Risk Management is the job that few people in the chapter would actually want, and the ones that do are never the guys you want running it. Any Risk Management chairman in the country can be the buzzkill, but being the guy who simultaneously protects the party and IS the party? That’s a much more difficult job. A job that requires a man with vision, heart, a large stash of high proof alcohol, and some pretty questionable decision-making skills. In short, it requires a badass and a plan. The key is keeping your eye on the prize, where the prize is a party that will cause your school’s Dean of Student Conduct to pop a rage boner after hearing about it, but leave him powerless to stop.
Now you’ve got your goal, and you need your guy. The perfect risk manager is more a creature of myth and legend than man. The stories about him are told, not as factual accounts, but almost as fables. One brother once heard he blacked out, sexed a girl on top of the library, woke up naked and still made it to his 8am class, 10am interview, and 2pm philanthropy event, looking better put together than Romney on the campaign trail. There was photographic evidence, but it’s grainy, like some kind of college Bigfoot. Got your guy in mind now? Good. I love it when a plan comes together.
Your average risk management plan reads like someone took their Business Law book, ran it through a blender, and pasted the little strips back together in a way they thought made sense. It’s enough legalese to make Enron’s defense team give up and head to the bar. This foolproof plan will take the party to 11, while hopefully not taking anyone to jail*.
*Most of these would probably still land you in jail.
1) In anticipation of the cops busting your party, outfit your party team in riot gear. When the cops get there, let them know you’ve already got it under control.
2) Make all your drinks with Everclear and absinthe. The night will end quickly when everyone has drunkenly decided to go home with someone else after the best 45 minutes of their lives.
3) Say it with me: self-extinguishing flammable shots and shooters. Have fire extinguisher pledge on standby, just in case.
4) Throw your social in someone else’s party house, while cleverly disguising your guys as the other chapter. To make it convincing, take their girlfriends as your dates. Be prepared to quickly find exits when someone realizes it’s all a clever ruse.
5) Take that Doomsday Prepper idea and mirror your entire house, so it looks like the trees surrounding your house are throwing some kind of rager. The cops will assume the site is haunted, and never come back.
6) Do a ghostly “Indian Bros and Navahoes” theme and chase the cops off your property Scooby-Doo style. To make this one work, the pledges will need to spend about a month spreading rumors that your house was built on an Indian burial mound.
7) After consulting the treasurer and housing chair, consider turning your frat castle into an ACTUAL castle and declaring it a sovereign nation. Fill the moat with alligators.
8) Create a number of diversionary events around town: pledge dressed like a cat stuck in a tree, the “Frank the Tank” streak to the quad, have some brothers dress up like Death Eaters and interrupt a school Quidditch team match, etc. Local school officials and law enforcement will be too busy to do anything about your social.
9) Upgrade your pledge taxi service to a full-time pledge EMT service. God knows you’ll need them at some point.
The great news is, should any of these backfire, the silver-tongued devil you put in charge of the committee should be able to talk you out of it. I’d be willing to bet my soul on it.