How (Not) to Abuse Your Power

Politicians get sweet cars. Cops get out of speeding tickets. The guys at Dunkin' get free lattes all day. We all have perks. Even the humble desk clerk gets to steal a few staples now and again without it being a big deal.

Resident assistants get stuff too. Depending on where you work, you get free housing, free food, maybe a little off your tuition. I got a badass tee shirt. I always talk about the fine, grey line though. Abuse of power can mean a lot of things to a lot of people, and it's not easy determining what's "too far."

Locking yourself out of your room and just taking a master key upstairs instead of signing one out? Yeah, that's acceptable. Having nightly ragers with your underage residents? That's obviously not. But what about the little things? We aren't allowed to have candles anywhere on campus, but walk one foot in my apartment and you'll see shelves lined with red tealights. Pets are forbidden in all dorms, but I know someone with a fish tank. I have no intention of reporting it.

So how do we determine what's all right and what's not? I know the rules. I know I'm responsible. I know I'm in charge. I let myself have candles because I know I won't light them. I let myself have over the alcohol limit because I know I'm not drinking it all at once. So what gives me the right to decide I can do something and others can't? And what do you do when you encounter someone close to you violating a policy you wouldn't let anyone else get away with?

An example for you. Last Saturday, I was on call. My Very High Up Boss happens to live in the building I help oversee, and he decided to call me to complain about the noise in the room below his. Now, he has a wife and two small children living with him. He's also THE Boss. When he calls, you take it very seriously.

So I saunter up to the room in question and knock. Who answers? A fellow RA. Uh oh.

The police officers in the United States have something called the Blue Wall of Silence. It means that when a fellow officer breaks a law or does something questionable, you just let it go. While I won't pretend being a resident assistant is anything like being a police officer (I promise I don't take myself THAT seriously), we too have an unspoken code. Your coworker has a party. Someone sleeps with one of their residents. Someone violates the guest policy. These are all things that are expressly forbidden, but I don't know anyone who would report their fellow RA.

So here I am with a coworker answering the door to a room that is drastically pissing off a very important person. In literally any other situation on earth, I would have documented these kids. They were extremely loud. They were huge pains in my ass. On top of all that, my own coworker was no help to me at all.

I let it go.

This is, by definition, an abuse of power. And it is one I would extend to anyone on my staff. It is one I would expect to have extended to me. It is one I have had extended to me in moments of drunken idiocy.

Is this ok?

I don't know the answer to that, honestly. Your staff is your support system. Any tiny rift, any awkwardness, and the whole thing falls apart. In a situation where someone's happiness or safety was in danger, I'd report that. But violations by people close to me? I'm not sure where the line is crossed.

I'd love to hear your take on it. What would you have done? Has this ever happened to you before? How do you justify it?

Lies and Deceit and Old Fashioned Stupidity

"Is there life on other planets? I don't know. It's possible life on other planets is not intelligent. There's certainly a lot of life on Earth that is not intelligent."
- My Evolution Professor

It comes as no surprise to anyone that people, as a whole, are generally pretty stupid. There are some jobs that see this more often, and ours is woefully one of them. As resident assistants, we see the slow and painful death of rational thought on the daily. This is both pathetic and horrifying, but my best advice here is to learn to laugh at it. As aggravating as it feels to have a drunken resident call you a bitch at three in the morning, nothing is more hilarious than retelling the story the next night.

Case in point: my on-call from the night of October 9th. This story is long, long, complicated, and long, so I'll spare you most of the details. The important bits are a couple of conversations we had with some less-than-pleased residents. Another RA and I had entered a room for what we assumed was a simple noise violation.

Instead of handing over IDs, apologizing, and turning the music down, this particular room of boys lied about their names, lied about the ID numbers, lied about each other, tried to hide, tried to escape, and all in all drove us to insanity and back.

First, three residents tried hiding in a closet. I would like to point out this closet did not have a door. Apparently they subscribe to the newborn philosophy of "If I turn my back so I can't see her, she obviously cannot see me." Spoiler alert, idiot: I can still you.

Second, the entire room refused to identify the young boy passed out in one of the beds.

