Last week, day before the long weekend. Possibly the busiest. She loses her apartment keys (attached to her train pass, gym card, everything with her name and address) and abuptly leaves the office (two hours early) to borrow another set from her real estate agency. Did I mention that this was before our long weekend and that we were swamped with work?! And she had taken a two hour lunch, calling every possible person and place who might have found her keys. (She eventually found it in the bushes, when she went back and retraced her steps. Now why were you in the bushes?)
And yesterday, when I was closing up the office and had just switched on the security system and was about to run out, she came slamming in, wailing for her missing cell phone. Which she found her bag.
My patience is wearing thin...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
My First Sense
My intern's been back for a very long time, and new stories are very much overdue.
Not a day goes by without her annoying me, which means I have no reason not to write. But she always finds a way to irk me, even on days she doesn't come in, through emails and phone calls. So why would I want to spend my spare time writing about her if she isn't that funny any more but just annoying? Really, I don't know why I can't be more tolerant. Maybe it's because there's always something olfactory to remind me of her.
Her perfume. While she was away for two weeks, I noticed our office had somehow retained that unforgettable spice. It's sweet-smelling, but sticky sweet, and green. A fusion of baby wards and old people's homes and a shot of greenhouse. Gardenias gone bad. Shower Fresh soap scum with mildew... And because she's always underdressed, she takes the liberty of adjusting the heating the office to Southeast Asia and steams up our tiny office and leaves me with a throbbing, lingering headache. I think her perfume just doesn't agree with her natural BO.
The odd bit is that she actually asked me once, quite apologetically, if her perfumed bothered me. I stuttered back, uh, no, but the scent is rather... different, isn't it? (...What would have been an appropriate answer? Please advise...)
But the other day, a client came by to drop something off at our office. He's always chatty, fairly good natured, and sometimes can be surprisingly blatant/brutal with his comments about completely irrelevant things.
On his way out that day, he turned around and said,
"It's, uh, really hot and stuffy and 'strong' in here, isn't it?"
...with his eyes on the source of the stench.
I still complain and laugh about her smell, but I secretly note that it's gotten noticeably lighter.
Not a day goes by without her annoying me, which means I have no reason not to write. But she always finds a way to irk me, even on days she doesn't come in, through emails and phone calls. So why would I want to spend my spare time writing about her if she isn't that funny any more but just annoying? Really, I don't know why I can't be more tolerant. Maybe it's because there's always something olfactory to remind me of her.
Her perfume. While she was away for two weeks, I noticed our office had somehow retained that unforgettable spice. It's sweet-smelling, but sticky sweet, and green. A fusion of baby wards and old people's homes and a shot of greenhouse. Gardenias gone bad. Shower Fresh soap scum with mildew... And because she's always underdressed, she takes the liberty of adjusting the heating the office to Southeast Asia and steams up our tiny office and leaves me with a throbbing, lingering headache. I think her perfume just doesn't agree with her natural BO.
The odd bit is that she actually asked me once, quite apologetically, if her perfumed bothered me. I stuttered back, uh, no, but the scent is rather... different, isn't it? (...What would have been an appropriate answer? Please advise...)
But the other day, a client came by to drop something off at our office. He's always chatty, fairly good natured, and sometimes can be surprisingly blatant/brutal with his comments about completely irrelevant things.
On his way out that day, he turned around and said,
"It's, uh, really hot and stuffy and 'strong' in here, isn't it?"
...with his eyes on the source of the stench.
I still complain and laugh about her smell, but I secretly note that it's gotten noticeably lighter.
Friday, February 23, 2007
My... wha?
Last Saturday. My intern calls at 9:30 am, when I am on my way out the door. Surprised, I fumble and drop my phone, and can't and don't pick up. She doesn't leave a message either, so I figure it isn't that important. At the station though, I decide I should check up on her. She picks up after a ring and a half, and frantically tells me she has rashes around her mouth and it hurts and that she has to go to the dermatologist but they are only open at odd hours so is it okay if she goes now and comes in at noon? Huh, well, sure, why not.
At 12:05 she calls, again, frantic, saying she is 5 minutes away from the office and is on her way over. Fine.
Ten minutes later she comes running in, out of breath, apologetic. Really, it's okay.
While making herself a cup of tea, I go ahead and brief her with developments on the project. She still nods and shakes and spills, but she seems a bit upset today, but I don't blame her. It does look painful around her mouth. It does look ugly. But I try not to look at it. We finish talking, and I give her some research material and get her to work.
"Oh." She suddenly turns around and looks at me with her unflinching eyes. "The rashes. I have herpes."
You... wha?? Her... wha?! I don't know what to say. So I ask the golden comfort question:
"Are... are you... is it... okay??"
"Oh, yes, the doctor told me it's something that could go away after a day. So I'm okay".
"Well, that's good to know. Very good to know. I, uh, appreciate you telling me."
Great. My intern has herpes.
At 12:05 she calls, again, frantic, saying she is 5 minutes away from the office and is on her way over. Fine.
Ten minutes later she comes running in, out of breath, apologetic. Really, it's okay.
While making herself a cup of tea, I go ahead and brief her with developments on the project. She still nods and shakes and spills, but she seems a bit upset today, but I don't blame her. It does look painful around her mouth. It does look ugly. But I try not to look at it. We finish talking, and I give her some research material and get her to work.
"Oh." She suddenly turns around and looks at me with her unflinching eyes. "The rashes. I have herpes."
You... wha?? Her... wha?! I don't know what to say. So I ask the golden comfort question:
"Are... are you... is it... okay??"
"Oh, yes, the doctor told me it's something that could go away after a day. So I'm okay".
