本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛I got kicked out of graduate school four months earlier than I expected, or could afford.

I defended my thesis on January 9th 2000, successfully. After all of us from the computer science department had the last drops of beer in a small bar close to Queen’s, I was done – on my own, without any financial support from the school. I did have a couple thousand dollars in my bank account. But I had no idea how long I would have to live on that. My wife was pregnant, our immigration process was dragging on – I would have to go to Detroit for an immigration interview and there would be another 3 months before I could finally get my landing paper - I did not know any of this then.

Without a resident status, I could not apply for a professional job; without a job, I can’t earn money; without money, I can’t live and support my family. And worse still, I could lose my legal status in Canada soon – my student visa would expire after my graduation.

What’s next? I decided, while waiting for my landing paper, that I had to go out and find something, anything to earn some money. I looked everywhere, and saw an ad from campus student center that a bicycle courier was looking for additional hands.

I went straight in to that location. Unexpectedly, it was a small and dirty bicycle repair shop. The guy in charge was a Mexican. He had a crew of 5 or 6 young people, street type, looked all weird, tattoo and stuff. He did not talk much, just asked me if I knew how to ride a bicycle and knew the city well. I said yes. I had been living in Kingston for about one year. I thought I knew the area well enough to delivery business letters. The price was 1.7 cent a letter. Shame on me, I got two master degrees but I could not do the math right. 1.7 CENTS! I should have known how many kilometers I had to ride in order to earn my lunch, even though it was a whopper junior.
Looking back, I had no regret at all for that experience – actually it was a period of time that I was most fit and forward looking – with so much uncertainties but without fear, as I had nothing to lose.

I became SO familiar with every single street and side ways at Kingston. I had been to all the businesses in certain areas. When I was in Beijing, I was so bad at remembering and recognizing street name and directions that my wife always laughed at me. Not any more. After this, I became a road atlas with a self tuned GPS in my brain.

I started the first day. I had an old bike of my own. My boss asked one of his teenage employees passed me a helmet and tuned up my bike. He told me that, as a professional courier, I can NOT ride on the side walks. I had to ride side by side with motor vehicles on the main roads. If you had ever been to Kingston downtown area, you would know that this is risky business. The road was narrow and busy. My boss told me that he used to work as a courier in Toronto. The drivers of Toronto were much worse. I should thank God to work for him at Kingston. He told me that he got hit twice in Toronto. One time the injury was severe enough to send him to hospital and stay in bed for a couple of months without income. After that accident, he came to Kingston and opened his own business. Apparently there was an article in the local newspaper – “The Kingston Whig-Standard” about him, with a picture. That article was hanging on the wall.

I was given about 50 business letters. I was told to deliver it to the PERSON being addressed, with a signature as proof (no tips). I can’t just deliver the letter in the mailbox. Those letters were time sensitive. Once I was done with the first 50, I should come back to the shop and ask for more.

Once I was on the road, it was not bad at all. Many of the addresses were close enough. I usually planned ahead the route, and rode to the most remote address first. People were nice at Kingston. I never had any issues with any customers. Find the address, deliver the letter, and get the signature. It can’t be any easier. For the first 50 letters, it took me less than two hours. Then I went back and get some more. At the end of the first day, I was rather tired, but I delivered more than 200 letters.

I did not know exactly how my boss would pay me at the end of the 2nd week. He did tell me and the other new comer the price per letter. But also he mentioned something else as bonus. Due to his accent, I could not make it right. But I did not ask. I knew Canadians were honest people. I never really worried about my pay cheque. I had such a good experience at Queen’s. Without asking, I got an extra $5000 bonus (in addition to my $16,000 scholarship) the 2nd day I arrived on campus to compensate the extra tuition fees for international students. People were just so helpful and nice everywhere. My wife had a dish-washing experience for 3 weeks. She earned $600 for that. I told myself that I had to have at least one such labour experience in my life.

The most challenging thing was the pager. Everyone had to carry one. If there was an urgent letter to be delivered right away, the boss would call us and whoever closest to the home base should return and deliver that letter. To me, it was just a bunch of noises. I could never figure out what he was saying from the thing. So I never responded or returned. I guess that was when the boss started thinking I was lazy.

I had nothing to complain. It was a fun job. Soon two weeks passed. It was a Friday again. The weather was nice, even though it was still a bit cold. After lunch, I could not resist the urge to borrow a novel from the library and found a bench on the lake shore. I turned off the stupid pager and listened to music while reading the book. It was just lovely.

I enjoyed myself for a couple of hours. It was the pay day after all. By the end of the afternoon, I came back to that small, dark and smelly place. I returned my pager and helmet to the boss, and waiting for my pay cheque. The boss was apparently not in a good mood. He said something about finding me reading at the lake shore. I told him that I did all my delivery for that day. It was my personal time. I was not paid by the hour, but by how many letters I delivered, right? He did not say anything, passed me an envelop with some cash in it. I counted - $70! The boss said, enjoy your weekend, welcome to back next week if you want to. If you work harder, you can earn more. Well, what can I say? I did not argue. I did not know what to say, really.

I walked out of the bicycle shop, thinking, I earned 70 bucks in exchange of two weeks of hard labour. Isn’t it funny? I earned $40 bucks for two hours of tutoring to an undergraduate student the night before. When I went back home and showed my wife the cash, my wife was a bit upset first. But soon enough, she laughed, saying let’s go to the VIP Chinese restaurant to celebrate and spend all this money. At the dinner table, she was looking at me, saying: Mike, maybe you are just not the type to work in a real trade. You are useless in a sense: very good at thinking, but pretty dumb doing whatever jobs that require hands and legs in the real world. It was really lucky that you live in today’s world. You would not find a mate, you would not have children, and you would probably starve to death if you were born a few hundred years earlier. I laughed too. I said to myself, you gonna do better the next time.

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