It’s definitely the least wonderful time of the year, and let me tell you why.
Do you know those Staples commercials that always get shown at the end of the summer with a Dad riding the shopping carts through the store and the kids being all dejected because it’s back to school time? College is the opposite of that. You live with your friends, learn about stuff that you care about, and only talk to your parents when you need something – and they are grateful even for that. It’s dope.
So why am I a pit of despair? Because it just happens to be the heat of summer internship application season and these dorms don’t have air conditioning. I don’t care if that’s corny, it’s true and it fits.
I’ve worked in the food service industry for three summers in a row (including being a waiter while I was abroad – someone tell my parents Australia wasn’t just a vacation) so I’m pretty sure I can handle being an intern. I used to take the subway home with dry, crusted guacamole on my shirt. Do you know what color avocados turn when they oxidize? Do you have any idea what that looks like? And I didn’t even care because I was coming home from a 7-hour shift and I was just glad to be allowed to sit down. I think that makes me qualified to deliver mail and make copies. I shouldn’t be the one filling out these applications; I’m overqualified for any job that doesn’t come with physical abuse. Mental abuse too, if you count the fake poop stains.
I’m an English major, so I’m taking the publishing/copywriting/editorial route with a little bit of marketing peppered in. Applying for these jobs is a numbers game – the more times you cast a line, the better the chance it’ll come back with something flailing around requiring an interview. I don’t know if that’s true or not given that I’ve only been fishing once and it was fly fishing where you don’t have bait you just dangle the line and freak out when you feel a bite but I couldn’t really think of a better analogy so you’re welcome. But like I said I’ve applied to a lot of them with a crisp resume and a manicured writing sample and an arrogant cover letter. Call me?
I’m hurting really bad because I know that when college ends real life isn’t going to wait for me to get acclimated; applying for internships is real life’s foreboding sneer. You can call time out, but of course then you have to pay for grad school. College is the best time of your life, kids, so dig those heels in deep. Wear shoes on your hands if you need to.
On the bright side I heard somewhere that 30 is the new 20. And somewhat related, my mom loves feeding me.