Two Name Tags

I’ve donned two name tags today.  One illegally, one legally.

This weekend is competitive scholarship weekend at my school.  High school seniors come from all over the land to wear their letter jackets topped with carefully practiced nonchalance.  They also carry folders filled with many, many brochures, and branded with the school logo.  I know all this because it’s exactly what I did three years ago.

Witnessing the rebirth of the incoming freshman from behind the counter at Higbies, I decided I wanted to be involved.  Shift over, complementary coffee discarded in favor of bigger ideas, I went downstairs to the Academic Center for Enrichment.  Forgivemeohreaders, but I headed straight for the table in the back, grabbed a marker and a blank name tag, and made myself into an authority figure.  For good measure, I scribbled some of the activities I’m involved in under my name.  For good measure, I also left my work vest on.  Nothing says official quite like black polar fleece with satin stitching.

I then proceeded to give three tours, talk five sets of parents back from the edge of “Good Lord my child is an English major,” and drink a complimentary cup of cider.  All with a forged name tag and an ugly vest.

Later this evening the legitimate name tag came into play.  I had my Orientation Group Leader interviews, before which I was actually invited to make a name tag.  Ironically enough, OGLs are responsible for showing new freshmen the ropes during their first week of college.

So many people apply to be RAs and OGLs that the interviews are split into hour sessions that span an entire weekend.  Twelve applicees interview per session, and six of the twelve are put into each group.  Said groups go to two different rooms to perform two different activities in front of two different panels of reigning RAs and OGLs.  It was intimidating at first to have to discuss and brainstorm and be utterly charming and charismatic in front of fifteen staring panel members, but shock wears off quickly when you’re fighting tooth and nail (albeit charmingly and charismatically) for a job.

In the end, it was a fun time.  I offered to draw the masterpiece that was my group’s vision for the campus in fifty years.  The panel apparently found my stick people inspiring, because they offered me the job on the spot.  I refused, of course; it was only fair.

Good night, and if it makes you feel better; I too am upset that Bon Iver didn’t perform “Skinny Love” on SNL.  And that Channing Tatum isn’t very funny, bless his heart.

 

 

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