As an average-looking brunette with a mildly offensive sense of humor, I was
skeptical of recruitment. There were times when I stared at the door of gorgeous blondes beckoning me into their mini mansion with wild hand gestures and overly enthusiastic chants and thought, What the hell am I doing?
However, I was born into a Southern family that believed in sacrificing their girls’ innocence in order to secure a place in Greek life and I chose a college where you’re asked what sorority you’re in before anyone gives a shit about your name. Recruitment definitely shaved off a few years of my life and confirmed certain stereotypes we all try to lie and say aren’t true. But in the end of it, I found my perfect home and a group of down to Earth girls to call my sisters. But to get to that point, it took a lot of sweat, a lot of tears, and meeting a lot of interesting characters also going through recruitment.
“Jesus, She’s Crying Again?”
I get it. It’s an emotional week, your whole future (sarcasm here, everyone) is riding on this! But there are always those girls who cry or at least tear up once a day. Maybe she got dropped by her favorite house, maybe her favorite house just promised her a bid. Maybe her high school boyfriend sent her flowers that morning. Maybe she found out her high school boyfriend just cheated on her (this always happens, by the way). Regardless of whether she’s happy or sad, this bitch is crying. You can never find out if it’s an attention deficiency or she really is just #blessed with extra hormones. I never got close enough to this species to figure it out. But word from the wise: stay away from this girl on Bid Day. No matter what her bid card says, she will be sobbing and heaving to an alarming degree.
The Girl Who’s Been Training For This
These particular girls have been bred for this week since their mothers tugged on their first monogrammed onesie. She’s been plotting and memorizing her lines since high school. “I just want to meet new people!” you’ll overhear her exclaim even though she chose the college an hour away from her high school and wants to be in the house with the girls that she cheered with in the ninth grade. You can count on her to know everything about every sorority on the row: from each philanthropy to what fraternities they typically sleep, I mean pair, with. But if you need any last minute information or dirt on a house, she’s the girl to go to.
Her mother, her aunts, her cousins were all Alpha Zeta Leta Chis and her great great great something was a founder. She just ~knows~ that’s where she belongs before her feet even cross the threshold of the house. Don’t make the mistake of talking to this girl for too long because you’ll get trapped in a long winded tirade of her trying to convince both you and herself that she “like, for sure has a spot in the house so not even worried about anything!” It’s polite to pretend you don’t notice the nervous crack in her voice when she says this.
“My Mom’s Making Me Do This”
Don’t get this one confused with the legacy. This girl is constantly eyeing the exit, rolling her eyes and rapid-fire texting her friends making fun of the sociopath with monogrammed toenails. She’ll pretend she’s not flattered when the top tier house dirty rushes her via Facebook and she’ll sigh when her mom calls with questions during lunch. She really could care less about rush but her parents are paying for out of state tuition, “so whatever it’s the least I could do I guess.” The worst part is, she’ll most likely end up in a top tier house and not even bat an eyelash. That bitch.
There is always that girl who has no idea what she’s doing. She’ll be the girl beside you who jumps in terror when the door to the first house is thrown open and the perfectly contoured faces in the door start screaming their chant. She’ll wear too much eyeliner the first day and you’ll find her confusion refreshing. She is the face of innocence. Let her borrow your powder when you see her glistening and befriend her. She’ll be your favorite person by Bid Day.
Hey, at least it’s only a week, right?.