What It’s Really Like Being Social Chair, Described By Mean Girls


Social chair is supposed be the “fun” position on exec board, but it’s nothing like that. Sure, you plan mixers and formals and semi-formals, but you also have to deal with the drunk sisters, the lazy dudes, and all the boring shit that makes the fun things fun. Initially, it seems like the perfect position, but once you spend a night that was supposed to be the “greatest formal in the history of formals” holding a sister’s hair while she throws up in the bathroom, that all changes.

There’s so much that we, as social chairs, have to endure to make sure that the rest of the chapter has fun, you don’t even know. For those who think I’m lying or being dramatic, let me explain the entire experience of becoming social chair and I guarantee you’ll rethink running next semester.

At first, you’re so proud to be elected and go from active to executive member.


You can’t wait to start planning mixers and date events and formals because you just KNOW you can do a better job than that bitch Tracy last year, because if you’re being honest, formal wasn’t even that fun.


You start talking to boys and realize that all of them want to mix with you but there’s not enough room in the social calendar to fit them all, so you have to make cuts. Loser fraternities out.


“I’m sorry, but our social calendar is currently full. Maybe next semester!” is really social-chair speak for:


When talking themes with the fraternity social chairs, for some reason they only suggest ones with “hoes” in the title. Or strippers. Or ABC. Seriously?


Right before the first mixer, everyone in the sorority is texting asking you pointless questions like “Am I dressed to theme enough?” or “What time does it start?” or “Will there be hot guys there?”

You make it to the first mixer, and everything is going perfectly, until some freshman has to be a total dweeb and embarrass everyone by asking a stupid question in front of the hot guys you’re already scoping out as potential formal dates.


You try and play it cool.


But really, you’re thinking:


You’ve introduced yourself to everyone important, had a few drinks, and are finally starting to relax when you realize literally all of your sisters are fucking trashed.


What do you do? Just send everyone home early? Take them into to the bathroom to give a chapter pep talk about acting like normal human beings instead of drunk bitches? It’s in that moment you realize you’re already far too drunk for this shit. This is bad.


By some miracle, everyone has an amazing time, no one embarrasses themselves, and the mixer is deemed a huge success by both parties. You get texts the next day thanking you for all your hard work and all the girls at meeting are gushing about how much fun they had.


You’re like, “I know. I’m the best social chair ever.”


The girls who weren’t allowed to go to the mixer because they didn’t complete study hours or pay their dues on time act super salty because they know they missed out.


Whatever. You start planning date events, but quickly realize every single date you have in mind someone has a wedding or midterms or their cat is planning to die that day. Literally everyone has some type of conflict and let’s you know how hurt they’ll be if they can’t make it. Raise your hand if you’ve ever been victimized by an entire chapter.


One thing you learn as social chair is that you can try and please everyone, but:


You have this really awesome idea of making the next date event one giant drinking game, so you run it by your president and she says no fucking way. You’re pissed, because what could possibly go wrong? The president is just being a fun ruiner.


You thought she was on your side about these things. She’s officially dead to you.


You find the perfect venue for formal and you’re so excited about it. You’re picturing it going flawlessly. Then you learn another sorority is eyeing your venue for their formal the same weekend. That is NOT going to work. You consider different ways to stop it from happening, but in your mind it all ends the same. meangirls3

But you’re a problem solver, that’s why you were elected to this position in the first place. So you go to the venue and cry in front of the staff until they give it to you. Problem solved.


You start writing down the prices of everything you buy for formal because if you forget one more time, the treasurer might actually kill you. Who knew charter buses were so damn expensive?


So you booked formal, but dealing with the people from your formal’s venue is impossible. It’s like they don’t know how to respond to a single email. All you asked was “If someone throws up in the ice sculpture, do we still get our deposit back?” It’s a yes or no answer.


The people at the venue hate you. You keep calling every few days when you think of something new that you absolutely need and if they don’t make it happen you’ll have a bitch fit. Staff members avoid your phone calls. They even hang up on you.


It’s the day of formal. You’re looking hot and you’re ready to have a good time at the event that took you six months to plan and perfect. You walk in to the room, a little tipsy, like:


But then a million problems hit you at once and you’re just like:


Everyone needs something from you and all you need is a drink. STOP BUGGING ME!


Finally, formal is over. Nobody got alcohol poisoning, but someone did throw up in the ice sculpture, but whatever, you weren’t planning on getting that deposit back anyways. It was a massive success, but the next day you feel like this:

You did it. You finished the semester. Barely, but you did it. You think about how awful and stressful this job is, and consider quitting for the next semester. Then you realize no one can do a better job than you, because this semester’s social events kicked ass. The sorority is already excited for what you have in store for next semester, and you feel like a party-planning goddess.


You’re never giving up this position.

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Cristina Montemayor

Cristina is a Grandex Writer and Content Manager. She was an intern for over two years before she graduated a semester early to write about college full time, which makes absolutely no sense. She regretfully considers herself a Carrie, but is first and foremost a Rory. She tends to draw strong reactions from people. They are occasionally positive. You can find her in a bar as you're bending down to tie your shoes, drinking Dos XX and drunk crying to Elton John. Email her: (not .com).

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