On joining a fraternity...
So after having considered it for quite a while (since I started college, actually), and at the encouragement of many friends in the organization, I finally pledged to a fraternity. And while not known by Greek letters, per se, I think they may still have the recognition needed to be a worthwhile networking endeavour. Their history is vast, and their membership illustrious. They won't make me wear a stupid wood pledge pendant around campus. They won't paint me gold and make me stomp and chant the fraternity name in front of the Administration building. And best of all? Its membership is made up mostly of older gentlemen, of an era with which I connect much better than my own.
Yes, loyal reading public, yesterday evening I went to Foothill Lodge #305 and turned in my money and paperwork to become a Freemason.
My application will be reviewed next week, and three investigators will be deployed to figure out whether I'm Masonic material. So if you hear a clicking noise when I talk to you on the phone, it's not the government; it's the Masons tapping my phone lines. And if an unmarked white van pulls up next to where we might be talking, and men in their late 50's wearing aprons jump out, chloroform me and drag me into the van, it's probably nothing to worry about.