“I don’t have an internship yet.”
I think the ‘yet’ was the hardest thing to explain to my friends and family. They didn’t quite understand how I was going to get an internship when we were already two weeks into the semester, and I hadn’t heard back about the applications that I had sent in.
The thing was that I wasn’t going to let another semester pass me by without getting some real-world experience. I loved what I was learning in class, but it was finally time for me to apply it to something bigger.
But as February rolled around, prospects looked grim. I had waited too long to hear back from one potential employer, and now many places had already filled their intern positions for the semester.
Then, I got an email.
The message was from Diane Snyder who works in the Communication Services department of Erie 1 BOCES, asking me to call in to set up an interview time for an intern position that they had open. I was ecstatic. I called to confirm the interview and then immediately started preparing. In a few days time, I put together a portfolio of the work that I had done, practiced answering interview questions, and bought the perfect pair of cute yet comfortable interview shoes to look the part.
From there on out, things went smoothly. I was hired on as one of their spring interns, the openings in my schedule just so happened to be exactly when they needed me, and they were looking for someone who would do a lot of writing.
They weren’t kidding when they said a lot of writing.
On my first day, I had two story assignments and a larger project in the works. On the second day, I had two more stories added on. The next week, the larger project developed into eight stories, and I couldn’t be happier.
To me, more writing means more experience, and more experience means more pieces to put into my portfolio which makes me a more desirable employee.
So as I sit at the grey desk that I share with the two other interns, I barely notice the silver laptop, the black computer and phone, or the crazy jumble of cords that connect them. I hardly even notice the bright purple folder with my name neatly typed on the tab, or the pink and orange folders that belong to the other two interns.
I only notice the black keys on my keyboard and the white screen where I have yet another word document pulled up. I zone out of the office and type furiously, not noticing what little noise there is around me.
That is until my supervisor walks out of her office and up to my desk. “Are you in a good place to stop for a second?” She asks, “I have another thing that I want you to look at.”
I smile and nod, because I want to keep doing more. I’m an experience addict.
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