======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
What’s up with Risk Managers? Just when a party is starting to get rowdy and someone is about to slide down some stairs on an ironing board, he has to be the guy to ruin everyone’s good time with a cautionary “Maybe this isn’t a good idea…” Sure, the guy has probably saved you from 13 different concussions this semester alone, but you’re in college. This isn’t the time to be smart; this is the time to be drunk and reckless.
It seems like Captain Risk here hates the entire universe and would only find happiness again if a bullet were to end his undue suffering in one redemptive swoop. What’s his problem? Well, guys, it turns out that the life of a risk manager isn’t quite as easy and slapping a few guys with judicial reviews to steer them away from converting the chapter room into an ice skating rink.
These guys have it tough sometimes, and it’s only natural that they hold a little bitterness for the world that has so coldly slapped them aside. Four reasons in particular stand out as shining examples as to why your risk manager most likely hates your guts:
1. Your Secret Facebook Group
While convoluted email listservs were once the norm of fraternal communication, today, most chapter-related announcements occur via Facebook group. And why wouldn’t they? Facebook has dominated our generation into a submission hold harder than a pair of Taiwanese discount tit implants.
The thing people seem to forget these days is that once something goes on the internet, it kind of stays there forever. All it takes is one misplaced login at the library and a single use of the “PrintScreen” button to topple your chapter from campus powerhouse into a national headline-gathering sanction whore.
While Facebook might be the most convenient way to remind your legion of brothers about that fresh Vyvanse ‘script getting restocked, the potential repercussions are enough to make your risk manager want to resign and promptly flee to Belize. Do your house a favor and keep the potentially damning discussions off the grid. Unless the NSA embarks on an anti-hazing smear campaign (wouldn’t surprise me), text messages should work just fine for your petty prescription drug abuse.
2. The Stick Up the Administration’s Ass
If there’s one thing that has always remained constant in fraternity life, it’s the rabid alcoholism that slowly consumes us all. If there are two constants out there, the second would undoubtedly have to be the testicle clamps that campus administration shackles around us year after year. While the ruthless overlords of our respective campuses have always held a bias against the Greeks on campus, it seems that in recent years the severity has taken an extremely concerning turn.
With the modern phenomenon of 24/7 online news, every time a fraternity commits a simple wrist slap-worthy violation, some overzealous news outlet uses the story to conclude that the Greek system is systematically destroying the American college experience.
Seeing these stories, deans and the self-righteous fuckwads of every obscure office on campus come to the natural conclusion that “Those kids = bad,” so “All Greeks = bad.” While the absolute ridiculousness of this line of thinking has been well documented, try to put your risk manager Sperrys on and think of how the ever-looming threat of suspension must feel to him.
The risk manager is the guy who sits in seminar after seminar hearing the various atrocities that go hand-in-hand with hazing, binge drinking, and unprotected sexual encounters (so, basically, all the things we like). At the same time, he’s regularly reminded that it’s his ass on the line if anyone slips up. If your entire responsibility revolved around getting regularly castrated by the university powers that be, chances are you’d be pretty pissed off, too.
3. Your Relationship With the Neighbor Fraternity
From the moment the number of fraternities in our world increased from one to two, neighboring houses have routinely and actively hated the living shit out of one another. While there may not be any reason better than “those guys are fucking assholes,” it seems these rivalries will exist from now until long after each of us has choked down our last Everclear shot in visible disgust.
While the empty bottles and random flaming objects sent forth to the opposing yards may seem like harmless enough gestures, risk managers are programmed to conceive every worst case scenario. What if a shard from a Captain Morgan bottle slit one of their pledge’s throats? What if you accidentally burned your rival’s house down? While a normal fraternity member would think, “That would be fucking awesome!” the risk manager is forced to ponder what it would be like to spend the next 20 years in a cell with a guy named D-Cock.
When you combine this fact with the hard-on administration has for fraternal convictions, chances are your risk guy is gonna try to dispel every cross-fence conflict before it ignites into a hailstorm of glass and regret.
4. Your Complete Lack of Respect
Of all the leadership positions in your house, the one with the least favorable respect-to-importance ratio has to be the risk manager. While people might dislike a president or house manager for the duties their titles entail, the risk manager is all too commonly known as the anti-fun brigade.
Seems unfair, right? After all, this is the only guy making sure your house doesn’t implode into a drug-laden cesspool. If it wasn’t for him, there wouldn’t be any fun to begin with.
The real problem here is this: unless a risk manager is doing an extremely shitty job, he should seem like the guy who wants to ruin your fun. After all, we are a group of drunken, irresponsible maniacs who routinely shovel enough poisons into our bodies to drown a full grown elephant seal. So, next time your risk manager wags his finger and decides that “you’ve had enough,” remember how tough his job really is. Then give him the finger, because fuck that guy — I thought this was America.