I’m currently writing this as I sit at the help desk. It’s roughly 3 a.m., and I can no longer count the cups of coffee I’ve had today on one hand: this is the thesis of my RA life. If you’ve used blue tape as a fashion accessory, if a duty phone causes you more panic than a horror movie and if you have done more ice-breakers than you care to remember, congrats on having the worst job ever.

From the very first day of my first semester of my first college experience when I met my very first RA, I knew it: I wanted to be one of the coolest kids on campus and be a resident assistant. Of course, I later learned that being the RA was not a guarantee of “coolness,” but rather the stigma I’d never be able to shake, but we’ll get there, don’t you worry.

I personally didn’t become an RA to make friends, and I knew confronting kids my age or older my first year would be a challenge, and secure my position as “resident a-hole.” Your residents and your fellow RA’s will avoid you like the plague and any chance of a social life vanishes as soon as you sign the contract — it’s almost like signing away your soul, well, actually it’s just like that.

Your friends get off work after six or eight hours, but your door is knocked on 24/7, and that one resident will continue to come to your room all hours of the night and weekend to get advice on their life and life choices. Basically, you are no longer a human, you’re an RA machine.

More than all of these things, more than the late nights with UPD and medics, more than the mandatory staff fun and the programs, there is one thing that being an RA did that ruined me: it made me actually care.

I don’t “bust” you because it’s fun. I don’t get a thrill out of calling UPD or a medic to pump your stomach because you had too much fun on a Tuesday. When I close your door that’s open at 2 a.m. and tell you to be quiet while doing my rounds it’s not because I love being the bad guy. I do all these things — and more — because I genuinely care.

I decided my freshman year to be an RA because I wanted to be the RA I never had and make the hardest part of someone’s life a little easier. I never expected that working for residence life would actually change me into a more empathetic and compassionate person.

In my time as an RA, I’ve seen people at their lowest points, suffering from the consequences of poor decisions and struggling to find themselves while also trying to get through the most rigorous academic and personal challenges. As much as I’ve learned a lot, I’ve actually become a better person for the “worst” job out there.