"Well, that's good to know. Very good to know. I, uh, appreciate you telling me."
Great. My intern has herpes.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
My Bobblehead
One of the first things she did on her first day was make herself a cup of tea.
She asked if she could, after seeing my cup of coffee. She picked out a tiny teacup and a sachet of green tea from the cupboard and poured hot water. She then stood with the cup in her hands and listened as I explained a few things about the office. She nodded along to my words. But she did so with so much enthusiasm that her whole entire body was nodding along, as well as the teacup in her hands, the tab hanging from the teabag fluttering with her move. And then tea was splashing in her little cup and dripping over her hands. I stopped talking and stared, and she realized her hands were wet.
"Oh!" She jumped. "I was nodding along so much that I spilled all over myself."
After she cleaned herself with tissue paper, and we decided to go to another room where I could continue filling her in with office rules. On the way, she continued to slosh her cup around and left a trail of water, even with a layer of tight saran wrap on top. I ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. When I came back she had already settled down at the table. She was looking around, trying to absorb her surroundings. And perched in her chair, she ceremoniously peeled off the drenched saran wrap, plopped that on the table and announced there wasn't much tea left. While balancing my own coffee and files, I quickly grabbed the wrap, wiped the table down and made sure she hadn't left any ugly tea rings under her cup.
The first day, the first hour...
She asked if she could, after seeing my cup of coffee. She picked out a tiny teacup and a sachet of green tea from the cupboard and poured hot water. She then stood with the cup in her hands and listened as I explained a few things about the office. She nodded along to my words. But she did so with so much enthusiasm that her whole entire body was nodding along, as well as the teacup in her hands, the tab hanging from the teabag fluttering with her move. And then tea was splashing in her little cup and dripping over her hands. I stopped talking and stared, and she realized her hands were wet.
"Oh!" She jumped. "I was nodding along so much that I spilled all over myself."
After she cleaned herself with tissue paper, and we decided to go to another room where I could continue filling her in with office rules. On the way, she continued to slosh her cup around and left a trail of water, even with a layer of tight saran wrap on top. I ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. When I came back she had already settled down at the table. She was looking around, trying to absorb her surroundings. And perched in her chair, she ceremoniously peeled off the drenched saran wrap, plopped that on the table and announced there wasn't much tea left. While balancing my own coffee and files, I quickly grabbed the wrap, wiped the table down and made sure she hadn't left any ugly tea rings under her cup.
The first day, the first hour...
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
My Intern
In college, I was an internship whore. Yes, I loved interning. I went through four different internships. My supervisors treated me well and let me go on fun errands. I got brownie points without having to try too hard and acquired skills that I still whip out once in a while. I still keep in touch with 3 out of 4 of my former supervisors. I loved interning so much, I thought I could intern for the rest of my life.
But no, there comes a point in life when you have to move on from being an intern and get yourself a real job. It sucks at first, doing the routine coffee runs and photocopying, which really isn't very different from what you do at the beginning of an internship, but the advantage is that you get paid. Paid to complete the same menial tasks. After a while, the boss starts sharing and delegating and giving you projects. And then you realize, I need another me.
This happened last month. So I asked around and found myself a mini-me. She's great. She's really into her job, asks the right questions, we chuckle at the same jokes and she even works outside her hours to complete assignments. A keeper, and I'm glad we get to pay her a bit to compensate for her labor. But she only gets to stay on for this project...
...Because my boss happened to hire another intern for my project around the same time I found my mini-me. Someone he found through an old acquaintance. She's a girl a plastic smile plastered on her face, and her head is perpetually cocked to one side. She has an affinity for the girly frills and ribbons: we have the same cell phone model, but hers is bright pink with a cute teddy bear phone strap that is bigger than the phone itself. She already has a day job, and can come only twice during the week from 6 to 8 (now who ever said I was staying that late) and Saturdays, but eager to get the feel of this industry. She seems sincere enough... maybe a little too.
I've had her for about two weeks now. That's not long. But she has already given me enough stories to make my stomach hurt from laughing so much. It saddens me that she's gone for the next week and a half. Meanwhile, I will recount her episodes, longing for her return. I am horrible. I know. But she is just too precious not to share....
But no, there comes a point in life when you have to move on from being an intern and get yourself a real job. It sucks at first, doing the routine coffee runs and photocopying, which really isn't very different from what you do at the beginning of an internship, but the advantage is that you get paid. Paid to complete the same menial tasks. After a while, the boss starts sharing and delegating and giving you projects. And then you realize, I need another me.
This happened last month. So I asked around and found myself a mini-me. She's great. She's really into her job, asks the right questions, we chuckle at the same jokes and she even works outside her hours to complete assignments. A keeper, and I'm glad we get to pay her a bit to compensate for her labor. But she only gets to stay on for this project...
...Because my boss happened to hire another intern for my project around the same time I found my mini-me. Someone he found through an old acquaintance. She's a girl a plastic smile plastered on her face, and her head is perpetually cocked to one side. She has an affinity for the girly frills and ribbons: we have the same cell phone model, but hers is bright pink with a cute teddy bear phone strap that is bigger than the phone itself. She already has a day job, and can come only twice during the week from 6 to 8 (now who ever said I was staying that late) and Saturdays, but eager to get the feel of this industry. She seems sincere enough... maybe a little too.
I've had her for about two weeks now. That's not long. But she has already given me enough stories to make my stomach hurt from laughing so much. It saddens me that she's gone for the next week and a half. Meanwhile, I will recount her episodes, longing for her return. I am horrible. I know. But she is just too precious not to share....
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