“Ooohh-weee,” said chief of Residential Life, Gary Plumb, “did we make a boo-boo with that last decision. Why…why did we do that again?”
“Because we’re bad at our jobs!” interjected Stanley Fark, a Res Life administrator, who was spinning himself in a chair.
“Yep, yep, yep,” said Plumb, “also, I got a fortune cookie yesterday that said 75 was my lucky number. It also told me that the Chinese word for dog is ‘Gou’, but I haven’t figured out how to turn that into a housing policy yet. Anyway, I liked 75 and I’ve always wanted to create some sort of quota. Other schools have quotas. Why can’t we have quotas!? Isn’t quota a funny word. Q-u-ooo-ta.” Plumb’s eyes twitched wildly.
“So, after we got so much push-back about the cis-gender trans-gender quota, I decided to scrap that policy and come up with a new one. But what new group to make a quota for? The answer is obvious, isn’t it? So obvious! Hahaha. Ob-viiiii-ous.” Plumb shook with excitement.
“I was having a conversation the other day with Professor Temeles, an ecologist in the biology department. He told me he had run some models on this recent campus pink-eye epidemic. He said his models showed we’d experience one of two outcomes: either everyone on campus would die, or, slightly more likely, pink-eye would persist within the campus population at high levels in perpetuity. After he told me that, he drank an entire bottle of red zinfandel in one swig. It was impressive and scary.”
Stanley Fark continued to spin in his chair.
“And that’s when it hit me. Let’s make a ‘students with pink-eye’ quota’. 75% of rooms will be reserved for students with pink-eye. And nobody can get mad and yell at me over that, because pink-eye is the great equalizer. Anybody can get it. Cis or trans, tall or short, black or white, all of our eyes can turn crusty and pink. It’s pretty genius of me, if I do say so myself. Ge-niiiii-ous.”
Fark fell out of his chair and hit his head on a desk.