Keeping the Wolves at Bay

The click clack of high heels is almost always accompanied by feelings of professionalism and the general notion that you're going somewhere in life (this works both literally and metaphorically). And while the snappy rhythm of a pair of peep toe pumps on pavement can make heading into a corporate office slightly less daunting, they can also draw the attention of several hungry looking construction workers from across the street. Thus, begins the pros and cons to being an intern.

Responsibilities include: stuffing envelopes, avoiding the temptation of Facebook during long awkward breaks of not having any work to do, stuffing envelopes, having to hum the ABC's to in order to alphabetize files, stuffing envelopes, random intense assignments that require the intellect of Einstein, going on Starbucks runs for the entire marketing department, and stuffing some more envelopes.

Speaking of Starbucks runs, on my last mission I was sent out in a torrential downpour that I'm sure could have rivaled The Great Flood. In the process I may have ruined my suede Steve Maddens, had mascara streaming down my cheeks, and looked like I'd jumped in a river, but I'll be darned If I didn't pack those coffees like infants in car seats on the way back to the office. What's the number one way to never get hired? Spill your supervisor's coffee. I wasn't about to let that happen, even if I was donning adorable suede ballet flats. So I ditched the umbrella and opted for a sturdy two hand grasp on my coffee cup carousel and made two trips to ensure no spillage occurred. I really think it's going to pay off.

You see, there is a grand balance to being an intern. You certainly don't want to overstep your bounds, i.e. being too confidant, making better jokes than the boss, but you also don't want to be meek as a mouse, unimpressionable, and assumed incompetent. So my summer internship at Carl's Jr. was spent doing a sort of dance. I leapt and bounded toward opportunities to compliment the work of others, flitted this way and that to avoid overtly outshining a more seasoned employee, and twirled round and round in a dizzy attempt to grasp general office etiquette and the skills necessary to operate a fax machine. Basically humility was the word of day, or summer for that matter.

However sometimes no matter how hard you try to be a polite, inconspicuous individual with an ounce of charisma you draw unwanted attention. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was below 30 and in heels. Either way, there was one creepy guy in particular who frequented my squalor cubicle a few too many times. After he'd asked several stupid questions, made a remark about the "wild" college life he assumed I took part in (skipping class?), there would always be the, hold your breath, horribly slow once over with his beady eyes, just in case I didn't already know that he valued a gander at my legs over any sort of project results I could produce. Gauge my eyes out with paper clips, hole-punch me to death or something! Do all interns under 200 pounds and with fairly clear complexion have to deal with this? Apparently so. In retrospect I realize that coffee runs in the rain and enduring the stares of creepy 40 something year old males are really a sort of mark of passage. Ask any woman in a position of power and she'll most likely inform you that she was, at some point, in a very similar place: scraping for promising employment, learning as you go, and of course, keeping the wolves at bay.