Rejection therapy—the art of learning how to be let down—is often associated with relationships, jobs and internships. They break us, sure, but we learn, grow and move on. There is, however, a fourth overly humbling, humiliating and utterly excruciating deliverer of rejection therapy. And that’s the Student Housing Department at Bucknell University.
No student on this campus will ever escape the wrath of whoever signs those Student Housing emails. They are worst served cold on a silver platter, with the first being a rite of passage: a random freshman year roommate.
Contrary to most colleges, all incoming students are assigned an unplanned roommate. Thankfully, I was one of the lucky ones. To this day, my random roommate is still my best friend. It was a match made in heaven: neither of us slept and both of us snoozed our alarms. She’s also just chill. And funny.
Yet, we were an extreme minority. As in, we were the only roommates who didn’t want to smother each other with a pillow. Some complaints I heard were tacky: they didn’t take out the trash, or talked on the phone too loudly. Most were, for lack of a better word, a downright evil horror film. Guess what they got when they asked housing to move? One big fat email starting with, “Unfortunately, we are unable to” and ending with, “Best, Student Housing.” Rejected! Rejected, rejected, rejected.
But that’s only one way Housing lets you down. Option two is the more generalized, infamous lottery.
The lottery is simple: everyone’s assigned a random number that determines the order in which they pick living arrangements. Slot 1 goes first, slot 2 second, etc. Pretty easy. Until you get the last number in the lottery. Or, you only have three roommates and can’t select an apartment without a fourth. So you shoot your shot: “Hey, housing! We only have three roommates. Any chance we can still get an apartment and you can fill the vacancy with anyone you’d like?” Seems reasonable. Not. Fasten your seatbelt, cause you’re about to hear the biggest no this world has ever no’d. Which brings me to option number three: the loophole of housing accommodations.
Accommodations happen when you have a concern that the office can’t ignore, i.e, you have allergies and need a private kitchen. Nothing too crazy. And don’t worry, because housing has your back! About 15% of the time. Or, if your parents threaten to sue the school.
I, myself, fall into the accommodation category for a plethora of unfortunate reasons. After a volume of signed medical records, along with the fact that my roommates and I are rising seniors, the OAR agreed that we would likely be placed in a South Campus apartment. AKA, where all the seniors live. My hopes were soaring. Then, I get the email from Housing: “Hi. Per your OAR review, we have assigned you a 4-person dorm in Roberts Hall.” AKA, where all the sophomores live. Are we joking? R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D, rejected.
Did I email back expressing concern? Yes. Was I rejected? Also yes. And no one understands how much stuff four twenty-year-old girls accumulate in one year. We have a futon, a love sac, a human-sized stuffed nutcracker, a couch, three flags, two T.Vs, a shower curtain with a monkey throwing $100 bills, a coffee bar and an entire wall covered in photos. So, if Housing assumes that we can fit all that stuff into a tiny sophomore dorm room, then unfortunately, we are going to have to reject that assumption. The moral of this story is that no relationship, no internship and no job will ever provide the same type of rejection therapy that Bucknell Student Housing dishes out every single year. That being said, if you need me, I’ll be in my new, updated housing assignment that the office has so graciously provided me: a pitched tent on the Malesardi Quad.