by Skimberlych Mae
You’re not a Sillimanianch if you haven’t had the urge to be an org ferson, somehow, you’re bound to become a jack of all trades. Who cares, right? Prioritize it over your academics, “never back down never what?” is the mindset: mind over matter.
Somewhere along the way, being a student became a side quest. The real mission is joining every committee, attending 10 p.m. emergency meetings, and collecting positions like there is an achievement badge for each one.
If you’re ready to put the “BS” in your bachelor’s degree, welcome to the org girly life.
Now you stand at the tall gates, where you must prove your worth. Recruitment szn is supposed to show applicants what membership asks of them, but you’re not applying for an org—you’re auditioning for your next adventure in life. Certain organizations, however, have decided that membership should be earned the hard way.
Are you at the TOP or at the BOTTOM?
The Cuernotch de Negroch Mountainearch Clubch, Inctch. seems to have taken that idea quite literally.
Here, applicants must climb Mount Everest with no equipment. The challenge is simple: reach 8,000 meters above sea level, submit photographic proof, and somehow, finish the hike with their shoes completely clean.
The requirements, however, do not stop at the summit. Applicants must carry a full-size flag to the top, name at least five rocks they encountered on the way, and personally apologize to the mountain for stepping on it. Before descending, they must also leave a handwritten thank-you note for Everest for allowing them to reach the summit in the first place.
“Bwhehehehehehe,” President RAFFLESHIAYYUBNAIJUAIUHUAIKIMNAIUNUA NOTCHETE said. “I think it’s a skill issue for you not to climb to the top, makit an nimo sa imagine mo sakses ka eh, bigla kang sumakses.”
“We want applicants to experience the complete mountain,” NOTCHETE added. “If they can reach the summit and still have clean shoes, we know they are serious.”
Reaching the top may prove that an applicant can survive the climb. But apparently, getting to the summit is only half the battle. The other half is making sure everyone knows where they are supposed to go, because apparently, you cannot conquer Mount Everest and just let people roam around freely.
Even the highest point on Earth needs crowd control.
Sit or Get Sat On
The Loose Auditoriyum Survey Corps of Uhm-Shers (LACU) has apparently decided that knowing the way around the 923-seat, airconditioned facility is not enough. Applicants must prove that they know all admins and their extended families until the 10th generation.
Every velvet chair in the Philippines must then be found and brought to Loose Auditoriyum. Applicants must also inspect their garments for microscopic creases, because LACU believes that wrinkles are rarely accidental.
A suspicious fold may trigger an internal investigation into the applicant’s entire relationship with clothing, forcing them to explain why the fabric has been allowed to develop its own personality.
The final task includes escorting the Queen of the Autonomous Region by piggyback to her royal seat, memorizing the seating arrangement of every chair inside Loose Auditoriyum, and reciting it backwards.
“A good usher should know the NAMES of all the seats,” LACU Vice President – External Aisle Be Derr said. “We simply believe that knowing them requires a little dedication.”
The organization also requires all trainees to bow down to their masters as a sign of respect and superiority. “Respect starts from the neck down,” be Derr said. “That is why we prefer it at a perfect 45-degree angle. Failure to meet this expectation will result in…punishment.”
Because apparently, knowing the seats means knowing the entire social ecosystem attached to them. A chair is never just a chair. It has a rank, a history, and possibly a family tree.
By this point, catching someone eating inside Loose Auditoriyum is one of the few legitimate reasons an usher gets to walk. After standing in the same spot long enough to memorize the seat in front of them, spotting a snack in the audience is basically an invitation to stretch their legs.
Certified Raigebaiter
Some students would rather lower their voices than their heads. The Sillimanch Universitych De-Bait Sussy appears to have noticed.
Applicants are given five minutes to prepare an argument based on Blueddit sources sent in the group chat at 2 a.m.
“The key de-baiting is basically to ragebait the opposing team, and when you are on the verge of losing, then basically bring out the big guns: “According to Bible…” statement, President Clara Fication said.
Applicants must also submit a screenshot proving they won a fan warin a comment section with at least 50 replies, then write a position paper establishing that “it’s giving.”
To complete the process, applicants must go out on campus and ambush someone to debate with under two minutes, and if the opposition begins to speak, one has the power to blurt out “NYEH NYEH NYEH” to gain the upper hand. At De-Bait Sussy, a red receipt has apparently acquired legal standing.
A strong argument is not about being the best; it is about having the loudest voice in the room, dishing the opposition side so that they may never say anything. It’s about being the most obnoxious person in the room. And if worst comes to show that you are losing, then prepare to personally attack your opposition side for plus points. Because apparently, being confidently wrong is better than being quietly correct. And if all else fails, just speak louder because volume is the highest form of rebuttalFake it until you make it!
Mic Drop, Literally
The Sillimanch Universitych League of Hawts (SULOH), also seems to have built its entire recruitment process around the same principle.
Applicants must memorize the pronunciation of every name in the university directory, including those of graduates who have not set foot on campus in decades.
They must also have the ability to perform a cartwheel and immediately say “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” upon landing. “A host has to know how to recover,” SULOH President Adlibeth Bantera said. “Even if the cartwheel was unexpected, the greeting should still sound intentional.”
The applicant must then maintain proper hosting posture while balancing a glass of water on a stack of cue cards. Nothing says stage presence like refusing to spill water while your entire body is questioning the career decision that brought you there.
By the time an applicant reaches the end of these requirements, recruitment no longer feels like a process of finding people who want to join an organization. It feels like a social experiment to determine exactly how much absurdity a student can tolerate before they give up.
Perhaps, that is the real trick of recruitment. The question was never simply what you can bring to the table, but whether you can survive everything standing between you and it.
When the application finally asks what you can bring to the table, after all that, there is really only one answer left: whatever is left of your dignity.
