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Don't Burn, Intern!
HASSLED? Harried? Doing donkeywork, when it was actually supposed to be an `exciting and rewarding' experience? Welcome to the world of Internships. But, I must admit, it was pretty silly of you not to have made the connection - the word `intern' means `imprison'. Now doesn't everything make sense? Save for the bars and the plea to the family and other animals to take up baking (not because you like home made cakes, but to slip in the file!) there aren't very many differences between the two. Similar schedule, backbreaking labour, wicked wardens, horrid fellow prisoners... whew!
For those of you who haven't been through this `rite of passage' when you got into the industry, profession, whatever, let me tell you all about it. Since one usually relates better when there is a human element woven into the script, let's take the dramatic internship of my doppelganger, Aubergina. (Please don't snigger at her quaint name, for remember, it takes all sorts to make the world!) She was, once upon a time a brilliant student being liberally sprinkled with florescent red signs of adolescence, clever and quick-witted, where common sense leaked liberally from both ears, who was lucky to land an internship with a fabulous organisation, known for its fantastic work culture. Or so she was told. And she guilelessly fell for the story.
The reformatory.
With wide-eyed-wonder, she stepped across the threshold of the corporate world. And guess what greeted her? Swanky cells... uhhh - cubicles? The icy blast of the air-conditioner? Or co-workers rubbing their palms menacingly, emitting little yips of joy in high falsettos? Sadly, all of the above. And, she instantly had the antenna fibrillating with nervous trepidation! The antenna business lasted only till the warden (a.k.a. the boss) stomped up, jackboots and all with spurs catching the morning sun, and making lightnings in the air. Our heroine Aubergina found it quite bizarre ... one minute, there is the hand-rubbing- yipping-with-joy taking place the next minute, the bossavian boots clatter onto the wooden floor, it is instantly replaced with pin-drop silence. But poor A, how was she to know that one should recommence breathing only after the boss into his tower went? She took a little intake of breath and the boss raised a stern eyebrow at her! And what an eyebrow! It bristled with unspoken menace, each black follicle wagging admonition and raw terror. Her nightmare commenced!
The gruelling routine
Aubergina also realised `there is no such thing as a free coffee'. Nothing came easy. She had to work three times harder to make half the impression. And guess what she got as appreciation? An eyebrow quiver, and a slight dimming of the sneer - the one reserved for approval; and that's all (She is, now, summa cum laude interpreter of eyebrow athletics, and is into her post-doctoral thesis on the subject). Those gleeful Gollums that masqueraded as co-workers also made a big ceremony of ribbing her. She was either the `baby' of the team, or she was the `green-horn'; but she certainly wasn't quite the best thing that had happened to them. If that didn't make her feel slightly lower than an earthworm's belly, the meetings that were conducted without her insignificant presence certainly did!
The last straw
Aubergina steeled her heart and persevered to preserve her sanity in the corporate Bedlam. But even steel has a melting point. And on her last day, it happened. There was a party hosted in her `honour', where the team underweight asked her an innocuous question. `What's that you're eating?' and looked pointedly at her bowl of ice cream. What could she do but meekly hand over her dessert and watch it vanish with startling rapidity? To add insult to injury, after several renditions of a gastric chorus, the demand was made for her to make a speech. While Aubergina nattered away quite easily and constantly in normal circumstances, after a lunch that left her nerveless and unstrung to be asked to address her tormentors was more than she could bear and wail followed wail as she collapsed into buckets of tears. Needless to say, Aubergina changed her name to Big Bhartha, as she felt totally smoked, squashed and spiced, and looked totally unappetising. So, interning, my friends is not always what career glossies tell you, it is generally one of the worst kinds of purgatory, from which my alternate other will never recover.
PS.Aubergina, or rather, Big Bhartha may have had a harrowing experience; but that is methinks, more the exception than the norm. My own experience has been glorious and I had a whale of a time. For me, it was the only way I could get to learn from, and work with people that are the best in the business. And I have their permission to say so! My advice? Take that internship you are offered, learn, and not burn! And make sure you avoid the ubiquitous eyebrow!
APARNA KATHRIKAYAN
aa@cnkonline.com
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