A short video highlighting the 2012 SFU open house. Feat. Drew-P
Created: Julian Giordano
Contact: [email protected]
Score: In my heart – Moby
A short video highlighting the 2012 SFU open house. Feat. Drew-P
Created: Julian Giordano
Contact: [email protected]
Score: In my heart – Moby
The Peak’s News team went on location to an air strip in North Coquitlam, where we explore Team Guardian’s exciting Un-maned Air Vehicle.
Created: Julian Giordano
Contact: [email protected]
score: Click Click Boom – Saliva
ST. JOHN’S (CUP) — Glancing over her shoulder, Vanessa Stanley smiles back at the young waiter who just took her lunch order. As soon as the server’s out of earshot, Stanley leans across the table and quietly divulges an observation: “He’s new. He seems sweet . . . but he’s definitely new.”
Stanley’s spidey sense is impressive, but not surprising, considering her years of experience in the bar and restaurant industry.
“I’ve been bartending since Aug. 5, 2008,” Stanley says with pride. “I know the exact date I started.”
Stanley remembers how she first got into the business: she was tired of her minimum-wage job as a grocery store cashier and was looking for something new. After dropping off her resume at a Mount Pearl pool hall, she was offered a position as a bartender.
“I got promoted after only two months,” beams Stanley. “I got bumped up to supervisor and then eventually got promoted to assistant manager.”
Stanley says that it wasn’t until later, when she began working at another bar, that she realized just how poorly the pool hall had been managed.
“Our boss just wasn’t involved at all. It was mostly me and another girl — she was 24 and I was 21 at the time — and we ran the place.”
Aside from manning the bar, she says she had to manage liquor orders, stock the refrigerators, and even step in as an occasional bouncer when things got out of hand. The environment was not an ideal one in terms of safety, either. “I had a few guys steal my liquor from behind the bar one night,” Stanley recalls. “They reached over the bar, grabbed three bottles of liquor, and barred themselves in the men’s washroom. We finally had to call the police.”
Stanley was often the only employee working during the night shift and had a hard time managing everything on her own.
“I had a guy overdose on the couch . . . right in front of me. I had to call an ambulance because we couldn’t get him up,” she says. “It was more drama than I’ve ever dealt with in my life.”
Drug use was an issue in the hall, but it wasn’t something Stanley concerned herself with at the time. “It was bad for drugs and that kind of stuff. But again, there was nothing that you could really do about it. It wasn’t until I’d go to clean the bathrooms at the end of the night that I’d find white powder on the counters.”
Danielle Collins, an education student at Memorial University, has worked in the restaurant business for almost four years. “Personally, I think a serving job is the ultimate job to have while in university.”
According to Collins, if you’re lucky enough to land the right job, part-time servers can often earn full-time wages thanks to the tips. That being said, Collins warns that the work itself is not easy. “It can be stressful and exhausting and you definitely work for your money,” she says.
“I also think you have to be a certain kind of person to work in a restaurant,” Collins says, citing a dedicated, hard-working personality as essential in making it as a server. She also warns that the business toughens you up quickly. “When I started serving, upset customers used to bother me, but over time you get a thicker skin.”
Collins says that working in a restaurant is more demanding than any other job she’s had, which includes working as a day-camp counselor, a cashier and a swimming coach.
“It can be stressful and physically draining at times,” she says, “but I’ve definitely acquired better people skills.” Working in the restaurant business keeps her on her toes and has also shown her the importance of teamwork.
Working in the restaurant industry has helped Collins gain a newfound appreciation for gratuities. “I definitely think it should be mandatory,” she says. “People in the service industry work hard. When people go out for a meal, they’re going out for more than just the food. They also pay to be tended on and entertained — and us servers work hard to ensure that.”
Collins says that, while she’s always been a generous tipper, she’s gained a greater respect for those who work in the service industry.
“I often tip a lot more than what’s expected,” she said. “The funny thing is, I think all servers would probably tell you the same thing. It’s usually easy to determine who the servers are because they tip so generously.”
