Now, I'm not complaining, but my newspaper internship is getting old - fast. The hours aren't bad, and the people are great, but when it's a slow news day, it's a slow news day. I go in and write my briefs and then have the next several hours to waste away. As I am sure many of you are reading this at your own boring internships, let me share with you a typical day at the office.
12:17 p.m. I arrive at the office, all hyped up from the overdose of coffee I ingested to make it through classes. I get my assignment and find an open cubicle. I stomp past all the cleverly decorated and personalized desks, as I am banished to the bland cubicle in the back by the bathrooms.
12:52 p.m. Less than an hour in, and I've finished my story and have absolutely nothing to work on for the next three to four hours. I tell myself I am going to study for an exam or do homework, but if you have read any other column I have ever written, you know this won't happen. I crack open my book to explore the wonders of civil liberties in the WWI era.
12:59 p.m. Well, my attention span is gone and my books are put away. I pull my lunch out of my backpack and begin playing with my food. Today I make little people out of marshmallows and pretzels and make them fight. The army of Chex Mix men is battling the Snyder Pretzel rebel forces for control of the turkey sandwich peninsula. The battle becomes heated when it is discovered there is a home-baked cookie on the line as well.
1:23 p.m. My editor arrives with a new assignment and is not impressed by her 21-year-old intern playing with her food. She hands me a brief sheet and eats one of the Snyder rebels. The Chex army cheers, but their heroine walks away without acknowledging their appreciation. But the joy is short-lived when my tummy rumbles and their forces are devastated. However, the Snyder rebels, turkey peninsula and cookie soon follow them into the deep.
2:03 p.m. Now that I have written another stunning brief that I am sure will captivate audiences nationwide and have eaten my play things for the day, it is time to stare off into space. I find a spot a few feet from me and prepare to nap with my eyes open.
2:45 p.m. Shit, when did the really hot intern enter my glazed-over line of sight? Judging by the creeped out look on his face, I am guessing it has been a while. I give a tentative wave and smile, and his face disappears behind his computer screen. I consider sending him an e-mail, but decide to wait for another day when he doesn't think I have been staring at him and drooling for the past half hour.
3:26 p.m. We're over the halfway point now, and I am getting antsy. When I can't sit still anymore, I go to the bathroom, even though I don't actually have to pee. Grooving to the easy-listening jams on the sound system, I begin dancing in front of the mirror. When I am in the middle of an epic performance of My Heart Will Go On,"" my editor walks in. I wash my hands and scurry out.
3:49 p.m. Oh no - the super awkward photographer is coming over. He wears his shirts unbuttoned far too low, revealing the five chest hairs he is immensely proud of. He is one of those people who invade your personal bubble and refuse to leave. I put up with it until I have to make a very important phone call. I giggle to my own voicemail as he walks away, not wanting to interrupt my interview with Yolanda the pig farmer.
4:30 p.m. With five minutes until my bus arrives, I begin to sneak out of the building. Army crawl down the hallway, tuck-and-roll past the editor's cubicle and jimmy the back door, and I'm home free. Before anyone can make me stay late and lick envelopes, I make my escape. As I make my break, I look back to see the other interns sadly staring out the window, wishing they were as daring and
envelope-free as I. I give them a quick salute as I board my bus. It's just another day at the office.
If you have an internship that leaves you with hours of free time, use it to e-mail Megan at mcorbett2@wisc.edu.
