I find myself sitting in a squishy rolly contraption that resembles more of a throne than an office desk chair, but I’m feeling far from royal. First day at this internship, and I’m already wondering what the hell I was thinking signing up for such summer suicide.
Granted, for someone on the outside looking in, I had it made, and I’ll even admit I was super psyched when I first got the internship. Who wouldn’t want to work for a famous three-letter music television channel? As a silly little girl from Maryland whose favorite pastimes included uh, watching tumbleweeds blow and working at the local Dairy Queen (stop laughing), this internship was huge.
Having just finished my first year of college, (and mind you, worked my ass off) I was finally going to live in the big city free of parents, midterms, and tumbleweeds.
But now, here I was, first day and I already wanted to run back to mommy and maybe dip a cone or two. It was only eleven AM and my feet ached from running all over Manhattan fetching scones from this coffee shop and soy milk lattes from that café. I looked down at my Jessica Simpson gold pumps (on sale via Macy’s) which no longer seemed so posh next to the other intern’s (Sasha? Or maybe it was Sara’s?) Manolo Blahniks.
What had I gotten myself into? Things could not get any worse.
“Selma?” I looked up. Karen, the woman in charge of wardrobe was sneering down at me. “Uh, it’s Solmaaz…like Soul-ma-”
“Right, Selma we’re going to need you to pick up some dry cleaning.” It took everything in me to not roll my eyes. I’d obviously spoken too soon.
The internship all my friends had gushed over in glee, exclaiming that I’d meet this actor and that beautiful singer, that I’d finally get to meet James Franco, and that I’d end up in headlines: “Franco elopes with television intern during commercial break.” Yeah, that internship was a hoax. But I should’ve known. Why would such a famous successful company give a little awkward pigeon-toed girl a chance?
All I am to them is one less name on the payroll, a servant, a fool, a- “SELMA!” Gotta go. I’ll keep you posted, the dry cleaning awaits.