It has been one crazy, careening out of control, flying off-the-tracks rollercoaster-o-rama around h䮮ihouse. In the past ten days I’ve ranted, raved, laughed, smirked and schmoozed - oh how i’ve schmoozed! I’ve slept in $1,300 seats and bathed in three states. I feel like I’m moving at both one hundred miles an hour, and two, all at the same time.
This is the frantic, last hurrah before grad after all.
The Internship-o-crap has finally wound down - but not because our tyranical bosses have given their blessing. Get this: so we sell like crazy to get this career fair off the ground. Our group of seven has outsold last year’s group of ten interns, and in fact, has had the most sales ever in the history of the event.
You’d think the big bosses would give us a break. I mean, the Super Seven kicked butt and took names, and we did it all for just three paltry credits.
Read: we sold space at the cost of 500 benjamins a pop, but, as we were interns (read: not earning a red cent) the only thing we reaped from this experience was the knowledge that being a sales intern blows goats.
So anyway, we do all this and some of us are whisked up to the mothership, the homebase, under the guise that we will be offered employment, as a reward for all our hard labors.
Long story short, we are lectured for three grueling hours on how to sell the next show. Keep in mind we are seniors. We have about 1.5 weeks left to party and sleep in. We are tired. We are angry. We are *not* offered jobs, and frankly, 0 cents/hour is not enough to keep me a motivated sales woman extraordinaire.
Consequently, a small coup d’e tat is occuring at my intern site. Most of us aren’t showing up anymore, this girl included. Take that intern slavemasters!
And I’m so looking forward to moving to Florida in the fall. I’ve decided that I need to get the heck out of dodge - Virginia’s alright, but palm trees and sunshine are better. And so, after pulling my hair out in frustration over the intern deal, I took a mini-trip to Orlando with Angel this week. We flew free the whole way, even sitting with the aristocrats in first class on the Orlando-Atlanta leg.
In Florida I had some job-search schmoozing, sundress wearing, apartment hunting good times. The anger of internship abated and I was at peace.
Now I’m back. The intern office called Friday - my manager says he’s taking a half day and Happy Easter, I don’t have to come in. It seems the home office took the day, but expected us blacksburgians to keep on truckin. I don’t think so honey.
In conclusion, and to quote the immortal 80’s hair band, Twisted Sister, I would just like to say we’re not gonna take it. No we ‘aint gonna take it.