The Six Stages Of Grief, Bid Day Edition

The Six Stages Of Grief, Bid Day Edition

Bid Day is an overwhelming event. You spend countless hours going over each PNM, ensuring that you will, without a single doubt, have the best pledge class ever. To welcome your babies, you dress up in tutus, bandanas, knee socks, and face paint, screaming chants and songs that can be heard for miles. Oh, and you’re doing all this while ignoring the fact that only two nights ago, your pledge sister raised a con over your rush crush and you threatened to kill her. You also may have only had about 12 hours of sleep the past week, so you don’t know if it’s actual excitement you feel or if you’re just delusional. But, hey, it’s Bid Day!

In order to cope with the experience, I’ve created the Moscato Model, or the Six Stages of Bid Day. Or, EECODA:


Fact: No matter who you are, you wake up the morning of Bid Day with a smile on your face. In a mere few hours, you will welcome new, perfect girls into your perfect sorority. You don your Bid Day apparel, complete with fancy shirts, tutus, and bows, and do everything in your power not to run around your house screaming with excitement. But with this excitement comes a overhanging sense of anxiety. What if your rush crush went to your rival sorority? What if you get no one on your A-List? It’s these small, dark, and unspeakable thoughts that are a thorn in your side when preparing for the day ahead. You see everyone screaming and dancing, but don’t they know that it could all be for nothing?! As the day goes on, the tiny voice saying these sick things becomes smaller and smaller as your sisters’ chants become louder and louder. The moment you have been waiting for during all of recruitment is so close, and the closer to Bid Day you get, the more likely you are to pee yourself from excitement.


You hear your sorority’s name called, and it turns into a mad house. Screaming, running, hugging, crying, laughing–IT’S JUST ALL HAPPENING AT ONCE. You see each of your new members’ bright and shining faces, and in that moment, you are the proudest woman on earth. You and your sisters encircle them and scream your sorority’s chants and songs. This is probably why people relate Greek life to cults, but fuck ‘em. They’ve never experienced this type of joy in their lives, and they probably won’t in their lifetime. Their loss. You march back to your house, singing and chanting with a few “OMYGAWSH THEY’RE ALL SO PERFECT,” while guiding the babies to their new home. As you turn and scan the new girls’ faces, you notice a couple of faces missing, which leads to…


This doesn’t even fully register in your mind until you get back to your house and finally get a good look at all of the new girls. You now recall watching one of your rush crushes running to your rival sorority. That’s the face who you were missing, and you feel the bitter pang of disappointment. What could you have done to ensure her running into your arms? Was she scared off by Melissa’s sarcasm? Did she get grossed out when Courtney sneezed? Maybe it was the lack of snacks–you only offered her food twice, and everyone knows the third time is the charm. You could kick yourself for making such a rookie mistake. Actually, you know who’s fault this was? The fucking recruitment chair’s. You did all you could, and she dropped the ball so hard. Why the fuck did we have green streamers on Thursday? Green isn’t even one of our colors! It doesn’t matter that it was “financial day.” The green confused your rush crush and now she’s wearing the wrong sorority’s letters. That fucking bitch.


Whatever negative feelings you have are quickly washed away (except for the vendetta against your recruitment chair) as you watch the new girls open their presents and put on their bid day shirts. You start taking pictures with all of them, teaching them your hand sign. You dance, you laugh, and you tweet about “the best pledge class evah!!!!!!!!!” You tell everyone you come into contact with how beautiful your new babies are–even people who have no idea who you are–and that by new babies, you mean new members. Not like, actual tiny humans. You immediately friend request all of them, then bombard their walls with “WELCOME TO THE BEST SORORITY EVAH! ___ LOVE!!” along with the rest of your sisters. You smile at the mere thought of them. This obsession can go on for months. I’ve had texts from my sisters literally a month after Bid Day telling me how perfect our babies are.


Or should I say, dirty littling? It’s never too early to mark your territory and claim your little or grandlittle. The early bird gets the perfect little or something like that. This, of course, carries WAY past Bid Day until big/little revelation, but it all starts here. Some examples include taking 500 pictures with a PL (potential little) instead of the usual 400 with the rest of the new girls. There’s no need to be diplomatic anymore, so feel free to spend the majority of Bid Day talking to this girl and making her fall in love with you.


Bid Day usually ends the same way it begins: lying in bed with a giant smile on your face. You’ve accepted that the girl who went to the wrong sorority made the wrong decision, and the fact that she even considered them proved how wrong she was to your sorority. You accept that your recruitment chair may have dropped the ball on something (even if it was as easy as PUTTING UP THE RIGHT GODDAMN STREAMERS), but that she really was a crucial part of getting these amazing girls. You accept the fact your new members are perfect, and that you will probably be obsessed with these girls until you get next year’s new members. And finally, you accept the fact that your sorority is the best sorority. Duh.

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Hakuna Moscato

Hakuna Moscato (@HakunaMoscato) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move. and Post Grad Problems. A born and raised Maryland girl, she's obsessed with the Baltimore Ravens, Old Bay, and anything that has the Maryland flag pattern on it. She's a newly retired student-athlete and sorority girl, but not quite ready to call herself an adult, especially since she still has to be carried out of bars. With a Long Island in hand, she's ready for whatever life is throwing her way. Maybe.

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