Collins says that there’s an unspoken mutual respect for one another: “We all know how hard we each have to work.”
When asked how she feels about waitressing, Stanley has no qualms about articulating her distaste for the job. “I’ll never be a waitress. Never, ever, ever,” she asserts. “Waitresses have to be nice, and I’m not. I mean, you have to stand there and listen to people bitch about the stupidest things and put a smile on your face.” Stanley says that she just doesn’t have the personality to be an accommodating hostess. “I’m the kind of person that if you get in my face, I’m going to tell you to go fuck yourself — that’s just the way I am. And that’s perfect for behind the bar. That’s exactly what they want.
“I’ve found that for the most part, a good food waitress is not a good bartender. You definitely get some people who are able to go back and forth, but most waitresses have a more timid personality,” said Stanley.
While Stanley and Collins’s experiences in the restaurant business differ, both agree on the importance of splitting tips.
“I definitely think tips should be shared with the people you work with,” says Collins. “There are people who may work in other parts of the restaurant that don’t necessarily make tips. We all work together as a group, and they deserve it just as much as I do.”
Stanley now works at a popular bar and restaurant in downtown St. John’s, and says that her coworkers are fair when it comes to sharing the wealth. “Whatever tips we make in the run of a night, we kick back a percentage to someone else. For instance, a food service waitress will give 10 per cent of their tips to the bar — and I think that’s absolutely fair.”
Working in a bar is a team effort, says Stanley, explaining that it’s not uncommon for workers to switch up their roles when business gets busy. “If one of the girls is really busy on the floor and there’s no food runner, I’ll go get the food and bring it to the table for her,” said Stanley. “And if she notices that I’m busy behind the bar, then she’ll come help me out.” Stanley goes on to say that if you’re doing more work, you’ll generally get “kicked back” more money.
At the heart of it, both women are in the restaurant business because they love it — and because they can make a killing. Stanley doesn’t hold back when it comes to talking strategy, either.
“Bartending is a game, plain and simple. A lot of times, you’re playing a character,” she admits. “Me and another girl used to pretend that we were sisters. And to be honest, we made a bloody fortune doing it.”
Stanley divulges that she’s often fibbed to get a good tip. “You pull at people’s heartstrings,” she said. “You can be whatever you want to be. And it’s fun. It’s entertaining. I pretend that I love you and that I’m interested in what you’re saying, but then at the end of the night, I take your money and go home.”
While Collins has spent the last four years balancing part-time waitressing with university classes, Stanley has been working full time behind the bar — neither schedule is easy. Stanley says that she’s often thought about returning to school, but isn’t sure if that’s the right path for her. “It treats me so well that I sometimes think about going into management,” she says of her work.
In the end, both women agree that for the time being, there’s nothing else they’d rather do.
“You just have to have the right personality for it all. I’d never be able to work nine-to-five and sit behind a desk all day. That’s just not for me.”
By Natalie Stanczyk
Photo by SFUPAMR
For Wayde Compton, heaven would be a kind of library, much like how Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges envisioned it. A poet, scholar, and the program director of SFU’s Writer’s Studio, Compton has recently been shortlisted for the National Magazine Awards for his short story, The Instrument, which follows a young filmmaker attempting to document his father’s life.
The Writer’s Studio is Compton’s most recent venture, having just come on board this past January. Part of SFU Continuing Studies, it is a one-year creative writing program with a spotlight on collaboration and community, with one of the highest ratios of teacher-student contact hours of similar programs in North America. “The mentorship model makes it different,” says Compton: working in isolation after a three-hour lecture isn’t quite as effective as collaborating in smaller groups. “Learning to write creatively is a social process.”
The program has a growing reputation. Last fall, two graduates from the program were offered contracts with major publishing houses HarperCollins and The Penguin Group. “Alumni tend to be very active in forming and continuing this writing community, often long after their time in the program,” says Compton.
