It’s 2020, and the coronavirus has found a way to wreak havoc and basically derail almost every single functioning aspect in your life in some sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. There is one company, however, that is making the most out of these unprecedented times: Zoom. Zoom is everywhere and now consuming almost everything. But just because they are doing well doesn’t mean that we are doing well. 

For many, zoom has been nothing more than uncomfortable. Students of any age understand this the best. A lot of teachers have been requiring that their students turn their camera on, showing that they are participating. But in reality, this is an unwanted invitation to see how the sausage is made. Some students are rolling out of bed, repping the hornets nest hair and a freshly swollen face. Some people haven’t been outside in a couple days, perhaps they may look pasty, resembling Gollum on these shitty zoom camera screens. Hell, some of these students are actually dealing with the coronavirus, which has proven to be an awful couple of weeks. I don’t know if they just want to broadcast what their life looks like to an entire class. Perhaps teachers may need to pump the brakes with the 1984 Big Brother is always watching strategies, some of us don’t need that kind of press. 

But you don’t know pain until you’ve been in a breakout room. This is a true test of someone’s perseverance and social grit. It’s in these dominions of death that even the strongest social butterflies fly too close to the sun, especially when teachers try to play god and randomize the breakout rooms, putting kids together in groups like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet plate. This only adds to the pain. 

There’s always the inevitable crippling silence at the beginning, where each second feels like an entire minute. It’s in this deathly silence that roles are instantly assumed. It’s always a personal decision, yet everyone is always on the same page who is who. First, there’s the honorable kid, regardless of gender, that tries to break the ice. They try to get the assignment going and hopefully stir up some efficient conversation. This is a vital, yet thankless job. Then you got your kids that just nod and agree, never once conjuring up an original thought. Then of course you got your guy who’s having trouble with his microphone, so his audio sounds like he’s scratching plates in the background. Worthless. Finally, you got your Sorcerer of Smalltalk. This role is VERY different from the first honorable role I mentioned. The honorable role is about being efficient, getting the assignment done, and then calling it. The Sorcerer of Smalltalk comes in AFTER the discussion about the assignment is over. This person is speaking on his or her own free will. 9 times out of 10, it’s usually a guy. Someone should just duct tape this kid to a chair. Sure, they mean well, but I don’t need to hear what he has to say about, “The crazy weather we’ve been having” or “Any big plans this weekend?”. I am not going to give this guy my plans for the weekend. Hell if I do, I might just see him there. God knows there’s nothing else to fucking to do right now. 

I don’t know who is to blame, but some imbecile decided that Zoom should be the standard for all things Greek Life as well, starting with recruitment. My God, I’d rather eat glass then go through another Zoom rush event. Rush in the first place was already a nightmare; all the guys walking around with big eyes and locking you into absolute dull pencil conversations, just so they can become your new friend. I’ve heard nothing but horror stories about sorority recruitment. I feel like at this point that any person who says that they genuinely enjoy rushing kids, whether you are a guy or girl, that person drinks gasoline. Seriously, that person is a psychopath. Rush is the most cringe-worthy and disingenuous social experience there is, and now it’s virtual!  Now we get to experience it with lags, network errors, audio malfunctions, and all the wonderful technical difficulties that zooming with 200 people can offer! 

Not to mention, you might turn away potentially great members and let in a bunch of Ted Bundys. There was already a formula for Potential New Members to have a successful rushing experience, now it becomes a lot easier, as you don’t even have to meet the members in person. A PNM can write up a script and say whatever the hell he or she wants, all while the brothers or sisters have no idea that the PNM is sitting on a bag of dead cats or has another tab open with an order confirmation of a blow up sex doll they just bought. Some people are weird, and usually you can weed them out during rush, but now… the floodgates are open and we’re off to the races. 

You want my advice? Cut your losses and put the future of the house on pause this year. Relax, the legacy will live on. 2020 is a wash, and it sure as hell doesn’t need a representative pledge class. Unless of course you want to see one of your new members you rushed from Zoom be the star in a Netflix Serial Killer documentary down the road.