About this time last February, I confronted the harsh reality that I was completing my transformation into the fraternity alumnus that could not care less about the present-day affairs or current undergraduates of my once beloved Greek organization. Your boy’s just got one too many bills to evade and is always on the brink of a full-blown nuclear meltdown from this crushing existential, quarter-life crisis, so excuse me if funding new intramural jerseys or locking down Theta for homecoming isn’t exactly high on my priority list.
But the truth of the matter is I was a dispassionate dickhead long before graduation. After years of valuable contributions as recruitment, social, and party chairs respectively, I finally grabbed the most vital role in my chapter by the balls. In what can only be described as one of the biggest acts of selflessness and courage, I took it upon myself to sacrifice the involved, enthusiastic member I then was to become the apathetic, asshole senior my fraternity desperately needed.
Where there was a rambling JI speaking idealistic nonsense about the future of the fraternity they had in mind, I was never far behind with a “motion to close.” Where there was a lengthy discussion on a polarizing new pledge that was causing a Sunday night session to go well into primetime TV hours, you could count on me to chime in with a “fuck ’em — motion to ball.” If we weren’t out of a chapter meeting in under an hour, I personally put it on myself as an incredible failure. Not all heroes wear capes.
As far as mandatory events, I was as reliable as it got. Sure, my signature would still be drying on the dotted line at the check-in tent while I walked right back out the door I came in two minutes beforehand, but — last time I checked — those points still count for Greek week or whatever sorority 5k prevents me from getting fined that particular weekend.
What’s that? Jerry says I should start acting like I give a single fuck about this brotherhood? Well that’s funny considering I didn’t see Jerry’s name on that sign-in sheet. His entire family was in a serious car crash and his sister is now a paraplegic? Well that’s awful…ly convenient. And even if it was true, I believe we were taught fraternity, scholarship, then self. In that exact order. Your sister was never going to walk again regardless of whether or not you rushed to her side as she laid motionless in that hospital bed. Not asking a whole lot to at least stop by for “Penny Wars” on the way. I mean, I have Spanish homework I need my girlfriend to do for me, but I was still able to make it this way and throw in a nickel I found on the sidewalk next to the table. So tell me again, who really cares more about this fraternity? You say nickels actually subtract from our total? Well here, take a dollar. What do you mean I’m digging us into a deeper hole? It’s more money. Oh. That’s how penny wars works? I’ll see if Jerry can stop by a bank and grab a few rolls of the copper stuff. Oh, right; his sister. Well then call a pledge. I would, but I don’t have any of their numbers.
Speaking of pledges, guess who isn’t killing any this semester? Bingo. Suddenly my total lack of interest in the new kids potentially saved both pledge lives and our charter. Yeah, you’re welcome, guys.
What more could you honestly want from a guy that’s already done a significant amount for the fraternity? Becoming the apathetic asshole senior brother is everything you should aspire to be. You’ve paid your dues both figuratively and literally, learned to cut down and combat bullshit that doesn’t matter — conserving countless precious hours for every member in your chapter — and are one of the few non-liabilities that exec board doesn’t have to worry about. If that’s not brother of the year worthy, I don’t know what is. Not that you’d give a shit. That plaque’s going in the trash the second you graduate..