As you likely know, the order of room selection is assigned by a random number generator—typically supplying a relatively fair and unbiased system of distributing housing to upperclassman students. You sign up, you get a number, and you show up at a certain time on April 15 to pick a room out of those remaining. A total of 660 students participated in the lottery; with my luck, I was assigned number 651. This is one of those classic situations where everybody has a chance to get lucky or just land somewhere in the realm of mediocrity, yet nobody considers the possibility that they may get utterly and completely shafted. Typically, a person will receive their number (something moderate, like 200-300), and say “Damn! I wanted #1! But at least I’m not that loser who came in last!” Well, that is me; I am that guy.

Now, you may think that only leaves me so much room to complain—after all, there are a whopping nine people who are worse off than me. But I’m antisocial and a recluse, I wanted a beautiful little single; all of my friends joined fraternities, leaving me with very few potential roommates. Those other nine students after me likely have friends higher up on the numerical hierarchy that will invite them into whatever awesome room they want in that totally cool building that I’ll never even get a chance to consider. Here’s a fun way to look at it: when I show up at 6:00 pm—the time slot for people with numbers 651+ (that is the cut-off, no kidding)—there will be nine rooms left to choose from at the most, all of them half-occupied doubles with people the other 650 students wanted to avoid rooming with.