Assuming someone will be taking the mantle of the public intern position once I leave for South Africa, I thought it would be important to leave this columnist with a couple criticisms of the position, and some kernels of knowledge I’ve picked up on the job.

To be the public intern is to be the public’s darling! No one will ever hate you because hey, you’re at the bottom rung of the newspaper (you’re a bottom-feeder), you’re not stepping on anyone’s toes and you’re fucking helping people. Even the people who sorta like you or are on the fence about liking you (maybe happiness threatens them) will falsely remember liking you after all of their friends talk about how much they like you.

People will pretend to be mean to you and they’ll think it’s hilarious. You will be on assignments and people will say things like “Stop playing around!” in a faux-angry tone and you will groan at this person for trying (and failing) at pretending to be mad at you.

You will have to fake enthusiasm for things you don’t like so you won’t hurt other people’s feelings. If you’re helping a vet pop anal sacs, you can’t be too disparaging about the task because hey, vets do that shit every day and who are you to say it’s awful and it’s disgusting and you’re in a different kind of hell just watching the procedure from afar. Keep all those thoughts flying in your head and get ‘em down on paper later.

People will watch their words around you, sometimes painfully so. There will be a thin layer of artifice surrounding many interactions. This may depress you. I imagine it depresses many journalists. If you were a journalist you could commiserate with them….but you’re not one. This may also depress you.

You will be a mini-celebrity. It doesn’t matter that you ate a Weight Watchers TV dinner last night and watched Mame with your parents. The world doesn’t care. Actually, they may come to think Mame and Weight Watchers are totally en vogue beause a mini-celebrity likes them.

Everyone will ask you how you got your job. You’re going to need to come up with something catchy and cute to say. I always froze up and said something stupid like “blow jobs” or “sexual favors”….don’t try to be Erin Brokovich.

People will also ask you what its like working with Dan. Tell ‘em the truth: you have no idea. Never met the guy. Heard he was cool. Don’t tell ‘em what I tell ‘em: that you’ve idolized him from afar ever since you were 16 and this whole internship thing has been kind of a let down because you envisioned an elevator moment where he would pat you on the head after a particularly hard day at work and say “you did good kid, you did good” and you’d suddenly feel like all he gay stars had aligned in the universe and you had acquired total and complete self-acceptance. This moment will never happen….but Dan may tell you your piece on squeezing dog’s anal glands is “brilliant.” Savor this. Let it melt in your mouth. Slowly. For days. Remember the word “brilliant” and remind yourself Dan thinks of you this way at bus stops, when you’re eating alone in restaurants, and when you’re riding in the car with your mom and she’s listening to “Christmas in the Northwest” on Warm 106.9.

Do not sit and wait for comments to build up on your Slog post. The comments will never be constructive. They will never help you become a better writer.

Better yet, don’t even read the Slog. There is no knowledge to attain from it. It is a life-drainer.

Love,
Steven