A Horse Head for Christmas

One of the worst things about internships is that you have to be overly excited about everything.

• I would be so honored to run last week's data!

• Are you kidding? Checking time code is absolutely my favorite thing to do.

• I think this is a totally great experience and I am learning like amazing life lessons every morning--and yes I already bought forty 2 cent postage stamps.

Basically imagine every day is Christmas and you keep getting a package of Hanes accessorized with a roll of pennies from Grandmama.

I was thinking about this when I went to the Scope Art Fair and saw a ginormous Horse Head on the ground with a skinny arm poking out from under the mane. The arm then proceeded to slowly brush the mane--the girl, to whom I'm assuming the arm was attached, must have been crammed into a space with the volume of your average paper box.

I imagined her day might have gone something like this:

Artist: Hey do you mind being working at that art fair?

Intern: Oh my God! I would totally love to--it's totally a dream of mine.

Artist: Great! (Pulls out scary head from behind immaculate white desk) So here's the horse head.

Intern (still smiling): Oh, so this is the...Great! Uh yeah this is definitely a dream of mine.

Artist: Oh fabulous! Now your best bet is to keep your knees under you. I love you in this--are you ok in there?

Intern: Oh yeah there is plenty of leg room.

Artist: You don't mind do you?

Intern (crying silently): Oh NO! I mean this is a Kansasian's dream come true. I totally feel like Charlotte in Sex and City. Yeah love it.

Errands

I should hate running errands at work. It's demeaning gopher work not worth the subway fare or brain power of someone who graduated ON TIME with TWO majors. (Yep I'm awesome...it's not like those majors were related or anything)

But I love errands. I swear when I walk outside everything turns into technicolor. Which makes me think that American offices might cause blindness.

But the best part about running errands is I kind of do whatever I want. If my boss doesn't look appropriately apologetic about turning me into a postwoman (postlady?), I just go online shopping at the Apple store or hang out at the "Women's Interest" section at Border's or buy a nutella crepe. The best thing to do is wander into a Sephora and puting on all the make-up I couldn't be bothered with at 8am.

Although I don't recommend trying one of those weird lip "plumpers." I tried one once and couldn't talk without prying my mouth apart all afternoon. Gross. Also it kind of ruined my cover that the F train stopped for like ever because I think they totally found a rat king--for reals.

Undead Gummi bears and NPR Music

Currently my internship does not require me to stay all day. I do my data entry/research and then go. Which would be wonderful except that I get paid hourly. A banner day is a 10 to 4 block of electronic filing on the company database. woooo.

A full paragraph about work would be unnecessary and about as exciting as the phrase "electronic filing on the company database."

Instead I give you my day in with bullet points. Bullets--excitement!

• 10-10:15 Banter with boss about family vacation. Stay until there is a pause and he is forced to awkwardly send me out of the office so I can actually do the work I'm supposed to.
  
• 10:15-10:30 Untangle headphones from bottom of purse.
• 10:30-11:30 Gawker.com
• 11:30-11:31 Open company database page.
  
• 11:32-12:32 Make a play list on NPR.org/music and feel superior to the co-workers who get paid salary and have a dental plan.
• 12:32-12:55 Run out to over priced cafe and get the cheapest smallest plain coffee. See some scattered gummi bears on the sidewalk that are so dirty even the pigeons don't want them.
• 12:55-1:00 Get irrationally angry that the pigeons were so uppity about something as awesome as gummi bears, even though they did kind of look like undead bears.
• 1:00-2:00 Stare at database while listening to new playlist and pondering how zombie gummi bears would act and what would happen if they were eaten.
• 2:00-2:30 Enter data and send it to boss.
  
• 2:30-3:00 Decide to grow hair out so it looks like Kate Nash's, but vow never to wear anything that is a weird boob seperator.

Why the Hold Button is like Calculus

You know how everyone born post 1980 knows so much about electronics that we can all hot wire an ATM into an IPod touch?

True.

However, I have no clue how to work the average office phone. Yeah I understand what the hold button does and what happens when you press it. But do I press it again take someone off of hold or press Line 2 then the hold button? Last time I had to finagle with a phone I was an intern at TV Land where I spent most of my time chewing my hair while on facebook. At the end of the first month, I had used the phone a total of four times to confirm meetings. I was so nervous I would write out my all three sentences for each call beforehand. If some half broken glass pane was animated and kind of girly that would be what I sounded like. Also everything end up as a question even "Hello this is Jill?"

Then one day the assistant to the president of TV Land tells me she has a dentist appointment. She sat me behind her beast of a desk and it was like being in a colorful faux cockpit of plane.

This is what I can recollect of the phone directions:

"If phone rings twice but the black arrow is blinking someone is still calling. If it rings once and it isn't blinking Larry's got it and don't pick it up or you will interrupt their phone call. Sometimes it will ring continuously--pick that up right away. If it rings at 17.5 second intervals it means the phone is about to self destruct so back away slowly. There are two lines so if you're talking to someone already and someone calls then the phone will ring only once then start blinking. WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T HANG UP ON (Insert absurdly important person here but not quite Sumner Redstone)--it doesn't matter unless you hang up on Mr. X."

Two hours of girly glass breaking voice later I manage to do everything right except that I hung up on Mr. X. Or actually I never answered, I thought the president had answered and unsure of what to do. I remember sitting there watching the little arrow for about thirty seconds then thinking SHIT.

The assistant came back with one of those serial killer smiles and I hid her letter opener.

"We have a problem--you hung up on Mr. X. Now if you were on a call and the other line was blinking it is ok--because how could you know he was calling. But otherwise..."

"Yeah he was on with someone already and then some girl and wanted to me to confirm the bagel order for the two o'clock meeting?"

So now the hold button scares me--if I can write boobs on a Graphing calculator it shouldn't be this hard to answer a phone.