The Intern's Lament

Big sorries to my two occasional readers for the extended blog silence. Here's the thing: When I get home from a long day of being The Oldest Intern On The Planet all I really want to do is strip down to my skivs and stuff ice cream in my face. Ice cream and the occasional hit of crack. In case you were considering changing careers in mid-life, here are some highlights:

1. You get to share a desk with five other people, many of whom don't mind if they can't read the letters on the keyboard because it's covered with unknown food substance(s).

2. You make less than you did when you were babysitting in 7th grade.

3. You have many people who consider themselves your superior, including the 24-year old kid who just finished grad school but doesn't know what you're talking about when you tell him his ringtone sounds like "Hungry Like the Wolf."

4. You are the designated water cooler bottle-changer.

5. You are the designated photocopier paper-refiller.

6. You think twice before responding to the question "What year did you graduate from college?"

7. You're grateful when one of the other interns sends you Booze Mail on Facebook. This means you're not as unpopular as you thought.

8. You actually know what Facebook is and do most of your communicating on it.

9. When asked to lunch, you decline and explain in an unnecessarily loud voice that you brought your lunch and some "healthy snacks for later!" while holding up your eco-friendly lunch tote.

10. While surfing the `net holding a Wet One(so as not to contract a communicable disease from the mouse) and eating your homemade lunch, you recall using the adjective "creepy" to describe people just like yourself back in your salad days.

Hopefully this sheds some light into my day. Feel free to pity me. Or buy me ice cream.