I don’t know how I did it, but I survived a 3-year-long career as a Resident Assistant. I got out alive with a degree and some seriously crazy memories. Last week, I told you all about my favorite residents and their half-naked antics, and as promised, this week is even crazier. This is my crazy RA life and yes, these are all true stories!
Before I can share this tidbit of my crazy RA life with you, I need to clear something up. Trust me on this one: no matter what you might think, no matter where you go to school, no RA likes writing people up. No RA wants to break up your party at 1:30 am on a Saturday. I promise; we all hate it. It’s not fun, at all. Not even a little.
I tried to avoid trouble as much as possible, yet always found myself in the most uncomfortable, frustrating, and ridiculous situations, whether or not I was on duty. I had the absolute worst luck when it came to documentations. The first bad incident that sticks out in my head happened on a Wednesday night. Seriously, a Wednesday. If it made sense, it wouldn’t be my crazy RA life, right? Of course not.
My co-RA and I had been studying together that night when midnight rolled around. She decided to come with me on my last round, and together we trudged through the complex. We were almost done in the last building, when we walked out of the hallway and into the stairwell. At that exact moment, a bunch of people came down from the floor above us. Among them was a guy holding two open beers, which is against policy. When we tried to confront him, he ran. He left his friends behind, and ran to the woods. We knew his name, so we decided not to call Public Safety and cut him a break. We left and I submitted an incident report a few minutes later.
Writing Up is Hard to Do
Fast forward about a half an hour. It was 1:30 in the morning and I was finishing up my bulletin board, when he walked right into my room and told me he had a bone to pick with me. He sat down on my couch and proceeded to yell at me, “Why did you write me up? I have witnesses who will vouch for me! Those beers were closed!!” I looked at him with raised eyebrows and had to collect myself for a second before I could respond.
“Listen,” I said, “both of us saw you with two open containers. I don’t have anything else to say.” My calmness seemed to frustrate him more, and he yelled louder. At this point, all of my suitemates woke up – I could see their lights turn on from under their doors. He started to beg me to help him out, and I told him there was nothing I could do. “Even if I could do something, I wouldn’t. I saw what I saw and I have to do my job,” I said. “Yeah right, whatever you say,” he responded.
In an attempt to squash the situation right then and there, I told him sincerely, “Listen. I promise, this is nothing personal. I’m really not trying to get you in trouble. You’ll meet with an RD and you can explain your side of the situation to them and see what happens. No hard feelings okay?” He said, “Sure,” and walked out laughing.
It was then that I heard him on the phone at the end of the hallway…
“Yeah, her name is Brittney Helmrich.” He then gave my room number. “Well, I just don’t get it. It’s not like I called her a B**** or anything. I didn’t do anything wrong!” he insisted. I waited until I heard the back door close, and went to my co-RA’s room. I told her what happened, and she said he went to her first to find out where I lived.
Before he left, he went back to her room, laughed, and told her triumphantly, “I just called Public Safety on her!”
The funny thing is, Public Safety never came by that night. In fact, Public Safety thought it was hilarious, and so did ResLife. He didn’t get me in trouble, but he did make me RA famous!