Greeter: 1: A U.Va. student composed entirely of good will and solid muscle mass; 2: An endless fountain of trivial knowledge about Thomas Jefferson and the University; 3: A source of relief for the Class of 2009 and their families.
As I read this definition on the back of my bright-yellow greeter shirt at 8:30 a.m. on move-in morning, I tried to place myself into one of these categories. Before I came up with an answer, I was assigned to Humphreys dorm to meet and greet the new students, and my grueling two-hour shift began.
Being a greeter was a daunting job: Over 3,000 anxious first years were arriving on Grounds that day and would be assisted by 600 bright-eyed upper classmen wishing to make the new students' move-in day as quick and painless as possible. But the combination of the heat outside and the fact that the first-year dorms have no air-conditioning made the job a challenge, even for us upperclassmen, who were prepared for a heavy load of responsibility.
As I approached the dorm, I was taken back at the number of people swarming around Old Dorms. Everywhere I looked, I saw yellow shirts running in and out of buildings, and I joined the ranks by asking the first family I saw if they needed assistance. When I was told that the television they had was "too heavy for me to carry" and that "they were waiting for one of the male greeters to become available," my goodwill fell down a few notches. However, still determined to make a difference in the life of one first year, I headed on to see if others would give me a chance to show off my "solid muscle mass."
On the first load, I realized that I would have to exclude myself from the second half of category one in the greeters definition. As I was carrying my first load, a stack of water bottles, into the building, I dropped them on their side. Unfortunately, the mother was right behind me at the time, and I was consoled by her words that even dented water bottles taste the same. Determined to be more careful in the future (and incredibly glad that the first family wasn't comfortable with me carrying that television up the stairs), I decided to stick with the lighter objects.
While I realized I was not as strong as I'd like to think, the day grew progressively hotter and the student luggage began to seem larger and larger. I tried to remember if I brought this much with me my first year, and after recalling that I basically packed my entire room up in several suitcases, I sighed deeply and went back to dragging a third load of the same girl's clothing across the quad. In the middle of the grass on one end, the Virginia Gentlemen were giving the first years a preview of their a cappella talent; on the far end, a group of upperclassmen who lived in Old Dorms their first year had set up a volleyball net in hopes of getting individuals who successfully finished moving in to join them. I continued to drag my load (including a rolling suitcase that didn't make it down the steps as easily as I would have hoped) to Hancock.
The distance to take the loads is only part of the difficulty of luggage; the other is the stairs inside the dorms. The thin space is not conducive to the chaos that is moving in, and the tight space becomes smaller as the luggage grows in quantity. I struggled to keep the printer I was carrying stable while sliding past the multitude of individuals going back for more. When you finally do get to the rooms, many of the students are too busy attempting to get to know their new roommates (or attempting to get the best side of the room first) to notice weak greeters like me, desperate to find a place to set down a printer. Not only are the students trying to get used to their new arrangements, but all around, parents are trying to break the ties with their sons and daughters and reassure themselves that independence is a good thing. And, of course, the never-ending questions the concerned parents bombarded me with made me wish that definition number 2 of a greeter pertained to me. As I redirected parents to the RA's (a bottomless source of vital University knowledge), I got back to toting the bags.
By then my two-hour workout was approaching its end, which was good timing considering that my arms were now the equivalent of limp noodles. As I tilted back a water bottle to replenish my depleting energy level, my unsteady hands caused the majority of the water to fall onto my yellow shirt instead of into my mouth. Because the water was free, however, I just grabbed another one until I had a sufficient amount.
Being a greeter is a challenging experience, but the gratitude of the parents and students on one of the most stressful days of their lives is worth the sweat and aching limbs. I guess I'd have to pick part 3 of the greeter definition as the one that best suits me. Without the greeters, McCormick and Alderman Road would have been clogged for much longer than they were, and the first years would still be moving in the next day. But my only relief came when I was back at home, sipping a cool drink on my porch, and getting a much needed back massage for my aching muscles. I decided: new year, new fitness routine to bulk up for next year. Maybe next time I'll be able to handle that television.
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