INTERN might (fingers crossed) be doing ANOTHER INTERNSHIP starting in February! YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! This time, instead of the sleek modern confines of Big Fancy Publishing House, she would/will be gleefully toiling in the more sedate, polished headquarters of a distinguished old publisher to be referred to henceforth by the code name Venerable McPulitzer.
All has not gone smoothly on INTERN's road to renewed interning. There have been snags. Very telling snags:
After a delightful e-mail repartee with one of the editors at V. McP, a phone interview was arranged for last Friday. INTERN rang up said editor at the appointed time and her extension was answered by a very professional-sounding intern who informed INTERN that the editor (who has this frightening name—something along the lines of "Isadora Sharkskin" but more intimidating) was still in a meeting and would call INTERN back in half an hour.
INTERN waited next to her phone for the next hour, jotting down increasingly paranoid and inane notes-to-self in case she froze up during the phone conversation and forgot who her favorite authors were or why she was interested in Venerable McPulitzer. After an hour and fifteen minutes, INTERN started to get even more anxious, because now it was getting on one o'clock and she had to be at a life drawing gig at one thirty.
So INTERN called again and this time spoke to a different intern, who asked INTERN to hold and assured her that this editor would come to the phone in a minute.
Ten minutes of holding later and INTERN is practically vomiting with nervousness. The intern comes back on the line and tells INTERN to wait for another ten minutes. INTERN yelps that she can't wait another ten minutes! She has to sprint down to this obscure warehouse and pose for a secretive coven of artists and sculptors wearing only a fedora!
The intern does not seem to understand INTERN's predicament, possibly because INTERN is babbling about having to get to her "day job" at an extremely high speed.
Finally, the intern tells INTERN that the editor will be in a meeting all afternoon and to call back on Monday. INTERN hangs up and flees to an afternoon of life-modeling and piano whispering. Groceries get bought.
Now it is Monday and INTERN just received a phone call from yet another intern who spoke as if INTERN had already been accepted for the internship. So was that whole thing with the "interns" and the interminable "meeting" actually some kind of warped interview in itself? Was INTERN being tested for coolness and resolve? Were all those interns actually Isadora Sharkskin herself putting on voices? And if not, when will INTERN speak with the real Isadora Sharkskin?
This internship (IF INDEED INTERN HAS IT) does not start until February. So there are still fifty-odd sleeps until INTERN is back in her element.
In the meantime, INTERN would like to know, from any readers who care to reveal themselves: What is your day job? And, How much do you dig it?