Conquering the Copy Machine: My First Day as an Intern
I reposted this article because I accidentally deleted it earlier, and I got a few complaints from people wanting to read it.
On my first day as an intern at Folio Literary Management, I arrived at our office fifteen minutes late because I apparently don't know the difference between taking the subway "uptown" or "downtown." Fortunately, because I'm more of an idiot than I realized, I actually arrived forty-five minutes early—I thought I started at nine when, in reality, I was supposed to be there at ten.
When my boss showed up an hour later, we discussed various aspects of the agency and his expectations for me as an intern. He then informed me that I would be responsible for dealing with queries, manuscripts, and proposals. I nodded like I knew what these were.
My first task involved making copies of a handwritten manuscript. Some people might consider this boring; for me, it was terrifying. Due to my confidentiality agreement, I can't reveal any details about this manuscript—but rest assured, it was a big deal. I figured that within the hour I would mangle at least fifty pages into an unreadable mess. Honestly, I even worried about mistaking the copier and the shredder. After showing up both fifteen minutes late and forty-five minutes early, my incompetency had reached an all-time high.
Miraculously, I only ripped a couple pages—and none so badly as to prevent the words from being read. Praising my surprising talent at copying, I sauntered back to my boss and handed him the new manuscript.
Then I went back to the "intern room" and read manuscripts for the rest of the day. Since I was sorting through the slush pile—the unsolicited manuscripts—none of them were good, and most were terrible.
Fortunately, nothing could bring me down: I had conquered the copying machine.
My first task involved making copies of a handwritten manuscript. Some people might consider this boring; for me, it was terrifying. Due to my confidentiality agreement, I can't reveal any details about this manuscript—but rest assured, it was a big deal. I figured that within the hour I would mangle at least fifty pages into an unreadable mess. Honestly, I even worried about mistaking the copier and the shredder. After showing up both fifteen minutes late and forty-five minutes early, my incompetency had reached an all-time high.
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| "Of course I know how to use—no, wait, don't go!" |
Miraculously, I only ripped a couple pages—and none so badly as to prevent the words from being read. Praising my surprising talent at copying, I sauntered back to my boss and handed him the new manuscript.
Then I went back to the "intern room" and read manuscripts for the rest of the day. Since I was sorting through the slush pile—the unsolicited manuscripts—none of them were good, and most were terrible.
Fortunately, nothing could bring me down: I had conquered the copying machine.
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