The only problem was I didn't have the 50 bucks. So my Div 6 cutie pie drove me to my mom's house to borrow the money. That went easily enough and I paid for the course. So onto the comm course the next day.
The comm course was the most bang for the buck. It did raise my ability to deal with customers and I started making more money. During the course, I was pulled out to be regged (of course I didn't understand this at the time, I thought they were just pleased with my success from the course and wanted to help me even more)
The first meeting was with this woman who looked for all the world like a diesel dyke (found out later I was right. She had done lower conditions at least once for homosexual activity). She had a vicious looking Doberman in the room who growled at me the whole time. I was so freaked that the interview was impossible. I couldn't wait to get out of the room. The next time was with this guy who started out insisting scn was the only thing that worked. We got into an argument about that and I left the room unregged again.
I should inject some deep background here. I come from a highly educated, professional/scholar class family. Generations of doctors and lawyers and educators and such. My father was an anesthesiologist and my mother had a master's in marriage and family counselling, which was essentially a clinical psychology field. Both my parents were heavily involved in Transactional Analysis, which was a very popular talk therapy modality in the sixties and seventies. This all came about because I had been so unhappy in Sac after moving there from an east coast beach town that I had taken all the petty cash in the house, thrown some clothes into one of the family cars and headed into the rising moon. The end result from this was that my folks went shopping for shrinks. The one we found was supposed to be good with teenagers. He suggested hospitalization for me. So I voluntarily go to a private facility (which was the top 2 floors of a regular hospital rather than some shady acres retreat). Fortunately we had money and insurance so I didn't have to go to state mental health under Reagan who was busy dismantling California's mental health system. Details of this period aren't important here, but a few cogent points: because of my medical family, I had learned quite a lot about various drugs. I'm no psychopharmacologist, but for a layman I know quite a bit. I was very anti-drug at the time and told the shrink I wouldn't take them. He was ok with that and we just did individual and group talk therapy. Many if not most of my fellow nutcases were on benzos or barbiturates or hypnotics or soporifics or something. These people were often walking zombies. Second, this facility had a shock treatment room. I saw people both before and after courses of treatment. Frankly it was pretty scary. The upshot of all this is that the anti psych stuff, cchr and the like were right in my wheelhouse and helped pin me to the cult for years. I personally took no psych drugs nor had shock treatment.
So, finally, my cutie-pie public reg became a body reg and she was successful. Since I had been making more money, I had some and bought Student Hat, HSDC and a Mark V. All tolled was about $1000! Hard to believe how inexpensive it was back in '75. My plan was to do the training route and co-audit. Student Hat went great and I was making even more money and was digging it all. We were young and vigorous and becoming more dedicated. This was COSMOD, remember. Outside the Sea Org, we were the elite of scn. We were the shit and we knew it and so did everyone else in scn. We were and still are the only mission known widely by its acronym. I finished SH and onto HSDC. Still winning big.
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