With the staff selection process currently underway, I, like any upperclassman stuck with a Tier 3 draw, decided to apply to staff as an RA to avoid living in Trancos.

I soon found out, however, that the selection process was not easy. From questions like “What type of food would you be?” to “What’s your mother’s maiden name and your social security number?” all I could think of was “An avocado” and “Oh, no, mommy told me not to tell that to strangers.”

After getting through all the formalities that come with wanting to be an RA (such as the essays, the interviews, etc.), I was onto the real fun stuff: all the quirky traditions the dorms had.

And let me tell you, it was not easy: chugging hot sauce, surviving three different RF hazings, having to deface the famous Lamborghini-yellow sculpture, break into the Denning House (that one building that is next to Roble that no one knows what it’s for but everyone suspects something super sketchy about it) — and so many more things that I signed an NDA on and am unable to disclose any details about at the given moment.

That said, I am willing to go on a limb here and just say that I’m sending a cease and desist statement to the Physics department for being complete CENSORED and not accepting my Physics credits from high school.

Finally, it was my time — my time to shine, that is. After getting the news that I will be staffing Crothers, my jaw dropped to the floor. How? I hadn’t even applied there. They still accepted me after I pregamed the group interview and puked my guts out during it — how could this be? This is utter nonsense. It’s fair to say that the ResX taskforce will be hearing from me.

Feeling utterly confused and embarrassed, I ended up deciding to go to Norway and became a mountain hobo.

Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.

Contact Ruslan Al-Jabari at rjabari ‘at’ stanford.edu.