"Who is this boy?"
"We don't know."
"You don't know who he is. You just have a random boy sleeping in your bed, under your covers."
"Um. Yeah?"
 "Do you... think that I believe that?"
"Ok. Fine. He's a recruit."
"I don't know what that means."
"For sports. He's here looking at the school."
"Looking at the school? Are you telling me this kid is in high school?"
The entire room looked down at their feet. So he's in high school. Brilliant.

Third, there was Mark*. Mark was not happy about being written up. Mark liked to stand a little too close to me. Mark liked to yell. Mark had bad breath and a worse temper. Mark is now banned from ever entering our building.

And then there was Daniel. Sweet, stupid Daniel. Daniel was the clever little shit who thought he could leave the room and avoid any trouble. What Daniel failed to consider, however, was that already knew that he lived in the room, meaning we knew where he lived, what his name is, and that he is a huge jerk. All right, we don't have that last one on file, but some things you figure out pretty quickly.

You would think after escaping a room, it would be a good idea to leave altogether. Daniel thought he'd hide in a staircase. You would think that after being found a second time, it would be a good idea to just hand over your ID. Daniel thought he'd lie, say he did not have his ID, and hand us his debit card instead.

His debit card, which happened to say his older brother's name on it. His debit card: the backup ID for his older brother's ID, which he used to illegally enter bars and buy alcohol.

Oh, my darling Daniel. Your stupidity is my entertainment.

So what's the lesson here? That people are dumb, and it's funny? Unfortunately, no, this is not the lesson. The lesson is that people panic. When residents are in trouble, fight or flight kicks in. It really is better to just stick it out, but most people don't realize that right off the bat. They want to leave or they want to argue. They do this because they are scared. I'm not saying they're cowards, but they know there will be consequences. They forget the consequences of running or yelling are actually worse. They make mistakes, they usually regret them, and they usually are genuinely sorry later on (when they've sobered up).

I know I'm not the only one this has happened to. Tell me your biggest moments of stupidity. If anything, we can all at least get a laugh.

*All names changed for privacy.

Resident Assistants: A Beginner's Guide

I have been a resident assistant at a large college in the Northeast for one year and two months. I have been called a friend, a parent, and the antichrist. To some people, I am a source of comfort in times of panic and stress. To others, I am the panic and the stress. I've made lives easier, and I've made them exorbitantly difficult. I've been thanked, and I've been threatened.

The life of an RA is a 24/7 walk along a very thin, grey line. We have to be the friendly RA: the one who bakes cookies during finals week, who answers the door at five o' clock in the morning without complaining, who lends residents a shoulder to cry on when their roommates eat the last cup of Yoplait. We are also the ball breakers: we pound on doors when the music is too loud, we call the police and send only moderately drunk kids to the hospital, and we stand without sympathy when residents say, "But I'll lose my scholarship!" My response is always the same: look, kid, I don't make the rules; I just enforce them.

The problems we face and the issues we handle are never black or white. I've done things wrong, right, and seemed-right-at-the-time. Since August of 2009, I've had a total of four weeks of rigorous training and 11 months on the job. Half the time, I still have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I don't know the answers to everything, I screw up more often than not, I've made some seriously questionable decisions (professionally, personally, and those awful times where the two overlap), and I'm considered relatively good at this.

What makes this job so difficult is that you never face the same situation twice. You might have had a hundred alcohol incidents, medical transports, and roommate conflicts, but they are always different. People have a tendency to complicate everything, including (especially?) the things that are simplest. With that said, all the training in the world is still going to leave you in the dark and feeling unprepared.

My goal is to leave you confident. Your job is not easy. You're going to mess up. You're going to feel confused, lost, scared, pissed off. Sometimes you're going to feel like a real jackass. It happens. I'll share with you my shining moments, my utter failures, and a few of the worst days of my life. Be confident, keep your integrity, learn to improvise, stay on your toes, and remember to just relax. I hope you'll take away some good tips and learn from these stories.

I'm always interested in hearing from others, so feel free to share, ask questions, and give suggestions.

See you around!