Memory 7

There was a precious area of my life entitled “ResLife”. When you work for ResLife, you work for a family. Simply, you don’t have a choice.

We worked for a Resident Director who was [simply] the cream of the crop, who was [and is] loved and adored by everyone and who played a [huge and significant] role in the people’s lives who worked for her. And although tests have been run as to whether or not she was genetically mutated to be SuperWoman, results have concluded that she is in fact, human. That means that she was also birthed into his world, just like everyone else. That means that one day a year we celebrate what is known as a “birthday” for her. We wanted to make it special.

My co-workers and I were trying to put our heads together. Time was running short. As some of us were standing in a circle, it was as if God dropped down a scroll of “brilliant” between us. We piled in the car to the closest Giant Supermarket. We picked up the most addictive snack in the world {party mix} and scoured the aisles for the other crucial ingredient to make “Operation Birthday” a complete success.  Unfortunately, Giant let us down, not having the needed materials. So into the car we piled again to take the longer trip to WalMart. We bought all the materials and gathered up the rest of our staff in secret location #1. At this location we gave our lungs a workout in blowing up approximately 200 balloons.

Quickly and quietly we piled these 200 balloons into garbage bags and transferred them to their final destination: the office. Now, one of the special things about being a resident director is that you get to live across the hall from your office [meaning, we had to be as quiet and sneaky as possible]. With several rounds of garbage bags and some miracle tape, we were able to completely cover the office in balloons. In the middle of the sea of color we placed the tub of addiction {party mix} along with some personal birthday gifts. We took a quick few moments to pose for pictures, proof of the brilliance, and then we scattered, as to not draw attention to ourselves.

We were happy. She was happy.

And the office smelled like latex for the next seven months.

The end.