THE RA DIARIES: College through the eyes of a resident assistant

The Daily News

Editor's note: The RA Diaries is written by an anonymous guest columnist. The columnists' view do not necessarily reflect the views of The Daily News, nor do they necessarily reflect the views of other resident assistants.

- I'll admit it. I became an RA for the money. Let's face it — almost all of us do. Free room and board plus a $1,300 stipend sounds awesome, right? Not really. Don't get me wrong. It's a lot, but it's not nearly enough for the crap I deal with every day.

Dear Diary,

It was around 2 o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon when she came down to the front desk asking to be checked out of her room.

The first time I met her was during the first week of school at our floor meeting. Call me psychic, call me Taylor Swift, but I knew she was trouble when she walked in. Of course, I was right.

After only 12 weeks of school, she'd managed to collect seven alcohol documentations — seven.

Tuesday was a day of riddance. As she walked up the stairs with me to check out, I could only imagine what was going through her head. She was on the verge of being kicked out of the

university, so she decided to bow out before getting her official, “Although we'd really love your money, your behavior sucks and you can't go here anymore” letter.

She led me to her room and opened the door. I started looking around, checking for all the usual signs of a proper room checkout, and then I saw it — a fifth of Smirnoff.

I gave her a look. “Why is this in your room? You know this can't be here,” I said after spotting the alcohol in her wardrobe.

“Oh, well it's not mine; it's my roommate's,” she said.

Right. It's your roommate's? You seriously expect me to believe that your roommate keeps her vodka in your wardrobe?

“Okay, well regardless of who it belongs to, you're gonna have to dump it out,” I told her.

I walked her to the nearest sink and watched as she poured the alcohol down the drain. How symbolic. At that moment, she was pouring more than booze down the drain.

You'd think I'd be less surprised that one of my worst residents went out with a bang ... or clink. I guess seven documentations just weren't enough for her. Better to make it an even eight.

She was an idiot. I don't suppose I'll miss her.


A baffled RA


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