My first job out of college was with my sorority. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you GDIs (and for that matter, most of my friends who were in my sorority who think I am crazy for still caring about Greek life), but you know what? I enjoyed working for an organization I believed in and it gave me some pretty marketable skills. Granted, I still have to explain why I chose that route and the aforementioned skills, even NOW, five years later, as I try and sell myself to lowest bidder. (Hire me! Hire me!)Anyway, the ol' Fraternity HQ heard I was unemployed (probably because I advertise it rather shamelessly) and came calling, looking for some help. A notoriously difficult chapter was being notoriously difficult again and HQ thought I could relate, being from an Ohio school at such. How bad could it be, I thought? I will talk them down, share a laugh and get things moving in the right direction.
Yikes.
Have you ever been in front of 90 sobbing 18-22 year old women (or girls, if you prefer)? It's scary. What's worse, being in front of them, trying to reach out, all the while knowing you might as well be playing Tiger Woods in a sudden death round. That was a little less than a month ago. I went back this week to try and help some more, get things rolling, assess the damage.
Yep, still damaged. It's funny; this experience is a bit frustrating. I relate to the chapter's needs (um, yes, if I were them I would want to be as social as every other chapter on campus without getting in trouble) but I can see where HQ is coming from (three kegs at a bar with people of all ages drinking freely, hmm...). But as I attempt to balance each side of the equation, what strikes me the most is the passion these women have for or against their house. Officers in the chapter were so frustrated with their experiences, they had anxiety attacks requiring medication. Xanax? At 20? Something isn't right here. I want to say, "Guys, you really don't have it so bad! The real world is a lot scarier."
But, that is their reality, as it once was mine. Their job is to go to school, get good grades, have a great time and be involved if they so choose. It puts the lay off thing in perspective. So, yes, I am unemployed and it sucks, but five years from now, I might look back on this like the sting of an HPV vaccination (women under 26, get them now!) in comparison to the non-anesthetized open heart surgery I may face.
Interestingly enough, I set out to make this blog a commentary on DDDD-RAMA and growing up, but I guess perspective is more interesting.
So, yes, on to write my report to HQ in which I will say "Let them eat cake!" Or in this case, keg.
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