By DANIELLE FOX
On Wednesday, a Washington DC intern arrived at the White House, still drunk from the night before, and announced to the office his love for former Vice Presidential candidate Paul Ryan. The intern then took off on a mission to find the Wisconsin Republican and, along the way, acquired a breakfast burrito, lost a shoe -- and lost his job.
Word broke on Gawker of the drunk, mildly adorable intern after an email retelling the events was forwarded to the online news source. The reaction to the story has not been harsh or overwhelmingly judgmental. Maybe because the Time magazine photos of Ryan pumping iron in a tank top set others' hearts similarly aflame with desire. Maybe, as former interns, the readers were also once there, at the place in one's life where young adult becomes professional young adult and sometimes, the professional part falls by the wayside.
Although I have never lost a shoe or stalked a well-known political figure, my summer as a TIMES NEWS intern has been just as exciting.
While I haven't stumbled upon any breakfast burritos, I have been given my very own timeshare.
In a cubicle.
From 4 a.m. to 8 a.m., my cubicle is occupied by the employee who the desk rightfully belongs to. I arrive at 8 a.m. and take over, assuming my perch upon the swivel chair for my share of the day.
I have never shown up to work drunk, but I do drink three cups of coffee before ever stepping foot into the office. So, if there was someone I wanted to stalk, I'd have the energy to give a worthwhile pursuit.
My time-shared cubicle is located in the magical land of the newsroom. This is a place where the sighs are not relaxed; they are exasperated. Yet, usually good-humored, too.
I have found that the people who spend their days reading, writing and reporting on the often horrible events of the world tend to have the best senses of humor.
"Can I do my 'Where We Live' on interns?," I asked Karen Cimms, Lifestyles editor.
"As long as you talk about how wonderful I was and how I taught you everything," she replies.
Before my internship, I had never even stepped into a professional office other than my father's business. My only work experience was my time spent working at an ice cream shop. Admittedly, my one act of high school, teenage rebellion was lying about the job study I was supposed to complete, and spending the day on my couch instead of in an office (still, no regrets).
Working as a TIMES NEWS intern has bestowed in me the love for professional world that my job shadow was probably supposed to accomplish. It has also made me appreciate the area I report on. I think the teenage mantra of "I'm leaving this place and never coming back" wouldn't be as high-sung if more teens picked up their local paper.
Nice people live here. There is more to do than drive around. I know this now firsthand.
Leaving my internship, I take with me working experiences I never dreamed I would have as a 19-year-old. I also take with me the memory of one of my coworkers running around the office, clutching a pinwheel. I haven't decide which of the two I value more.
To the TIMES NEWS, I say a sad goodbye. To the fellow interns of the world: a one-shoed salute.