Tales From the RA Office

My room mate and I met nearly three years ago when we both began working for NCSU Housing as RA's. That was my junior year, and his super senior year. Yes, he liked his first senior year so much that he decided to do it again. It was probably my best year of undergrad. I lived and worked with some great people that year. At the same time, I also lived and worked with some real MENSA members. This post will be the first installment in a series of posts telling stories from back in the day.

Not 'that' far back in the day.

The first day I met my future room mate, he was wearing a blue T-shirt that said "The MCAT is my bitch!". I'm not kidding. The second day I knew him, he was trying to drink a gallon of milk and failing. Failing miserably. The third day I knew him, he was talking about the time he turned his apartment into a beach themed party with a couple hundred gallons of sand. I think that these first encounters pretty much set the tone for how my time with him goes: entertaining as hell.

One of the people we worked with can only be described in one way. If you've ever watched the television show "The Office" and are familiar with the character of Dwight, then you pretty much know this girl. Deep down, she had the best interests of the staff and the residents at heart. However, her eccentric personality, with her ridiculous solutions to problems and outrageous personal anecdotes really made her stand out.

And just as much fun to mess with.

For the first several weeks we just sort of assumed that she was a little out of her comfort zone, and that once she got to know the rest of the staff she wouldn't have the urge to tell such crazy stories or posit inane ideas. No such luck. As the year went on, we realized that was really who she was. It was probably after the third time she prescribed a concoction of garlic, pepper, honey and lavender to cure a case of the sniffles.

At least lavender doesn't have to surmount the blood-brain barrier.

But enough about the co-worker for right now. It's time to get to some of the really good dirt. And by dirt, I mean residents. And by good, I mean dumb. Never let it be said that we were not lenient RA's. In fact, if we had been completely diligent in the pursuit of our jobs, few if any residents would have escaped with stern reprimands from University Housing.

My floor was a co-ed floor, comprised mostly of people on the same scholarship that I was on. As such, they were largely pretty smart people, and able to hide their miscreant tendencies. My room mate, on the floor below me, was not so lucky. He also ran half of a co-ed floor, except instead of freshmen, he had seniors. Some were even almost as old as him. These were grown men living in the dorm, drinking forties in the hallway.

A regular Tuesday night on his hallway.

Before I begin ragging on his residents, let me say that without my room mate's positive influence, these guys would have turned out worse than they did.

I was on pretty good terms with most of the guys on both my floor and the first floor, or at least as good terms as an authority figure can be on while still attempting to maintain a professional level of involvement. As such, sometimes I would eat meals with them in the dining hall. This story is about the time when myself, another RA and two residents went to the dining hall. Three of us learned that the fourth one might not be too bright.

As we sit down and start eating whatever it was that was being served that night one dude, we'll call him Silly Resident, looks over at another table. Silly Resident says "What is that guy doing?" Intrigued, we look over and see a guy mixing some mustard with a little bit of honey. "He's making honey mustard" we say. Question answered.

Good thing we got that situation resolved quickly. Wait...

Silly Resident doesn't believe us. "That's not how honey mustard gets made" he says adamantly. Puzzled, the rest of us exchange glances before asking if he was serious. Oh, he was serious. "How did you think they made honey mustard dude?" we ask. "I mean, it has to do with the type of mustard seeds they use, or the consistency or something. Right?" Silly Resident says.

"No, no, no. That's not how it works dude. Honey mustard is called honey mustard because it's mustard and honey. It's in the fucking name. How do you not see this? Did you think this was like buffalo wings or some shit?"

Silly Resident's defense? "Well, I mean, I'm not like a mustard connoisseur or anything."

A true mustard connoisseur always uses Gray Poupon.

"Not a mustard connoisseur? Have you ever had mustard before? Yes? Have you ever had honey mustard before? Yes? They taste different, you idiot! This isn't some Mr. Wizard bullshit! It's honey mustard! Honey! Mustard! Damn!"

Pictured: Some Mr. Wizard bullshit.