One more gripe about Residence Life

By Kelly Finlan
September 26, 2002

Clearly I missed the memo telling me, as well as every other Cabrini upper-classman, that I am totally unemployable. No one with any occupational status could possibly lug a person’s entire life up stairs into half a room with a foot and a half of closet space. Apparently the entire campus knew, but I was left entirely in the dark, yet again. Leave it to Residence Life to degrade the entire student body in one foul move-in date.

I think there was a meeting. The topic: how can we conceivably inconvenience as many people as possible? And the answer was simple – move in on Monday. What an enlightened and completely accommodating conclusion.

Let’s discuss where this left me, shall we?

Not only do both of my parents work, but they have very demanding jobs with personal days at gun point only. This leaves little hope for the student with no personal transportation, which, at the time, I was lacking.

As the concerned co-ed, I called the office of Residence Life, hoping to be allowed to move in on Sunday, an unprecedented 24 hours before the general public. I explained my situation to the attentive ear of whoever would listen, and, to my chagrin, I was denied the necessary exception. They claimed there would be no one in the house to open the door, though there were various student athletes, ambassadors, a Resident Assistant, and a co-facilitator already residing within the locked house.

They suggested moving in at night, with my parents’ assistance, after their regular workday. This would be optimal, except for the fact that I would be moving in at approximately 11 p.m., and I would be missing my first Monday night class.

After a bit of prodding, some pleading and a lot of crying, I pried the car keys from the white-knuckled hands of my people and drove myself to school Monday morning, having accomplished nothing with my diplomatic niceties over the phone.

This left poor, weak and defenseless Kelly to move hundreds of pounds of dorm room crap up a long driveway and a flight of stairs alone. Delightful. I especially liked when I had to carry my refrigerator upstairs; I could really feel the burn.

How, exactly, is one to establish a working relationship with a department that is so flagrantly unconcerned for the needs and responsibilities of those for whom they work?

I have a hard time believing anyone in Residence Life, save RA’s and the occasional RD, has ever set foot inside a dormitory. Clearly their pampered derri

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Kelly Finlan

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