ll start this blog with some experiences that I’ve gone through fairly recent in my life.
For a bit of background info, before I joined Seneca College I was a student at York University for 4 years, which if you ask my parents, was a good experience to have as I came out with a university degree. If you ask me however, as someone who has seen multiple fights on campus, seen legitimate shit thrown at people in the public library, gone through 2 years of virtual learning due to a global pandemic, and professors who put the ‘G’ in ‘Geriatric’, I would say that the overall experience was below expectations. Point of the matter being that I’ve been through all the lows and lows of York University for quite some time.
When I arrived at Seneca at York for the Radio program, I was thrilled because I figured that I wouldn’t be at the behest of that shithole establishment as the Seneca campus is slightly off the beat-and-path of the official York Campus. And that is where my story begins.
My first year at Seneca couldn’t have been any better! I was having such an amazing time with all the professors and friends I met there that made my year incredibly enjoyable. Near the beginning of the summer season, York had announced that the teachers were going on strike, which was an added bonus. I thought to myself; I’ll be able to park on campus now instead of having to drive to Pioneer Village and take the TTC home, which were my famous last words before a catastrophe.
Before one of my classes, I decided to voyage to the York Campus and park in one of the parking garages, as I figured that I could easily find parking now that the students were out of school. That glowing flicker of optimism was flushed down the shitter when I found that the protesters were blocking every possible entry onto the campus. Any and every detour I took that gave me the slightest bit of hope was shut down by another picket line. I even tried to bribe the protesters with cash to let me through, I asked one them, “Is there a donation I could make, you know, for the cause?”. Apparently there is an offer you can refuse when its made by a Vito. By the end of it all, I threw in the towel, accepted defeat, and decided to trek back to Pioneer village and take the subway back to York. All in all, I was 40 minutes late to class.
In short, once you caught by the virus that is York University, there is no escape.
Join me next week as we go over escalator etiquette and the week after where I review general human decency in customer service.
Cordially,
Vito Santaguida
Here’s a look at a some people who didn’t have the same patience as I did when it came to commuting to the campus: https://www.instagram.com/p/C5WI-XVLZd7/
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