UGAs Not Thrilled with Life Choices

A new survey of Undergraduate Advisors at Dartmouth College reveals that most are not thrilled with the life choices that led them to become UGAs.

“I was a babysitter in high school, so I figured I would be a great UGA,” said Emmy Donovan, ‘21, whose eyes showed no trace of the bright spark they had just months ago when she started her job as the UGA of Bissell 2. “But my residents are nothing like the four toddlers I used to babysit for. They’re so much worse. I don’t think there’s a single square foot left in Bissell that a drunk ‘22 hasn’t pissed or thrown up on. Counting the ceiling. And they leave their trash everywhere – have you ever had to pull a used tampon out of a shower drain?” Emmy let out a broken moan and stared, dead-eyed, into the middle distance. She would not respond to further questions.

Winnie Scofield, ‘20, a UGA for a Living Learning Community, also expressed regret at taking a UGA position. “$2000 in a term is not nearly enough for the shit I’ve had to deal with,” she said, glancing furtively over her shoulder to make sure her residents weren’t nearby. “I figured living in McLaughlin would be nice. But the number of times I’ve heard my residents having sex – I mean, these kids just don’t give a shit! The shower, the bathroom, the common room, the middle of the hallway, outside in the snow. Once I walked in on four of my residents at once doing some really kinky shit. They didn’t even stop when I walked in.” She paused, face slack with horror at the pain she’d endured. All hope had clearly left her long ago. “It was my room.”

While Dartmouth College officials assured students that UGAs are fairly compensated for their work and that the leadership experience they develop is invaluable, Nate Bartlett, ‘20, UGA of basement of South Fayerweather, begged to differ. Bartlett’s interview was conducted outside, given that the entirety of South Fayerweather was on fire.

“Yeah, this happens pretty regularly,” he said, robotic and emotionless, gesturing at the flames. “At least it’s an alternative to wading through pools of lube and vomit.” Behind him, his residents lit joints and tossed empty Keystone cans into the flaming rubble of the Fays, screaming for anarchy and laughing like wild hyenas. “Do I wish I’d never become a UGA? Obviously. If I could delete those three letters from the alphabet, believe me, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Nate could not be reached for further comment, although eyewitnesses report seeing him down eleven shots of vodka in a row before curling into a ball and sobbing.

– GG ’22