When I first went to college, I went through Rush, against my inclination. After getting through all the (fake) parties and (phony) hoo-ha, they told us all not to go suicide (choosing only one sorority instead of three in order of preference) because if you don't get that choice, then you won't be in a sorority at all. (Horrors!)
I was too young and unsure to go with my gut instinct to only put one (because I only really wanted that one), so on the day of the big REVEAL (I don't remember what they actually called that day) I toddled up to the student union with all the other young hopefuls to find out who wanted me. (This was in the days before the computer, y'all. We had to actually go up to the building and look at a PAPER on a WALL. Old school, yo.)
I got my second choice. Which I didn't want. So there I was, surrounded by squealing, excited, screaming, happy, and did I mention squealing? girls, absolutely gutted. I went home, disappointed, embarrassed, angry, and humiliated. You know, if I'd gone suicide, I would have gotten a call the night before the big results day and could have just stayed home and nursed my humiliation in private.
So thanks for that awesome experience, Greek system at LSU! You rock! No wait, remove r-o and insert s-u. That's it.