The Life of a Community Director

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The Final Post

"Now we all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, 'that's baaaaad.'"

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, Dead Poet's Society. I've thought much about that movie this past week, even though a John Keating I most certainly am not. This will be the last entry to what I hope was an entertaining, informative, objectively opinionated (ha) look into the life of a Community Director. It has to be the end, because the Community Director has a life no longer. Hmm, no...poorly worded. Rather, the life I live from this point forward will never again intersect with the hall I used to manage. My life as a Community Director is gone. Poof. Kaput.

I wanted to post this last entry in order to say goodbye in the best way I could manage and to make sure that a few things were understood. I LOVED this job. For almost a decade I stayed, year after year after year, because I knew that I was making a difference. I try to remain modest, but I am also being honest when I say that I HAVE CHANGED LIVES. I have made a difference in a way that many people will never be able to understand. I did not discover the cure for cancer. I did not make the lame walk, or part the Red Sea. But I have ignited passions, shaped dreams, mitigated disasters, and helped the quiet find their own voice. I did these things, and I did them well. I did them in the company and with the assistance of great colleagues and mentors whom I wouldn't trade for anything on this earth. They have made me a better man.

History teaches us that the we graduates (and not-so-graduates) refer to our universities as our Alma Mater, and if I may be so bold as to borrow from Robertson Davies: "the college is truly an Alma Mater, a Bounteous Mother, and from one breast she gives her children the milk of knowledge and from the other the milk of salvation and good doctrine." The small part I played on this campus was in guiding my residents as they attempted to face the children they once were on their way to becoming the men they were meant to be. In many ways I stood in loco parentis, but I've always believed that it was impossible for a university or anyone in it to truly stand in place of the parents. I consider myself a little more of a big brother. Having walked many of the same roads, I can tell you where the potholes are when it's raining, or at least hand you a towel to dry yourself off afterwards.

Although I am sure that this will not be the last time I ever help anyone, my time as a guiding force is largely over, or at least on hold. Someone else will have the reins here, and by the end of the semester these freshmen will barely remember that I existed. I don't feel too badly about it however, because I suppose deep down I know that it is time for me to leave. As much as I have always loved my residents and this university, the atmosphere is becoming increasingly toxic and it was increasingly difficult to be the best that I could. I was a Community Director. Not a police office or a father, no matter how badly some may have felt that I needed to be both. But the time for criticism is past. I have boxes I need to pack, a UHaul that I need to load and a road I need to get on.

Don't be mistaken. I am saddened that it has to end like this, but I refuse to let this keep me down. The dreams I dream are too vibrant, radiant and full of daring to be shut down by the petty affairs of small men in off-the-rack suits and hand-me-down principles. I have no time for them; there's nothing they can do for me.

My termination from this university is a minor setback. I'm going... wherever I end up, to lick my wounds and plan anew. To take some time and listen to the universe, and set sail in whatever direction the sun is pointing when I decide to open the door again. Much less poetically, I am leaving this blog and beginning again somewhere new. Slainte.

"Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

All opinions here are as they have always been...entirely my own. And...if I may be permitted one last "teachable moment." To my residents, past and present, to those I will never know, Be not another if thou canst be thyself.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The End is Here

All good things must end, but I never thought that it would be this soon...

At 9 a.m. yesterday morning I was let go by the University. By 9:30 I was escorted back to the building and asked to turn in my keys. The officer told me that I had about 10 minutes to pack a bag and vacate the premises, which would be fine if I were a standard employee and not someone...who lived in the building. I asked when I would be able to return and I was told that I had to make an appointment with my supervisor, and I would be allowed approximately 2 hours to clear everything out. Fine, except... where do I sleep now? Where am I going TONIGHT?

I think that's what bothered me the most at the time. I am not an overly emotional person, but... I was now homeless. I lost my job and my home in the matter of half an hour. Probably the only thing that saved me was the fact that the Vice-President is a mother. She and I had a very good talk, and eventually I was given a 7 day extension on my eviction. It's better than nothing. Of course, they had to give me new keys since...they changed my locks by 10 a.m.

This was not a sudden decision. Yesterday was a payday. My direct deposit did not appear. Instead I was handed a paper check. That takes more than a day. Apparently there were even students who knew about this weeks ago, let alone the staff members who leaked the information to them. This was just done wrong on so many different levels, not the least of which is that they waited until after right after RA training and Freshman Move-In to do it.

