Ever found yourself standing around in the street when suddenly you spot an intriguing advert on the side of a passing bus. It'll usually be an illustration a' la 'Watchtower' style of two hands putting back together a metaphorically broken world, like a jigsaw puzzle. Then a sanctimonious message like 'You can help to rebuild it'?.
If you have, then you would have encountered the scarily rapid increase of Scientologists that are now over here from America. They are, regardless of what they say and whatever soft minded Film star they trolley out to advocate it, a Cult. Any group of people who feel the need to keep deathly quiet about their weekend activities and are very misdirectional in small talk about it, has something to hide. Heres what happened when 'they' encountered me:-
A couple of years back I had just started in a Finance department and was offered the opportunity to commence CIMA accountancy training. Now coming solely from a customer services background and having the mathematical skills of a Dyspraxic Armadillo, I was understandably nervous. My new boss, who shall remain nameless, took on my concerns and nonchalantly dropped into the talk that he knew of some 'courses' that would help me in my studies and of course I nodded gratefully that I would go on them. Of course, I was thinking Speed Reading and memory increasing stuff so he arranged a little meeting to discuss where they were to be held.
He opened up the informal chat with three pieces of information about himself. 1) He was an Aston Villa supporter. 2) He was a Roman Catholic and 3) He was a Scientologist....
'WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP' went the siren in my head and I bet it showed on my face too because he immediately got a bit flustered and tried to laugh of the connotations of 'Cultness'. Started then to amble about this on course, the 'VM' course, and said I should ring this number and ask for the Learning module. Now, my dilemma was that this was my new gaffer and I had been invited to his very expensive wedding so I couldn't just stand up and tell him to shove it. So I called the number and left a message for 'Robbie'.
Ten minutes later the phone rang and a very excitable female was on the other end.
"Is this the gorgeous Mr Clyde?" - I was even more suspicious now
"Er, yeah"
"Hi! This is Robbie and when are you going to bring your gorgeous self down and learn some really exciting stuff?" - Seriously suspicious now
I arranged to go down one Saturday and found myself at a particularly inconspicuous looking building and entered a inane looking lobby which had a marble bust of one LRon Hubbard. The founder of Scientology.
I was then greeted by Robbie, who wore a smile falser than silicone titties across her mug, who then directed me to the 'Learning room'. I was secretly hoping there would be a 'Deviant Free Love' room but alas, not this Cult! She then handed me a Personality test and requested I fill it in before I leave - We'll talk a bit more about this later. At this point, I felt it wise to keep my guard up until proven wrong so I sat down and began surveying the room. I spied others, who were already entrenched up to their necks in this cult, who were diligently scribbling away. One dude was even made to talk to a teddy bear about his feelings! I couldn't make this shit up! The day then got weirder..
I was handed an A5 pamphlet and some paper, a bit of clay and a load of wooden bricks. I was then informed I was to be there until I had finished. So I open the pamphlet and the title 'The Misunderstood word' bounds out at me. I'll spare you the next 6 hours of 'work' I did and let you in on the earth shattering principle made in this 'Course'. Are you ready for this? Sure? Here we go:-
"If you ever come across a word you do not understand......Get a dictionary and look it up"
Well, fuck my old boot! I'd have never of thought of that!! I had spent 6 hours in a room to 'learn' that so you can now get an idea that by this time I was not a happy bunny at all. And boy were they going to find out how unhappy I was...
My 'tutor' then comes round and after smiling cheesily to tell me I had passed, he informed me he had to go get the 'meter'. Eh? The 'Meter'?. He arrives back with a box that had a dial on it and two cylindrical handles attached by wires. He then proceeds to explain that the 'E-meter' measures whether or not you have 'understood' the lesson. He sticks the cylinders in my hands and the little meter goes up. "Ooh, look! You just had a thought" he exclaimed. That was it. I had reached my 'nice' toleration.
<*dv_0*> After slamming said cylinders on the table, I let the rage spew forth..
"Nah mate! Now you are having a fucking laugh. I've spent six hours sitting here to be enlightened in the profound art of looking in a dictionary??. I have passed the test and you are now telling me that to believe that I have understood what I have learned, you are going to test my brain waves with a capacitance measuring device? I did Mechatronic Engineering mate! You could stick that in a frigging vegetable and get a reading. Sorry but now you are taking the piss!"
His face went a bit ashen. The 'vegetables' sitting in the general area looked horrified and almost astounded that somebody had called their bluff. He quickly scurried off, with E-meter under arm. I sat there with arms folded and a 'do not fuck with me' face. Robbie came back into the room and they had a little conference behind a closed door. I was getting even more pissed off now as they were clearly talking about me.
Then this other woman comes into the room and asks if she can speak to me. I follow her through a winding corridor and take a seat in a room absolutely bleeding filled to the brim with E-meters!! She voices her concern that I appear "somewhat agitated" and upon receipt of these profound observations, I open a can of expletives on her ass. "I've sat here for &$*&$ing hours. And this dead leg &%^$ tells me...etc etc" She wisely realises that I am in no mood to talk about my emotions to Teddy Ruxpin and so leads me back out to the hall so I can pay for what I have 'learned'.
Then Robbie bounds up to me and asks me for the fee (18.75) and if I had filled in the personality test because "Its really good fun". Oh, I did Robbie. I've done many a psychometric test before and I knew what the motive behind this particular test was, so I deliberately made myself appear like a grade A psycho. "Do I ever feel like hurting small defenceless animals?" "Yes". I hand Robbie the form and inform of what I have done.
"Oh. Why have you done that?" - Glad you asked
"This is my chain of thought Robbie, and please correct me if I am wrong! I fill out personality test, you mark the test. Ooh, look at that! I have 'X' personality but its ok because you have a course that can help me with it! Correct?..." I bark this idea at her with a wide eyed intensity.
I then watch with glee as her beaming false grin slides slowly off her chops. Did I win the holiday to Barbados and Bully's special prize?
"I'll just go and get your change" - 'Ave it!
On my way out of the centre, I reach the lobby and defiantly lob my pamphlet over my shoulder, at the 'feet' of LRon's bust. His sycophants scurry to pick it up and return it to me but their pleas fall onto deaf ears. I'm through the security doors and out into the merry, safe streets of Birmingham. Like 'Verbal Kint', I begin to walk normally after twenty yards - My foot had gone to sleep in there.
The incident was not mentioned by my boss ever again though even now I still get the occasional phonecall from them - "Hi Clyde! This is Steve from the Church of Scientology.." "Fuck off Steve" "..Erm..Ok. Sorry to bother you" - and their stupid pamphlets which my Mom refers to as the 'Crazy mail'.
I learnt a valuable lesson that day about my resilience to bullshit. I also learned that being suspicious is a good thing.
And I'm very confident now that through whispers in that building, my name will bring fear to the hearts of new 'Volunteer Ministers' (VM course remember?) out to save the souls of this world.
I am the Scientologist's Kaizer Soze.
Submitted by Clyde Martin-Leon
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