by Glenn Brigaldino

Created on: June 02, 2009   Last Updated: April 18, 2012

Stuck on Bronson

When Johannes moved to the capital, upward mobility was on his mind. As an Associate at the Donovan and Green freight forwarders warehouse, earning $9.65 an hour, prospects were bright compared to being on welfare in New Brunswick. The apartment on Bronson Road seemed just right for starters: affordable, not all too far from work and a bunch of cheap Asian take-outs around the corner. And if he grew tired of Asian food, there was a Pizza Pizza next door. When looking for his apartment he had had a choice between the Bronson Terraces, Bronsview Apartments and the Bronson Ridge. For what first impressions were worth, he settled for the Terraces.

It was his third month there now and coming back from work he was glad to finally see the black steel door leading to his basement abode. He opened it and stumbled down the half-flight of concrete stairs. Just behind the next steel door, this one dark blue, with Basement stenciled on it, was his apartment, number 22B. Kind of nice of management, not to0 put a zero in front of the number, even though having a basement apartment made you feel a bit like being one.

The one-bedroom room came equipped with a new fridge and stove, but both were cheaper models. All windows were situated at chest-height, with no view other than the residents' parking lot. Still it was a quiet place, enough daylight made it inside and most of all, the rent was rather fair.

As he closed the door behind himself, he flung his backpack into the hallway closet and slipped out of his hiking boots. It had been a tiring shift today, the bus home was crowed and now he realized, that the fridge was basically empty. As he washed up, he thought about going over the Han Wong's for dinner, but he couldn't help from thinking about money, or rather, how tight it was. Eleven bucks an hour wasn't at all bad, but after receiving his first utilities bills, he came to realize that once there and the rent were paid, half of his take-home pay was gone too. Although he had graduated with a diploma in chemistry back home in Eritrea, his degree was not accepted here in Canada. He had even spent nearly three and a half years in various East European countries, doing internships in laboratories.

After landing in Canada in 2001, it took him a while before he fully realized that even enhanced CVs like his, based on real skills and experiences, are more often than not simply collected by temp agencies and consulting firms. If a company can boast a database

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