Finding inspiration and overcoming writer’s block are mysterious processes for non-writers, but Compton’s remedy is a simple one. He admits, “I do require a certain state of mind to write. Being near people in a quiet space is best for me.” His first encounter with writing was guitarist Jimi Hendrix. “I was a big fan as a kid, and was fascinated by his psychedelic song lyrics. I thought of them as poetry.”
Compton has also been invaluable to raising awareness on issues around Vancouver’s black community. He co-founded the Hogan’s Alley Memorial Project, an organization aimed at protecting the public memory of the city’s original black community. He’s also behind Commodore Books, the first black-oriented press in western Canada, an important move in overcoming obstacles to publishing black literature.
“The protagonists in my stories are often black or mixed-race. Some, however, are white, and other times their race is not mentioned. But I’ve noticed that if my protagonist’s race is revealed to be black late in a story, editors will ask me to change that and mention their race early on, presumably because this piece of information changes how they have been reading the story,” says Compton, though if the protagonist’s race is white or unmentioned, he gets no grief from editors. “I believe this is because there is a bias to read a character as white unless it is otherwise indicated. I don’t think that bias should be accommodated or encouraged by the author.”
Compton has a point. The ultra-popular book trilogy The Hunger Games cast young black actress Amandla Stenberg as Rue, a character who is described in the books as having dark brown skin and hair, but bigoted fans still objected to the choice of actor, subjecting the movie cast to racist comments on Twitter in the weeks following the film’s release.
These are the kinds of issues Compton addresses in preserving and promoting awareness of the social and literary sides of the history to Vancouver’s black community, and his efforts are various. Being an active member of a community is key, and Compton finds a way to express the things he cares about in his writing.
To tie up our chat, I asked what was on Compton’s bucket list. “If the world was going to end this year, the only writing task that would matter would be the creation of more stories to tell my daughter.”
I have been following as best I can the debate around the creation of the men’s centre here at SFU, and most of the discussion so far misses the point. The creation of the men’s centre is not about equality in the sense that “women have a space on campus, so men should too.” It’s not about creating a space on campus for men to reaffirm hegemonic masculinity; instead, the creation of a men’s centre comes as a response to a growing need that is by no means confined to university life. That issue is the need for men to collectively reevaluate the meaning of masculinity and what it means to be a man in today’s world.
As a man in my mid 20s, I have had to address this issue in many facets of my life, including relationships, sports, family, friendships, the classroom, and popular culture. Even today, there are still some “acceptable” masculine roles that we are taught to follow. Whether it is the bumbling but loveable idiot, the stoic, the career-driven provider, or the chauvinist conqueror, men are pigeonholed into a narrow set of gender identities. Both myself and many other men feel that these identities fail to accurately reflect our experiences in the world and who we are. But to reject such ideas is to be ostracized.
This why a men’s centre is needed on campus. We need a space where we can be safe in our vulnerability and supported by other men, as we stop performing, confront the identities ascribed to us, and answer for ourselves what it means to be a man.
Men face a significant stigma around seeking help. We are often told to “buck up,” “to keep pushing through,” or simply to “toughen up.” Men admitting vulnerability, asking for help, or identifying that something is amiss in their life are seen as weak and, somehow, not “real men.” This results in many men not seeking the support that they need in their lives, whether it’s for dealing with the end of a relationship, an addiction, a major transition, or an experience of abuse. I spent much of my early 20s suffering from depression and anxiety, and I was too afraid to admit it. The few times I had the courage to admit that something was wrong, I didn’t know who to talk to or where I could go to deal with it. It never seemed an acceptable topic of conversation.
University is a formative time in most people’s lives. I’ve found that the education I’ve received has been as much about myself as it has been about what I’m studying. The campus experience is about more than the classroom; it is a time when we cultivate identity. A men’s centre will assist in creating healthy, productive, and engaged lives for male students at SFU, both while attending university and long after.
“Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized”
This quote by the Toronto Police Service’s Const. Michael Sanguinetti sparked public outrage in February of last year. In response, SlutWalk Toronto emerged, and with the rising attention that this movement received, similar chapters emerged across Canada. The widely covered SlutWalk Vancouver was considered a great success by organizers, bringing nearly 2000 participants to the streets, and drawing support from local organizations such as Pivot Legal Society.
The main concept addressed by SlutWalk is that of sex-shaming and victim-blaming in not only rape, but across all forms of sexual assault. The argument is that people (mainly, but not exclusively, women) should be able to dress or act however they want, without violent victimization occurring under the pretense that they were at fault. SlutWalk fights the common misconception that victims somehow ask to be assaulted through their appearance (i.e. “dressing like a slut”) or their behavior (e.g. consuming alcohol or drugs).
The controversy caused by Sanguinetti’s quote was all but overshadowed by the use of the word “slut” in the movement’s title: organizers meant it as a re-appropriation of a stigmatizing and offensive word, but many opposed its use. What was intended to be a rally and march to address issues surrounding sexual assault became a discussion of stigmatization. Just how strong can a single word be? Is it possible to redefine that word? And, most importantly, how should the sexual stigma that comes with that word be approached? A year has passed since the SlutWalk and, this time around, Vancouver’s organizers decided to take a different approach with SlutTALK. The event consisted of two parts: a film screening and an “unconference.” The former took place on May 15th and was an evening of various clips regarding sex-shaming and victimization, with audience discussion about each clip. The “unconference” deviates from the conventional conference format of participant facilitation and focus; the audience decides the direction of the discussion.
One of the topics of discussion is a name change, with the potential of dropping the word “slut” from the title. Natasha Sanders-Kay, one of the original organizers of SlutWalk Vancouver, acknowledges that there has been a lot of controversy about the title and that many believe that the word “slut” carries a lot of sexual stigma. Sanders-Kay also notes that changing the name could neutralize the message and make it less powerful.
Hilla Kerner, a member of the collective of Vancouver Rape Relief and Women’s Shelter, praises the movement for bringing attention to the issue of victim-blaming, but believes that there was not enough gender specification; she sees this as an issue of male violence against women and doesn’t think that this is given due address by SlutWalk and SlutTALK. “Sexual assault is not something solely done by men to women”, reads SlutWalk’s mission statement. “Women are most often targets and men are most often perpetrators, but all genders are affected.”
As for the use of “slut” in the title, Kerner sees it as a reinforcement of women’s inequality rather than an empowerment. She stresses that the word was never used by women, or in order to empower women; rather, men have always used it as a form of oppression. “There is no reclaiming that word”, she says of SlutWalk’s reasoning. “It was never ours”. SlutTALK’s facilation of conversation on this, however, is useful and a good political move, according to Kerner.
Another purpose of SlutTALK is to reflect on the successes and faults of last year’s SlutWalk. The bulk of the movement is made up of current or recent students, and Sanders-Kay believes there should be outreach to more marginalized groups — such as sex workers — and not only those that have had the opportunity for education. She believes that some of these groups would benefit the most from this movement, but not all of them have been able to get involved. Furthermore, the size of last year’s march made conversation difficult to facilitate.
The expression “There is no such thing as bad publicity” seems to ring true in the case of SlutWalk. The decision on the use of the word “slut” is a question of varying approaches to feminism, but the controversy has brought to attention not only the movement, but also its cause.
Okay, then, moving on, who can tell me the significance of the Canadian Radio League in establishing the CBC? Anyone? No? Did anyone do the readings last night? Look, I know it’s getting close to midterms, but you guys can’t fall behind on the readings.
Who brought their textbook? Okay, good, looks like most of you. Kyle, do you not have yours? Or are you trying to find it still? What’s taking so long? Can you not get it out of your bag?
Wait a minute; is your hand even in your bag? What are playing with under the . . . is that your . . . Jesus! Put that thing away!
