A VA’s definition of ‘normal’

Bizarre.

If I had to describe being a VA in one word, I would choose bizarre. Day after day, I encounter strange things that should make me think twice but don’t. I’ve come to realize that you know you’re a VA when you’re entirely unphased by the things you see or the situations you have to encounter. 

However, each of my bizarre experiences has taught me something, so I thought I would cover just a few of the things I’ve come across. 

Winter wonderland (courtesy of a fire extinguisher)

My idea of a good time at 4 a.m. is a nice, deep sleep. For some freshmen, it’s taking a fire extinguisher to the day room of a residence hall. Potato, potahto. 

This past Thanksgiving break, I was on-call and sleeping peacefully when suddenly, the heart-stopping-then-restarting fire alarm went off right above my head (because my bed is lofted). I scrambled blindly to find my glasses and my winter coat, grabbed my personal phone, the on-call phone and found my way outside. 

I held the door open for the few residents still in the building, called the hall director on call and talked to Campus Safety when they arrived. 

Now, normally, a fire alarm is nothing bizarre. However, I was then told that it wasn’t because of a faulty wire or a burnt pizza; someone had taken a fire extinguisher and sprayed it all over the furniture and carpeted floor of a day room. This meant that not only was I in charge of making sure residents were safe and staying in one place, I also had to keep my eyes open for anyone who seemed just a little bit too happy to be awake at that ungodly hour.

Because I was on call, I got to see the day room turned into a winter wonderland. To be honest, it really just made me wonder what goes on in the brains of some freshmen. 

However, it was a teaching experience. It taught me that handling situations at 4 a.m. is not my strong suit. 

Just Dancing freshman year away 

Another mild example of the odd happenings of freshman dorm life is walking into a Just Dance party in a day room. The Wii game was projected onto a white wall, the furniture was all shoved into one corner and about 15 freshmen were competing in a tournament to see who could dance best. 

I’ll admit that walking into this is much better than walking into a game of beer pong. However, hearing Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” blasting and seeing just a little too much for my mom eyes was startling. 

Although I declined their very kind offer to join in, what I learned from this is that doing rounds never fails to provide you with a unique opportunity to interact with residents. 

The railing debacle of ‘18

I always like to preface this next story by saying that this happened on a Sunday night (technically Monday morning) and everyone was sober as far as I know. Just remember that.

When I was awoken at about 1 a.m. on a Monday morning by residents pounding on my door, I wasn’t particularly happy.

This building better be on fire, I thought to myself.

I was not greeted by flames, however. I was greeted by some of my residents with eyes as big as saucers. They told me that some freshman boys were messing around with the stair railing and they didn’t know what to do.

Naturally, I went to the stairs to investigate. No, my residents said, not the railing attached to the staircase. The railing that they had taken off the wall and were using as a quasi-weapon. Great.

I discovered that some freshmen had taken the heavy, metal railing off the wall and were using it for two reasons. The first was to pound on the wooden doors of rooms that line our hallways, evidently to wake people up. The second was leaning the railing against an innocent resident’s door, knocking regularly on the door and if they opened the door, the railing would fall in toward the resident. 

I know. I don’t understand either. 

When the culprits caught wind of the fact that VAs had been notified, they stopped their railing terrorizing and left it abandoned on a couch. 

What that taught me is that I will never truly understand freshman boys. Ever. 

When Christmas came early

Finals week is a stressful time. Walk into any building on campus and you can almost see the tension in the air. Many students lock themselves in the library, the Huddle or their rooms studying hard. Some students, however, do not.

I had the pleasure of being on call during Semester Shutdown (for non-Augie folks: it’s the last Saturday before finals start, and there are many stress-relieving activities planned all over campus).

Being on call during Semester Shutdown can go one of two ways. Either it’s completely quiet because students are too stressed to cause trouble or they forget how to function in a rule-following society completely. There’s no in between.

My on-call partner and I encountered the latter. While doing rounds, we came across a situation that could only happen during finals week.

There were quite a few students surrounding a room on a men’s floor. We went to see what was going on and were greeted by what looked like Santa’s workshop.

Every single thing in the room was wrapped in wrapping paper. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Every chair, desk, bed, couch, dresser, notebook and shoe was wrapped in wrapping paper. Evidently, the two roommates had gone out of town for the weekend and didn’t lock their doors (which is typical of freshman boys). Their spirited friends decided to take advantage of their absence and decorate their room from wall to wall. 

Looking back, I think it’s hilarious. In the moment, all I could really think was ‘don’t you have finals to study for? How do you have this kind of time?’

And what I learned from this is to always, always lock my door. 

The one thing I really don’t get paid enough for

Sometimes, I get the distinct pleasure of cleaning up another adult human being’s vomit. There’s really no amount of compensation that can justify that.

Nevertheless, it’s part of my job. If I come across it, I have to clean it up.

Now, cleaning up vomit isn’t bizarre on its own. However, what is bizarre is the fact that it no longer phases me. If I see it in the hallway or in a sink, some choice words cross my mind but then I just go in search of our vomit clean-up kit.

I could (and might) write a whole blog post about the absurdity of how it’s my responsibility to clean up vomit of someone who can legally vote and drive and get a tattoo. However, instead I’ll tell you that what I’ve learned from cleaning up vomit is that I’m wildly underpaid but also that I’m way more resilient than I thought. 

It’s worth it

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not a VA for the free room or stipend. I’m a VA so I can help freshmen and if that means dealing with freshmen that make absolutely no sense to me sometimes, it’s worth it. 

I always say that it provides me with a ton of great stories to tell and enough weird experiences to make me adaptable and strangely tolerant.

Bizarre runners up: A gallery for your viewing pleasure

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