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After four wild years in high school I’d already had enough of partying, immature boys and sexual experimentation. I decided not to go to college, where so many confused teenagers go to “find themselves”, because I’d already sewn my wild oats, so to speak. I knew that there was more to life than getting drunk, and my sexual preference tended towards older partners (men and women) rather than teenage frat boys. Also, I was anxious to get out in the real world and make a little cash. Four years and a string of shitty jobs later, I realized that college had more to offer than sex and partying. I needed a degree! So, at 22, I went back to school for graphic design. I felt that I was too old to be living in the dorms with a bunch of 18 year olds, and I couldn’t afford an apartment, so for two years I lived at my parent’s house and commuted an hour each way to school every day. All the driving and traffic started to really make me crazy, so for my junior year I decided I needed to live closer to campus. Since I still couldn’t afford an apartment, I looked into becoming a Residence Assistant in the dorms. Each floor in the dorm had one R.A. that lived on the hall and was in charge of making sure all the drunken co-eds weren’t running around burning down the school. They also acted as moderators for disputes between roommates and were supposed to be a friendly ear to help the students with any other problems. They got their room and meals for free, and even got a small paycheck. The best part was that they didn’t have to share their tiny dorm room with a roommate—each R.A. got his/her own room. I applied for the position and a few weeks later the Dean of Student Housing called me up and told me ...

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