Okay, everyone listen up! This stops right now! I am sick and tired of my students playing with themselves when I’m trying to teach. I know you must all find it difficult trying to focus on learning when you’re being taught by me, the hottest teaching assistant in the entire communications faculty, but this ends here.
I don’t want to see anyone beating off again this semester. This tutorial only runs for an hour. Can’t you at least wait until you’re at home to jack off? Or at least excuse yourself to go to the washroom? This is disgusting! Just imagine what the custodian goes through when he’s cleaning the floors! This is a classroom, not a fucking porno theatre!
Sorry about the language, but I’m at the end of my rope here, guys. How am I supposed to teach you about critical perspectives and political economy, when you can barely hear me over the slapping noises coming from under the table.
Alright, quick question: who is choking the chicken right now? Raise your hand. Your unoccupied hand. Tyler? No surprise there. Alex? I thought you were better than that. Jessica?! You too?! Look, I’m not trying to be oppressive or narrow-minded, but you need to explore your sexuality outside of class.
Okay, guys, listen up; I know it can be hard to focus when you are so physically attracted to someone. I can understand we all have needs and that my incredibly hot body is a distraction. I have a perfect figure, face of an angel, my skin is perfectly sun-kissed, soft and luscious… Now cut that out!
Alright, this is getting ridiculous. We are halfway through the semester, and we haven’t even gotten to the Frankfurt School of though yet. I don’t want have to be talking over a chorus of moans and wet squelching noises when I’m trying to cover Habermas and his theories about mass-produced entertainment. It’s obscene! What? Yes, Alex, this will be reflected in your participation mark. No, not in a good way!
So I hope I’ve made myself clear. The next person caught pounding their pud will be severely reprimanded. I’m talking some serious punishment. Yeah, you’ve been a bad, bad boy and you need to be disciplined — okay, sorry, that one was my fault.
There are a lot of stories about the way that radical politics creep up on an unsuspecting population. The way that, after a series of small concessions, ideas that once would have been considered insane seem reasonable. High school teachers warn us about the possibility of this happening to us. Books and movies use thinly veiled Holocaust metaphors in everything from coming-of-age stories to post-apocalyptic action thrillers. Yet none of these sources explore the flip side of the equation: what happens when we don’t even grace an issue with our attention, never mind forming an opinion on it?
On a large scale, political alignment seems to be as strong as ever. Everyone seems to have an opinion on matters such as abortion, same-sex marriage, social spending, the military budget, and provincial and federal political leaders. But very few people have equally strong opinions on local issues such as municipal spending and student politics.
Of course, there are excuses: that it doesn’t really matter who’s in charge, since everything will be the same anyways; that local leaders don’t really have the power to make huge changes. But this isn’t even true on the scale of student politics. Take a look at the Kwantlen Student Association in recent years. First, one board allegedly embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars of student money, and then the following board’s members, dropped the lawsuit against the perpetrators, with whom they had personal connections. In a slightly less dramatic example, look at last summer’s SFU lockout. Whether or not you agree with the SFSS board’s actions, those actions were taken because the board was empowered to do so by the students who elected its members.
So, yes, it matters who’s running the SFSS, an organization that spends millions of student dollars every year. It matters that hundreds of dollars are going to be added to future student fees for the student union, whether or not you’ll still be attending SFU.
Ultimately, the reason there is so little participation in local politics is because there are no hot-button issues that can be simplified along party lines. In order to debate the issue, you have to know something about it. It’s easy to look at military spending overseas and conclude that Canada should be taking a peacekeeping role, or that Canada should boost its military spending to create a more active presence in world events, because these ideas exist more as abstract concepts than concrete reality. Local politics is nothing but reality. If Gregor Robertson had run his last campaign simply based on “Hope” and “Change,” he would have been laughed out of office. Local politics are important because they do not run solely on emotional appeals or nationalist dreams. Apathy is inexcusable. In years past, the SFSS Annual General Meeting was held in Convocation Mall, and the place was packed. I dare you to do half as well.