Miss RA

It's 11:15 on a Thursday night in residence and I'm lying in my marginally stiff yet welcoming bed. Complete with one plush, comfy pillow, and some others that usually end up being thrown on the floor throughout the night, I try to find comfort in my otherwise restless state. The day has already seemed like an extended version of an 18 hour documentary on the importance of flossing, and there is still a long way to go before it's over.

I try to find my bearings as I count down the minutes until I can peacefully rest my head in slumber.

Yeah, right. Like that will be happening tonight. I'm already on edge. Text messages, emails, phone calls, updates, meetings, projects, committees, it's been a non-stop, no breathing, flyin' by the seat of your pants kind of day. And to top it off – my skin is sticky from the misty, salt-water-fog air of Halifax and with how my hair reacts to the humidity – I'm not feeling all that cute.

Close my eyes.

Switch positions.

Put the hair up.

Flick on the TV.

Close the blinds.

Hair down.

Change the channel.

The remote control falls on the floor and thats enough for me to not care and leave it on whatever channel has landed on. My mind starts to wander.

Work tomorrow at 8 AM.

Co-op assignment due at 4 PM.

Speech due by midnight.

That project for work needs to be finished.

I've got to plan a programming event.

That last one didn't go so well...

What am I doing wrong?

When am I going to have time to do that?

Shoot, I didn't have a meeting yet for the charity day committee...

When is that again?

No, not. Yes. The same day as the fundraiser for work.

brrrring, rinnnggg. brrrring, rinnnggg.

Just what I need, Assisi front desk.

“Hello”, I say with my most chipper voice

“Hi Melissa, sorry to bother you but we've got a noise complaint. Could you check out 7^th floor please?”, says Noelle.

“Sure thing, thanks!”, masking my state of frustration and lack of patience.

I grab my master keys for the building, throw on my “housing” sweater, grab the “duty binder” and head out my room. Closing the door behind me as I look begrudgingly at the duty calendar.

“Thursday: Melissa”

Thursdays are the worst day to be on duty, especially when you have co-op the next morning. Thursday nights are when residence students like to party, fresh off a “long week” of classes, ready for the weekend. It also means staying awake until 1:00 AM in order to do a final “round” of the building. Such is the role of a Residence Assistant at the Mount.

I walk down the yellow-lit hallway toward the back staircase, in haste. I can feel my frustration boiling inside me. My face is getting red, my steps are getting quicker and more prominent. I keep telling myself, “Oh they have picked the wrong night.” I swing open the door to the 7^th floor and shake my head. Biting my tongue to remain calm I scan the situation ahead of me...

#1 tell the four people using a cot as a couch in the hall it get up and get off

#2 tell the guests they need to show their passes.

#3 tell the people in the hall they need to get in a room and step away from the fire extinguisher, fast.

#4 chuck the bottles.

#5 deal with the obnoxious boy who's testing his luck.

“Are you all residence students?”, I ask, albeit with a little bit of volume in my voice. Two girls piped up on the couch that they were guests. I asked them to show me their passes to which they obliged.

“And you?” I say to the preppy, scrawny boy standing in front of me, beer can in hand.

“Ahh, yeah, no I live here.” he says to me with a relatively straight face.

“Oh, do you?” I questioned as I had never seen this guy before a day in my life. Working on campus as an RA for two years has enabled me to have a keen memory for faces and his was not in the history books, “In Assisi? Really?”

“Yeah?” He replies, with a hint of bad attitude.

I can feel my whole chest heat as my patience is quickly draining. “What's your name?” my right eyebrow lifts as it always does when I know I'm right.

“Ahh...John”, he says back to me like he had forgotten what he'd been called for his 19 year old life.

“And where do you live, 'John'”, I shoot back to him.

“Um, third floor” he says as he looks slightly to the left.

“Room?” I know I've got him now. I know everyone who lives on that floor.

“301” he says. Not knowing that that is Geneiva's room, the RA of 3^rd floor.

“Oh yeah?”, I smile in confidence, “And who's your RA?” I ask, knowing that everyone on campus knows who their RA is and where they are located.

“Oh, I don't know who my RA is, I don't care about that, how would I know?” he snobbishly replies.

That's not how things work here at the Mount. We are a small school with a small residence community and everyone knows who their RA is in the building.

“Listen, I have a list of everyone on campus in this binder. But I don't need that to know there isn't a 'John' on third floor, and definitely not living in the RA's room. Now you can tell me who's guest you are, or you can get out of the building.” Perhaps on another night I would have been more laid back, joked around a bit, and ultimately came to the same conclusion. But tonight I have no patience and I never take kindly to being lied to. In fact, that is the one thing in the world I hate most. It's the idea that that person thinks they are clever enough, and I am stupid enough, that I will believe anything they say.

I gather up the students that hadn't been signed into the building, a procedure that we have in order to ensure safety in residence, and brought them to the elevator. “John” apparently wasn't finished with his attitude as he sauntered in after making everyone wait. Someone asks if we are going to move, to which he replies, “Well Miss RA here is making all of us wait.”

“Excuse me?” my eyes widen, lips tightened, and head cocked to look down on him, “Do you have a problem with me doing my job?”

“What, all I said was we're ready to go.” His demeanour changed from being the big bulldog to a quivering poodle.

“That's not what you said and the issue is your attitude. I don't have a problem throwing you right out of the building if you want to keep it up.”

Now I'm furious. The audacity he has to be so rude. It didn't matter what he said now. He lied, he was disrespectful, and he was arrogant. If I've inherited one thing from my mother it's that I'll never forget when people try to make a fool out of me and they'll know it.

We get to the front desk where Noelle looks at me and the elevator full of half stumbling baboons and shakes her head, “what have we got here?”

“We need some guest passes please,” I say tensely. She can read the frustration on my face – not like I'm trying to hide it.

The guests all sigh as they have to take time away from their drinking to do the mundane procedure of showing their ID and filling out the book. 'John' approaches the desk with ID in hand and shows it to me, “Oh, Aiden not John, hmm, look at that.” I say as I write his name down and give a knowing look to Noelle behind the desk. I told them all that their passes aren't for overnight and therefore they have to be out of the building by 1:00, “And I will be around to check.”

They all looked at each other and with their shaking heads and went back on up to resume their party while I am left fuming at the front desk. In disbelief as I can't remember the last time someone bold face lied to me.

I'm nearly jumping I have so much adrenaline. Half-way contemplating why I ever took this job in the first place: I was mad. I couldn't stop myself from fuming, “Can you BELIEVE the AUDACITY!?” I exclaim in disbelief myself.

While I approach my room there are a million thoughts going through my head. Replaying the situation, word by word, analyzing what I did. I knew my stress was elevated from earlier and likely created a more hostile attitude on my end of the conversation. But I was just in what I said and how I reacted. Rules are rules. Respect is respect. Perchance it wasn't aligned with my typical bubbly, laid-back attitude, but every moment I replay how I, “Miss RA”, handled the situation I wasn't disappointed.

I walk back into my room, pillows on the floor and lay my head down yet again in my stiff yet welcoming bed. Now to add to the to-do list: Write a report of the night's events.

Here's hoping for a peaceful night of slumber.

2:15 AM: brrrring, rinnnggg. brrrring, rinnnggg.

*names have been altered in order to maintain the confidentiality of those involved