One irritating thing about this has been some of the support I received. "This is the kick you needed," "Now you're free," "You can move on to what you're meant to do," etc. ad infinitum. I will agree that I probably needed a bit of a boost out of here, but again...I'm homeless. This isn't the kind of boost that anyone should have to endure. I love you all and I am thankful for the support, but I was thinking in the immediate. I couldn't even shower and change clothes, or make breakfast. Being fired is one thing, but being locked out of your home is another.

So how do I feel? Betrayed. I have shown a tremendous amount of loyalty to my University over the years. I have skipped classes to work the desk because no one else would do so. I have turned down summer internships because I knew that no one else would step up and do the work that needed to be done. I worked one entire summer without pay because they needed me. (That was a very long and hungry summer.) I've continually done more with less and less, and rarely complained. I just made it happen. And when it was time for me to go, it was without a great deal of fanfare, or consideration. Indeed, there was only the slight rustling of a few papers, a signature or two, and a police escort...

I wasn't even fired. I was summarily dismissed... The distinction is an important one. They chose the far colder and more impersonal option. It was grouped under the en masse at-will layoff the University has been executing over the past few weeks, but I'm confused. Someone has to run the hall. You can't just eliminate my position. Well, maybe you can...

The worst part is that my staff is leaderless. My sudden and impromptu termination has left them without someone in charge. I don't know how long they'll have to be this way. Half my staff is new and half of them are going to be too busy with school and personal matters to try and fill my shoes. They have questions that I cannot answer. Or should not...I actually took a break from writing this post to help them out, and when I realized that I was again behind the desk, I felt... I don't know what I felt, but there was the sensation of walking into one's childhood home after someone else has bought it and changed the carpet.

My university's motto has always been Veritas et Utilitas, which they translate as "Truth and Service." But that has always been misleading. It translates more correctly as "Truth and Usefulness," and it fits. Because as soon as you're no longer deemed useful enough, well...I'll let you finish that sentence on your own.

In truth and...service, ladies and gentlemen, it has been my pleasure...

Legal Note: Opinions in this post are my own and not representative of the university I work for or the people I work under. All suppositions, presumptions, theories, hypotheses, etc. are my own. This blog is for entertainment purposes only, blah blah blah. There are purposely no names included in this post, and I have revealed nothing that violates either general expectations of privacy or the University confidentiality agreement, which, actually... I never signed anyway. All of that is to say...don't be trying to sue me.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Circle of Life

I'm still here...and so are the new residents...

Move-In weekend went much more smoothly than I would have expected. In the past, when the building was in better condition than it is now, I have always been forced to find ways to pacify the nitpicking parents who were unsatisfied with what we had to offer. Whether they thought there was too much dust for their asthmatic son or the room was too small or the furniture wasn't new enough... it has always been something. And that's in a good year.

Hey, guess what? This isn't a hotel.

This year, the building was most certainly not ready and I spent days gearing myself up for the complaints and dirty looks I knew I'd be receiving...but didn't. This might have been the quietest move-in I have ever experienced. Oh no, don't be misled, there was the occasional voice here and there. "I see a bigger room, can I have it?" "I've paid too much money for my son to live like this..." "This building is cracking my swag..." (verbatim by the way) but at the end of the day, the residents moved into their rooms largely without complaint. And I'm glad it's over.

Actually I'm still waiting for the phone calls I get every year once the students acclimate to their surroundings and report back home. "Is your hall really known as the gay one? I can't allow my son to live there." But that's a tale for another post.

I'll be honest. I'm not really in the mood to get to know this batch of residents. Knowing that I'm on my way out, and that I've been here long enough to have personally welcomed and presided over 2,000 people...I'm not that enthused anymore. I might be burned out on the idea of guiding 18-year-old dreams, enlightening 18-year-old ignorance, suppressing 18-year-old outbursts and comforting 18-year-old emotional angst.

Plus, this 18-year-old swag seems to conflict with my not-18-year-old mojo. I think it's time to go the way of Robert Frost. My road is diverging from theirs, and in about 10 months' time I must take the less-traveled course.

