First day of interning at a place that shall remain nameless. Let’s call it Hot Mess Central because that’s pretty much what it was. In all the best ways possible, of course.
I arrived to orientation in the early hours of the morn, ready to experience the magic of being an editorial intern, and meeting new people. I chose the desk by the window because I’m no barbarian, and it also had pretty paper lanterns hanging over it. “PERF.” I thought. This will be my new home.
I scanned the room to find I was one of two males among 8 other women, women who all seemed perfectly fit to be working at a company like this one. The other male’s name was David. He seemed nice. But I didn’t really feel like making bro talk at that moment. Too early for that shit.
As the time to begin orientation moved closer, in walks a scruffy mess of a ginger who decided to sit at the ghetto-ass desk next to mine. It was smaller than everyone else’s desk and had no windows near it. The area in which he sat was cut off from the rest of the room, and had little to no decorations. The only thing that could be considered “decor” on that side of the room, was a black and white post of James Dean that was only taped well on its bottom half. So basically, you couldn’t even see James’ face. “What a ratchet area,” I thought. And at that moment I dubbed it, “THE SLUMS.”
“Hey what’s up,” the man said.
I responded with an effortless, “hi.”
We began with intros. The best part about first day right? Each intern introduced themselves with an interesting fact to share, ranging from “I go scuba-diving ” to “I love salsa.” My interesting fact was that I would be seeing Lady Gaga’s Born This Way Ball in two weeks. I received sunshine-y laughter and friendly giggles for announcing my love for THE GAHGZ. Good, this would be a crowd I could roll with.
“She’s a genius,” said the inhabitant of THE SLUMS. “I just think she is just such an artist.”
UHM who said you could speak, sir. This is my introduction. Annoyed at first, but at the same time, I thought it was pretty cool for him to think that, especially for a guy who looks like he plays guitar in a rock band that practices in a garage somewhere (later found that out to be true).
Maybe I had a chance to make friends with my next-door neighbor after all. Only time could tell.
After I completed my introduction, he went next. His name was Jeremy.
The Saga Continues…
This was starting to get annoying. David (the guy who sat on the other side of me) and Jeremy had made a bro connection, a connection I just so happened to be blocking. I couldn’t help that my desk was in between the two of them and neither could they. So they would have to speak loudly and lean back in their chairs to speak to each other, engaging in sports talk and telling “funny jokes.”
When we had guest speakers, they would roll their office chairs over to each other and block my view of who was speaking. “GOD, GET A ROOM,” I thought.
One day, Jeremy came to me with advice. GIRL advice to be exact. Now, I’m always down to help a brotha out, but it is funny how straight guys go to the gays on how to get girls.
“How do you get all the ladies to love you?” he asked.
“Uhm, by being into men…” I said.
Later that day, my internship manager Leslie came to us interns for a task. Editorial needed a picture of people blowing bubbles to promote an Instagram contest we were doing, so she asked us to grab some bubbles and go outside for a photo shoot.
“Robert, are you ready?’ Leslie asked.
I said, “Excuse me, no. I don’t blow anything on camera.”
And that was the beginning. Like the Big Bang of the Universe. A spark that came from no where which birthed a world of wonder and ridiculousness. Jeremy reeled back with laughter. And that’s when I realized this could work. With my sass and Jeremy’s Pisces driven charisma, the connection was made.
Within weeks, people became obsessed with us. Literally. Every Instagram picture, Facebook status, and Tweet only pushed the obsession further.
And THE HOT MESS EXPRESS still continues to chug along the tracks.