During my first week of freshman year, I decided that I had too much free time. To solve this problem, I determined that I would try my hand at Club Tennis. That same weekend, after a grueling Saturday morning match, I remembered that losing was not something I enjoyed. I then tried to be a Flat Hat writer, but it turns out that writing was “talent”-related. By my first Friday morning class, I learned that only half of the students considered mandatory attendance, um, mandatory. With no lectures and no activities to attend, my college experience was not mirroring the endless smiling faces of past students in the Office of Undergraduate Admissions.
And then, just hours before I was seriously considering the Quidditch club, my OA gave me some advice. She told me of a world of sundresses, formals, gifts, clue weeks and never-ending sunshine (at least that’s what it seemed like). I found myself signing up for recruitment that very same night.
What she didn’t explain was that before you could receive any presents, you had to survive two grueling weekends of endless small talk, get a crash course in name tag decoration, and achieve a comprehensive knowledge of the Greek alphabet. By the beginning of the second weekend, I was enthusiastic … at best. Mostly, I stayed because I had now paid the non-refundable $25 fee — an investment I was planning to capitalize on in the form of the endless supply of pretzels and cookies available between rounds.
By the time the second weekend was coming to a close, I did walk away with a few insights. Food was a topic all girls loved and agreed on — bonus points if you mention anything covered in chocolate. Also, standing in a circle with 900 sorority women humming at you can be normal, depending on the circumstances.
When I received my bid that Sunday morning, I realized the best part: it didn’t matter if I didn’t have talent, a semester payment could guarantee me at least 90 new friends (not that the chocolate cookie attached had any influence).
With my junior year in full swing and a bank account that shrinks visibly with each Wawa visit, I now have two years of recruitment under my belt. With that, I’d also like to claim that I have some comprehensive advice to offer to our new generation of sundresses. So here it is, advice from a sorority girl, and no warning attached.
Tip #1. Not all of my assumptions were right — 900 women humming at you in unison will be weird, always.
Tip #2. Aside from the two or three Greek letters that will describe your chapter, you will make no headway in the Greek alphabet. Plato will continue to look down on you in shame.
Tip #3. Contrary to popular accusations, you are not paying for friends — the girls never see a cent of the dues you pay anyway.
Tip #4. Baking cookies is not a hobby, but a mandatory skill. To succeed, just double the sugar, and make sure to have a fire extinguisher on hand. Also, learn that Bloom has a bakery — just remove the box and arrange on a plate and no one will ever know the difference.
Tip #5. You will never have to buy a single T-shirt ever again. Also, forget your favorite color, for your wardrobe will consist solely of your chapter’s two colors.
Tip #6. Recruitment means that girl crushes are not only acceptable, but mandatory. It can be weird and you may feel uncomfortable, but you will have to get over it.
Tip #7. If you have yet to watch Legally Blonde and House Bunny, I suggest you do.
Tip #8. There should be an official disclaimer for all of the nonsense that I can write because if recruitment and sororities were really that terrible, I would not be a junior member (and loving every single second of it).
Until then, rush on, my friends, and don’t forget to find some pink perfumed paper for your resumes.
__Dasha Godunova is a Confusion Corner columnist. She likes elephants, eating whipped cream out of the can, and hopes that this article will not incur the wrath of the wonderful Greek life staff.__