Guest column: Paying attention to the manual

Reading the packet you get at orientation is probably a lot like reading a manual you get the first day on a new job: It's full of background information that you will probably never use and stuff that you will probably forget two weeks from now (or, for some of you, tonight at Thirsty Turtle). Or so I thought.

You see, despite having graduated from this esteemed university, I barely read any of those orientation materials four long years ago. I just wanted my "free" T-shirts.

Until now. A few days ago, when I was home, I found my orientation folder — the one with the picturesque images on the front — in pristine condition. It was sitting on the floor of my room in the same spot it was placed on that hot July day back in 2006.

After contemplating what to do with it, I decided to open it and take a look through it. Right now. As I'm typing this.

The first thing I see as I open the folder is the "Reminders for Orientation" page that I apparently printed out on July 19, 2006. Not surprisingly, the "program fees" are right at the top of the page. Some things never change. But at least I got my shirts.

What I've learned: You're paying a lot of money to be here (at the very least, your parents are paying a lot of money for you to be here) for the next four to six years. Get your money's worth — by securing as many free shirts as possible.

As I continue flipping through the voluminous folder, I get to the unnecessarily long-titled page, "Division of Letters & Sciences Orientation Advising Record." Despite the fact I will (hopefully) be receiving my degree in the mail very soon, I still can't understand this document. I mean, between the HLs, the LLs, the HAs, the HOs, the SBs and the IEs, who has time to translate all these acronyms? I remember a few days after orientation, I wanted to e-mail my adviser a question. But I never caught her name and never saw her again. That was that.

What I've learned: Take everything your adviser tells you with a grain of salt. Or else you might end up on the six-year plan.

Four years later, the most important thing I have learned is to never pass up an opportunity. For example, look at this column. When I was asked if I wanted to write one for this week's paper, I said yes, even though I had absolutely no idea how I was going to write 479 words (or whatever it ends up being after editing) when I couldn't even think of a good idea. I mean, I still can't think of a good idea.

What I've learned: It's what they don't tell you that really counts. Now, hopefully, I'll get to read that new job manual soon.

Joel Cohen graduated in May with a degree and government and politics and is a former Diamondback columnist. He can be reached at JoelDCohen at gmail dot com.