A few hours before my first Cantonese class was supposed to start, I received the following voice mail from the director who had first emailed me her half-answers to my questions about the class:
"Hello Tom, this is Julie from Wossing calling about Cantonese 1 which was supposed to start tonight. So far you're the only student enrolled, so we had to postpone the class. It will probably start next week. We'll be in touch."
Johnny, I'm afraid you're going to have to die.
And of course, he already has my $288, which I went down to Chinatown to hand over to him in person while he was lying, lying and lying some more to me about the class already having additional enrollees.
I want my $288, and I want it now. I'll be happy enough to give it back once I know I'm getting a class out of the deal, but I no longer trust these people.
I keep picturing Roz Russell walking in to Johnny and singing "I had a dream, a dream about you, Johnny! And all that I need is just $288 bucks, Johnny! Just $288 bucks, Johnny!"
(Sorry, I spent 5 hours belting out show tunes at Marie's Crisis last night, so I still have Gypsy on the brain....)