Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
It’s a disease you survived once before, probably around four years ago.
In polite company it’s referred to as Adult Onset Senioritis. We’re dangerously close to the halfway point in this spring semester, and you elderly and wisest seniors are getting hit with increasingly severe cases.
We can’t really blame you. You did put up with Elon for three and a half years, which is a lot of Smith Jackson and Eric Townsend emails to ignore. You probably spend most of your days in class clenching your jaw, wondering what more Elon could possibly want from you. The answer is (even more of) your money, but we think the staff editorial explains that better than we could, so take a look at that to better prepare yourself for the Elon Days of the future. #ElonDay.
But what could Elon want from you now, when you’re no longer a potential customer and not yet a potential return investment?
Absolutely nothing. You’re washed up. Remember Fellows Weekend last week? And those Phoenix Fridays? And all those campus tours? You’re old news, at least until graduation, when we can all cry over how proud we are of you.
Seniors, you’re getting replaced with newer, shinier versions of you. Just like when you upgrade your phone or delete those middle school Facebook friends, you’ve become out-of-date overnight, even more so if you forgot to reset your clocks this past weekend.
Some day soon, you might find that the only way to recapture some of that collegiate nostalgia will be to throw even more money at the school until the pain goes away. But just like those bright young students replacing you, you in turn will be replacing the last vestiges of the Baby Boomers in the workforce. Lucky you.
Those of you who suffer from apathy, one of the side effects of Adult Onset Senioritis, may look forward to making the transition.
Other symptoms of this particular strain include Facebook stalking your friends, ignoring internship and job deadlines, bouts of existential panic followed by binge-eating Dorito chips and forgetting how to spell your own name.
Others of you suffer from the more nostalgic strain, and you’re probably crying as you read this column — or at least feeling insulted that there’s nothing more you can give to your beloved school.
Look, you’re a lame duck. Or a lame phoenix. Lame squirrel? Whatever you are, it’s time to seek greener pastures, though it’s highly unlikely the next pasture you settle in will be as green as this actual botanical garden. Underclassmen and juniors can, for now, avoid their impending futures by taking a stroll around this beautiful campus.
You don’t have that opportunity because you still need to get a job. Why are you even reading this column? Haven’t you read about the economy these days? Shoo. You should be working on your resume or, more likely, catching up on Netflix while pretending to diversify your portfolio.
Here’s our prescription for all of you, whether you’re hopeless or you don’t care: do it for the Vine. And then, more importantly, do it for yourself. Ace your remaining classes, work hard to find a job you enjoy and do your best to live a fulfilling life. Put yourself first. And drop a great mixtape if you’ve got the chops.