Memoirs of a Frat Boy: Organizational Culture and Personal Growth

An artistic, intellectual-type friend of mine once asked me of my fraternity experience, "Is that really all you do in a fraternity – get drunk and try to sleep with girls?" I replied without hesitation, "Yeah, pretty much." I didn't see it that way when I was in the fraternity, but they say hindsight is 20-20. We use to talk about scholastics or community service or principles. But as more time passed since college, it became more and more obvious that that was all lip service to justify what we really wanted to be doing – getting drunk and trying to sleep with girls. Seriously, is scholastic achievement really a priority of a fraternity that sees only about half of its members graduate? Or do you really think we enjoyed serving the community of Bel-Ridge? Do I do community service now? Do I do anything to help anybody beside myself? Of course not.

So for a long time after college I began to view the Greek life as nothing more than an efficient way for large groups of college-aged men and women to get wasted and hook up. That is probably still the case, but I've recently realized something else about the whole deal. The realization stemmed from a couple nights with the old crowd – a bachelor party and a wedding. I rarely see my fraternity brothers anymore. The guy I've seen the most in the last year is a guy who has just finished six months in Europe. I don't know how it got that way, but it did. I actually didn't even want to go to this bachelor party despite the fact that the groom was my pledge brother and roommate for a year. Another pledge brother who was throwing the party guilt-tripped me into going. To understand why I didn't want to go, imagine that situation where everybody at the party used to be your best friends that you hung out with every day. But now, five years later, you don't have their phone numbers. And at the end of the night they're not going to ask you for yours. There's just something awkward in the air.

And that something was in the air when I first got there. But that something went away and I had a great time. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. I haven't laughed that hard all night long in an even longer time. I don't even remember what was funny. I do remember when Craig passed out and Miller laid his balls on Craig's forehead while everybody took pictures for the Internet. And I only remember that because there are pictures. The night of the wedding was the same. Ponce was catcalling and howling in the church. Jimmy did 'the kick' while escorting his bridesmaid into the reception. Craig and Henderson took it down to wife-beaters on the dance floor (is this '98 or '08?). I used to be a member of the wife-beater-on-the-dance-floor club, but I didn't have one on. I don't even own one anymore. How did those get phased out of my closet? What the hell happened? Did I sell out? I think my ex-girlfriend probably threw them all out some day when I wasn't home. I really wished I had one on at that moment!

At times over the years, this crowd annoyed me with the catcalling, the whistling, the constant joking, and the complete inability to be quiet for any length of time no matter where we were. I did three years in Corporate America after college. I tried to 'grow up', get serious, be an adult, etc. I used to think 'Why were they so immature and obnoxious'? In order to drive home my upcoming point, I'm going to have to illustrate our chapter's culture. If you weren't in a fraternity, you probably think they are all the same, which is probably true from the big picture. But in the micro-details, the cultures are very different. Keep in mind that our fraternity was far from typical, as was our school. Most Greek systems thrive at huge universities in small towns (Mizzou in Columbia) as opposed to commuter schools in relatively big cities (UMSL in St. Louis). Our situation isn't typical of the vast majority of schools. The house down the street was comprised of the laid-back, pretty boys. If you were nerdy or not good-looking, you didn't have a chance of getting in to that house. The average member of that house probably got laid more often and with hotter women than the average member of our house. The house across the street had more introverted guys. While maybe a little socially awkward, they probably put out the most graduates and achieved students who got, on average, better jobs after college. Our house, I may have implied, was the animal house of obnoxious hoosiers ('hoosier' is STL terminology for white trash). If we have any claim to fame, it would be that we won all the sports and threw the biggest parties. If (when) our house wins Greek Week next year – an annual Olympics between frats – it will be the tenth consecutive title. Concerning parties, the other two houses competed for Saturday night while we monopolized Friday night. I always assumed it was established years ago that, if either house tried to compete with us for turnout on Friday, they knew they would suffer more than if they competed with each other. So the rational decision for them was to share Saturday.

We had a diverse house. Nerds got in. But at the same time, someone with natural charisma wasn't guaranteed a leadership spot. One thing probably unique to our house was the relentless joking, clowning, and teasing. If you were fat, if you were a hoosier who wore jean shorts, if you had a speech impediment, if you wore a Figaro chain, if you were pussy-whipped by your girlfriend, if you acted like a hard ass when drunk, if you were caught reading Harry Potter, or whatever your problem was, you would be made fun of as much as possible for it. Any weakness whatsoever was exploited to the max. Every opportunity was taken advantage of to have a laugh at your expense. No one was spared. Not everybody can do that. Some got in the fraternity but later went their own way because they couldn't hang. If you were insecure or took yourself too seriously, life with this crowd was hell.

I think this is why I had so much fun this time around. Now that I'm NOT trying to grow up and get serious. Now that I'm not employed by a name-brand, blue chip company. Now that I'm a broke-ass server / bartender with no health insurance. Now that I haven't been laid in some months and I get dumped a lot. Now that I drive a '89 Pontiac with over 200K miles and I have to keep jumper cables in the trunk. Now that I have moved back into my parents' house and I turn 29 in March. And most importantly, now that I don't give a fuck what you think about it, bitch.

I come around the old guys with this mentality and they're not just funny. They're real fucking funny. I mean who can resist Ponce or Jimmy? Or Miller when he's in dickhead-mode in a conversation with someone he has just met. He has identified the kryptonite in their self-esteem and has gone for the throat with insults. She'll be crying herself to sleep that night. How can you resist Berra doing party-boy? I don't care what you think is funny. You haven't seen funny until you see a really hairy, fat guy in nothing but a jock strap and bow tie doing bodybuilder poses in the middle of Natural Bridge. And you just can't resist Henderson being Henderson – whatever attention-craving stunt it is that night which will end in hilarity. Whether you're laughing with him or at him, you will be laughing.

Do I even have a realization here? I don't know. I made a lot of great friends and had a lot of fun after my days in college and the fraternity. And I'll still make more friends and have more fun. However, I'm starting to wonder whether I'll ever laugh as hard as I did with those guys. It's a dismal realization for sure. I gotta go. I'm headed to Wal-Mart to pick up a pack of A-shirts (AKA, wifebeaters).