And that will make all the difference

Friday, July 29, 2011

7 In One Blow...

I was sitting here in front of my computer thinking about a young, brash Mickey Mouse. In the 1939 short "Brave Little Tailor," he is sent to combat a giant that has been terrorizing village after village. Promised the hand of the lovely Princess Minnie if he accomplishes this task, he heads off in search of the villain. Armed with only needle, thread and a pair of shearing scissors, young Mickey does battle with the giant, eventually victorious in what becomes a battle of wits, and the town is saved.

Why am I talking about this?

Because I feel like I've been killing 7 in one blow... I have had a severe mouse problem for the majority of the summer. Once the residents moved out and it was just me in the building, all the mice from every corner of this residence hall tried to invade me. At one point I was catching 2 to 3 mice a day. My total stands at 23, and that doesn't count the dead babies I've scooped up in the hallway outside my apartment or the one I found rotting under my sink. 23 mice. The frustration is unimaginable. My apartment is a little cluttered but it's not dirty. I don't keep food just any old where. And I was a brave little tailor. I had no access to poison. I just had to keep setting out traps...and more traps...and more traps. And using my wits to discover their path. But in the end, my wits were enough. I am victorious, or so it seems.

But wait, hey Raymond, why must you talk about this in your professional blog? Don't you have a personal blog in which to discuss this? Actually, yes I do, but I find this to be a professional matter for this reason. Recently I've discovered an initiative, not yet solidified or officially announced, to actually tax the Directors based on the assessed values of their apartments.

Yes, let that digest.

This apartment, that they force me to live in, which represents the largest reason why I'm already underpaid, is going to be taxed. If this passes then I will have to pay to live here, in a place in which I HAVE to live in order to do the job they've hired me to do.

The apartment, where I have already killed 23 mice in just over a month. The apartment that has the problems with gnats and drain flies every single summer. The apartment that I share with the ants no matter how many cracks I find and seal. The apartment that is directly connected to the hallway above me, that sees trash and debris fall down every other day. The apartment where the A/C does little to cool, filled with castoff furniture that they said was temporary.

Someone wants to tax that. I find this to be unacceptable for many reasons. The first is that...I probably wouldn't live here if I didn't have to. Gentrification has raised the value of the property around here, but at least the new buildings are nice. My apartment...not as much. I wouldn't pay what it would cost to live in an apartment this size in this area based on what I'm getting.

I cannot be taxed to live in a piece of crap apartment. One where when I ask for an exterminator, it takes them two weeks to get around to sending one over. An exterminator who just puts down more of the glue traps I already had, and then leaves. This is an apartment where I had to buy my own air conditioner because the central air here is always weak...when it works.

This school is slowly losing its mind.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Draft Day

I decided to write this because for the past 3 weeks I have been inundated with phone calls, emails, knocks on my door and many “chance encounters” from people who want to know if they will be a Resident Assistant in the fall. I’m tired of answering the same questions over and over, or saying “no comment.” Most people reading this have no idea how hard it is to wade through the mountain of applications for the best handful of applicants, and harder still to put together and maintain a great team. It’s because I have to play Coach, General Manager and President all in one. And with that being said…

Every year, hundreds of students apply to fill one of the (approximately) 50 positions that open up on the Residence Life staff. And every year I spend one week presiding over 100 interviews in order to pick the one or two people that I need, and the less than 10 recommendations that I will make to my colleagues. In this process, there are some things to note:

1. It starts before you apply:

The RA interviews are in late March, but I won’t even think about selecting anyone until at least May, and with good reason: what I look for in an RA has less to do with what future applicants might possess and more to do with what I’m losing. You don’t need to recruit a Sam Bradford if you’re starting a healthy Peyton Manning. Who’s graduating? What did (or didn’t) they contribute? Who doesn’t want to come back? Who don’t I WANT to come back? And who should fill those shoes?

2. Free agency matters more:

Now, before I even think about selecting candidates from the interviews I look at those who have already proven themselves in other halls and are thinking about a change of pace. Every spring there are a few RAs who talk to me about coming to my hall from wherever they are currently. And well, almost anyone would take a 2009 Matt Cassel over a fresh out of college and untested Matthew Stafford.

The only problem is that you don’t want to offend another Director by going after one of their people behind their backs, and the RA can only make the transfer if their Director affirmatively recommends them. I had a situation last year where I wanted someone that I couldn’t have literally because his Director would only say “it doesn’t matter” instead of “yes, it’s okay.” It was the most professional way to let someone’s chances die without taking any action against them.

