The Career Intern

After blowing too much money and effort purchasing watermark paper and centering my name on a resume that still makes reference to my summer teaching drama at the local JCC, I finally received a call back. The man on the other line was named Paul and I thanked him graciously for his generosity. My nefarious scheme to get the new Belle & Sebastian album before any one else was working according to plan. I packed off tout-de-suite to my new home.

At Matador, most days passed by without event. There was the occasional birthday to lighten up the day with free cake (no one eats the orange tart until that's the only thing left). Every now and then they let you put on a CD. Unfortunately, this privilege is usually accompanied by sighs of disgust or smiles masking thoughts of how young and innocent I must be to listen to that shit.

My favorite part about the experience was the responsibility. I was allowed to sign documents that refer to the signatory as the responsible paying party in the case of a breach of contract. I can only assume that this is valuable training for the future. Other highlights included oiling Accutron 2000, smoking in the packaging department, and pressing the elevator button for important visitors.

However, I would be lying if I said there was no down side. First of all, the elevator sucks. On top of the fact that I always seem to be pushing the button when the elevator is just beginning it's descent from the 11th Floor (We're on the 12th), when I finally catch the lift, that crass fat man from the 6th floor is there to greet me with terrible ethnic jokes. Not that I don't like ethnic jokes, it's just that his are sooooo provincial (know what I'm sayin?). Second, manning the phones at the front desk is impossible. There are too many human variables involved. The first time I met Gerard I was trying to answer three calls at once. At the time I was frantically searching for him on the phone intercom machine something or other so I could transfer a call when I pressed his extension number.

Me: "Gerard?"

Gerard: "I'm standing right in front of you."

I slowly looked up and, true to his work, there he was. My hands turned to liquid and I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.That would have been an awful time to tell him about this band that I'm in. So much for a job after college.

The really hard part about interning is the Intern Initiation Rite which takes place on the last day of July every summer. Each intern is instructed to strip naked and run through the packaging department at a piece of red cloth while using their index fingers as horns. Worst of all, Teenage Fanclub CD's fitted with razor sharp blades are hurled at you without mercy. However, after the blood and tears are washed away and the strange burning sensation from the public branding on the buttocks has passed, you are embraced as a member of this unique family.

Oh, I almost forgot. Lots of great free shit. Tons of it. The only problem is that CD's are hard to digest. But I did manage to grab an advance copy of the new Belle & Sebastian and if that isn't reward enough...I still have $8 a day to live on for the rest of my life.