There I was again. Swiping IDs, tranquilizing sheep, and putting off homework. The last thing I needed was further distraction from my work, but of course distraction seizes the opportunity when it is least convenient for me. And it came in the form of three drama queens.
They were clearly intoxicated, stumbling in the doors and huddling just inside the entrance, balling their eyes out. Part of me wanted to offer help, but I wasn't sure if I should just let them cry it out.
I texted up to the front desk, "Ummm there are three girls here crying hysterically in the entrance...what do I do? Haha."
No response. I stared at the girls for a few more seconds trying to cross over from amusement to compassion. Action time.
I went over to the little group-huddle and attempted to get their attention, but they all had their faces turned in together. All I could hear were incoherent mutterings, broken up by hiccups and wails.
"Excuse me, are you girls okay? Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked.
They turned and looked at me fiercely. Two of them still whimpered, but one composed herself enough to respond to me - very rudely, I might add.
"It's a girl thing," she snapped. "You wouldn't understand." And the girls shuffled back outside to continue their blubberfest.
So I returned to the desk, and I texted again to the main entrance just in case they cared at all.
"For some reason, I thought I was a girl. My bad."
Apparently, being an RA also neutralizes your gender. Just an RA thing, I suppose...
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