So, a few weeks ago I began my first internship. Truthishly (hopefully you’ve seen the Family Guy episode where this word originated, otherwise I just look like an illiterate idiot – which I’m not, I promise.) I’ve never been an intern, so I had absoltely no idea what to expect. Would I be getting coffee all day? Expected to contribute in meetings and generate new ideas? I guess I’ve seen one too many movies with interns to hold any sort of stable concept of what one should do. As it turns out, I’ve landed somewhere in the middle. I work for a television station in Chicago (the Nation’s third-largest market, I’ve been told repeatedly) for both Programming and Promotions. On most days. I’m fiddling with schedules and listings, poring over ratings and making sure we haven’t violated some horrifically-complicated syndication contract.  I’ve never been asked to fetch coffee (or file anything, praise Jesus), no one has ever given me his/her lunch order, everyone’s remembered my name, and no one’s referred to me as “the intern.” I’m simply Mykal, which is always nice.

Sadly, because I work in television, THE ECONOMY is an overbearing presence in my office. One of my favorite co-workers was recently laid off. (Not to mention, I now complete most of her duties). A slew of people in the newsroom and production were recently laid-off, as well; The office’s already-low morale has dropped even further. What I’m told was once a lively and bustling little community of co-workers is kind of dreary and quiet. My manager has taken an instant liking to me, and she shares with me the sordid office gossip that you just know a dramawhore such as myself lives off of. So that’s an obvious plus. Mostly, though, I enjoy being able to walk in the studio whenever I please, take a gander at the newsroom, take a gawk and whomever’s appearing on the news that morning. The perks, while they may seem small to you, send me into a tiny fit of excitement. Mainly because it makes me feel special.

Coupled with this most pleasant job, is a job that pays in cash money, as opposed to academic credit hours. For the third consecutive summer, I find myself empoyed by the Goodwill. It isn’t that I hate my job, or anything. I just don’t enjoy going. The customers are rude. Management displays heinous and blatant favoritism – which usually isn’t a problem, except one assistant manager doesn’t like me. 90% of my co-workers are apathetic and I end up working harder to balance them out. It’s just a shitty place to be employed. I think I applied at every retailer in my area, and NO ONE called me back. Asshelmets. I guess I should be glad to have a job, right? I guess.