In this way, Community Directors are like coaches and owners. We have trades, swap draft picks, squabble amongst ourselves over who gets who, and make deals that no one will ever know of outside of the conference room. It gets real in the field.

3. Every team needs something different:

Once I decide what my unmet needs are, THAT’s when I go back over the notes I made during interviews and begin to target people. Every year I pick a different type of RA depending on what my goals are, what people say they’re bringing to the table, and which RAs I’m keeping from the previous year. There are a lot of great candidates who aren’t team players, and a lot of hard-workers whose personality will entirely change the flavor of the soup. How many teams did Terrell Owens play for?

Speaking of personalities, I have turned down a few candidates because I knew we wouldn’t get along. I am a hard worker. I get everything done. I am also extremely laidback and relaxed, not a micromanager at all. Everyone doesn’t want to work with me, and many people wouldn’t know how to handle all the freedom I’d give them. I also have to factor in the fact that I know other Directors are looking at some of the same candidates. We each get 10 minutes on the clock. If you get there before me then my scouting report better be on point, which is why…

4. It’s not about YOU. It’s about my TEAM.

The most singular outstanding candidates don’t always get picked first. In some rare instances they get picked late, or not at all. Arian Foster is an outstanding running back who wasn’t drafted in 2009. In 2010, Sam Bradford went first overall, and Colt McCoy wasn’t taken until 84 selections later. WHY? Because record setting, Heisman-runner-up, 112 passing touchdown, 20 rushing touchdown, Mr.-I-Won-More-Games-As-A-Quarterback-Than-Anyone-Else-In-Dvision-1-HISTORY Colt McCoy didn’t seem to be a good fit for the NFL. His style of productivity didn’t fit a lot of offensive schemes. And that’s all it takes. I have turned down some potential superstar candidates because their skills would have been redundant, or I had a feeling that they wouldn’t work well with the rest of my RAs. The dominance of a Big Three is usually reserved for online play, folks. Especially on a staff as small as mine.

5. Off the field activities matter too:

My preliminary commitment to you is just that…a preliminary commitment. There’s a time gap between my first round of selections and candidates receiving their notices. You get investigated. If any other Community Director knows who you are, they are invited to speak for (or against) you. We look at your grades. I have made some outstanding selections that I couldn’t pick up because they had less than a 2.5 GPA on the day of verification. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter if your professor is about to clear up an incomplete, or if your criminal record is ABOUT to be expunged. If it’s not already a done deal, then my friend I must move on.

Oh, and don’t let it come out that you were ever in trouble on campus. You will not get the position that year. This policy actually affected me back in the day. October of my freshman year I partied a little too hard one night and I ended up being involved in a physical altercation with my RA. In March when I went to my interview he was on the selection committee… I had to spend another year proving myself before I could even be considered, and I still had to overcome some negative suppositions. It’s just the way the world works. Marcus Vick might have been twice the QB his brother is, but we’ll never know.

6. YOU don’t get to pick.

One of the most irritating things about the selection preference is those candidates who persistently tell me that my hall is where they need to be. Hush. When you’re trying to play in the big leagues, it’s more important to get your foot in the door than to start off exactly where you think you want to be. I appreciate zeal and enthusiasm, but I don’t need to see your 15 slide PowerPoint presentation detailing why only MY hall is where you belong. It’s the quickest way to end up nowhere.

One person who WAS selected lost his job for going behind his boss’ back during orientation. Having showed up as a selection for one hall, he continued to lobby I and at least one other Director to pick him. He said some unflattering things about his Director, and continued to pursue the matter. He didn’t make it past day 1.

It’s also important to note that the source of a recommendation matters greatly. If someone is generally regarded as an incompetent staff member, that might not be the person you want speaking up for you. Just saying.

Finally,

I could go on and on about the RA Draft but I won’t. Suffice it to say that every year there are several qualified individuals who don’t get picked up, and many more who are selected who bust like JaMarcus Russell. In many cases, it’s just the luck of the draw.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Our Finest Moment...

