Your Time Has Come My Friend

One of my close friends is living the life all hall directors dream about on our darkest days: living off-campus, paying rent, and commuting. He is working in Student Activities at a local community college. He took the position, because he was burnt out and wanted nothing to do with Residential Life. Sadly, his new job works closely with the Director of Residential Life (hereafter known as Igor)—that dude needs to have things his way or else. Plus, the Dean of Students is a former-ResLifer and is in love with the Director, so Igor can do no wrong.

Igor is a typical live-in professional past his prime. He has three kids: 5, 7, and 12. He has been divorced since 2003. He is more than twice the age of his oldest residents. It’s time for Igor to find another job or another position in Residential Life. Yet, he refuses. Instead, he demands every department on the small campus bend to his will without an ounce of compromise. Igor continuously forces his expectations onto others, all with the help of his buddy: The Dean of Students—a perpetual resident himself.

Since my Twitter account’s inception, I have received comments that I should either stop complaining or leave the field. Well, that is exactly what I am trying to do. The last thing I want to do is end up like Igor: bitter, unfulfilled, and stuck. Because, let’s be honest, Igor is not sticking around as Director of Residential Life for the love of the job. He is sticking around, because he has lived-on for so long and has done so little in way of professional development that he is stuck. His resume is stale, his attitude is piss-poor, and any HR manager will seriously question why he has not move onto a more challenging position.

So, for my detractors, I am leaving the field as soon as I can find another job. However, I have a personal deadline as to when I leave—job or not. The last thing I want to become is an Igor-clone. Sir, it is time for you to leave.