So I had the meeting with my boss and it was...interesting. He's really proving that the Peter Principle is alive and well in the housing office. The only difference is that I thought it might be me, and well...I still might suffer from it but not nearly as bad as my boss. The problem is that he takes everything too personally. It's as though he thinks that HE is housing and we all work for HIM instead of the university. No sir. Not the way it is at all.

Anyway, I launch right in and tell him all the points in his email that were wrong. How these rooms he thinks were occupied are filled with discarded items from the school year. How he was unprofessional in the way he went about things. How offended I was that an email went to the Vice-President about me without anyone asking me about the situation. How I told him about my Graduate Assistant being in the building, and at that point in time it was HIS responsibility to put him out if he wanted him out.

My boss told me that his "surprise trip" to my residence hall wasn't a "site visit" but a "fact-finding mission." Once he knew the facts, he didn't need to consult me. That's when we really got into it. Fact-finding mission my ass. It didn't go well. I made sure I let him know what I thought of him as a boss. Sometimes I regret that we as a people have progressed so far that open-handed slapping someone is not a recommended way to end an argument. Too many people out there need some "physical corrective measures."

I remember last summer when we had an argument and I told him that he's changed since becoming Dean of the department. I was wrong. Now that I think back he's always been the same smug so-and-so that he is now. He just has a little bit of power now. I like him as a person, I just can't deal with him as a boss. Smh...

I'm leaning towards skipping my performance review this summer. If you read my post about it from last year, then you already know how I feel about the process. Once you add in the fact that now I know that this man is unqualified to judge me or any level of my performance, then you understand why I think it's a waste in time. Besides, practically, last year my review amounted to a $900 per year raise. That comes to $34.62 per pay period...before taxes. No thank you. It's not that important.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Just Plain Childish...

Sometimes I just have to shake my head at this job. I spend all day dealing with teenagers who want to be adults but never stopped acting like children, but the worst part is when the adults I work with are guilty of the same thing.

Anyone who's read these posts know that I have a perpetual "difference of opinion" with my boss. We never seem to see eye to eye about anything. But as I am in the beginning stages of transitioning out of this apartment and away from this university, I can't say that I care.

The only way to tell today's story is to begin with the end of last summer. My residence hall is always closed, and it's supposed to be empty. I admit, I broke the rules last year and I allowed a small handful of people to live here. When my boss found out, I owned up to it. I took the reprimand and the associated condescension and...moved on. I've always been that kind of person. If I do something wrong and I get caught, I just take it. There's no need to make excuses.

With that being said, I knew better than to repeat that mistake this summer. I had people ask if they could stay and I told them all no. I just wasn't going to put myself through it. As much as I often feel the need to help people, it just isn't worth my job. I know my boss. I knew that at some point in time he was going to inspect my building and see if there were people in it. I've been waiting for it.

Right at the end of the school year my boss and one of my RAs were having a conversation. My boss asked him where he would staying for the summer, they talked, and my boss gave the "wink and nod." He also SAID (as he looked at me) "I know where you're going to be staying." Blah. A couple of weeks ago I also told my boss that there was a GA (Graduate Assistant) still in the building. I wasn't going to put him out because his particular program doesn't end when the others do. He's in the same classes from the spring, and I allowed him to stay. He also works directly with my boss over the summer. Everything seemed to be fine.

A few hours ago I received a phone call from a concerned birdie saying that my boss had heard something about people staying in my building and was coming to check it out. I thanked them and came back to check on everything. My RA had already seen him and talked to him. He says that on the one hand there wasn't an issue, and on the other hand there was, which is typical with my boss.

I don't object to the surprise inspection. I don't own this building. It's University property. I just manage it. He's the Dean of the department and should come over whenever he feels like it. I just disapprove of the way in which it was done. He came over to play "gotcha," as though we're both children. He didn't call me beforehand to say that he was coming, and he still hasn't called or emailed me to let me know that he was here. It's a common courtesy. He could have asked me if I was "harboring" people. He could have told me that he heard about people living here and wanted to check it out. Not a peep. I even made it a point to stop by the department after I heard he had been here. Nothing. Not a word.

I have a problem with men in their 40s still acting like children. I don't like people who are indirect in the workplace. I don't like flip-floppers. I don't like people who have power issues. If there is an issue then you should speak on it, not try to "catch" me. It's unprofessional and unquestionably a childish action. Sometimes I try to think better of people. Sometimes I realize that I shouldn't.