You are hot shit, you spiffy SI. We all wish we could wear your pearl necklace, kitten heels, and pencil skirt or your ass-hugging khakis, sportcoat, and white shirt that you have to have drycleaned because you are too spoiled and/or stupid to wash and iron it yourself. Moral of the story, you already rock, so whipping out your Blackberry every twenty seconds only adds insult to injury.
Let us first remember, it is not your Blackberry, it is the one you were given for the duration of your internship. You only have it so that Senator X or CEO Y can remind you that they want Splenda in their their venti no-foam latte, not Sweet and Low. Press secretaries need them. Journalists need them. Actual Hill employees need them. You do not. Everyone knows you don't. So when you pick it up three times in the course of an elevator ride from the Sub-Basement to ground level, you look like a monstrous tool.
Also, when you are standing in line for that latte and it is your turn to order, don't talk on said Blackberry. It is rude. And you are not important enough to be rude. Few people are. You are not saving the world, you are not ending world hunger, you are not curing cancer. Hang up and call back the fellow SI to whom you are likely talking after you tell the poor man or woman who has to serve you what you want.
Get it together.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Dollar Rail Drink In Your Hand Is Worth More Than You
When you spill a beer at happy hour, which you are only attending so you can flaunt your name tag and gloat about how Senator X came in and brushed your desk on his way to his office, be a decent human being and ask someone to grab a mop. Or, really go nuts and grab a napkin yourself.
Also, if you drop a glass and it shatters everywhere, SAY SOMETHING. Don't just let your fellow SI's in their commuter flip flops shuffle through it. So what if the waitress glares at you? You're the alcoholic who broke the glass!
Understand that everyone is mocking you. Yes, you. If you notice that a bouncer is standing near you, it means you are a drunk whore and he is waiting for you to either puke, throw a punch, or ask a friend to let you "just lean on them and let you close your eyes for a second" at which time he will derive pleasure from throwing you out.
When the waitress "accidentally" brings your food last, or forgets that side of ranch you wanted, it's because you are a douche bag and don't deserve nice things.
When the waitress clears away your pyramid of Natty cans that you and your friends are giggling about, it's not because she has to, it's because she wants to hear you whine and steal a small part of your fun because you suck her soul every night.
When the bar tender dances with you, it's not because he likes you, it's because you suck at dancing and his co-workers need a good laugh.
Also, if you drop a glass and it shatters everywhere, SAY SOMETHING. Don't just let your fellow SI's in their commuter flip flops shuffle through it. So what if the waitress glares at you? You're the alcoholic who broke the glass!
Understand that everyone is mocking you. Yes, you. If you notice that a bouncer is standing near you, it means you are a drunk whore and he is waiting for you to either puke, throw a punch, or ask a friend to let you "just lean on them and let you close your eyes for a second" at which time he will derive pleasure from throwing you out.
When the waitress "accidentally" brings your food last, or forgets that side of ranch you wanted, it's because you are a douche bag and don't deserve nice things.
When the waitress clears away your pyramid of Natty cans that you and your friends are giggling about, it's not because she has to, it's because she wants to hear you whine and steal a small part of your fun because you suck her soul every night.
When the bar tender dances with you, it's not because he likes you, it's because you suck at dancing and his co-workers need a good laugh.
Monday, June 16, 2008
This Is Not Your Playground, It Is Ours
Let's get one thing straight. People who live here, work here, play here year round live in "the District". SI's live in Washington, D.C. or even just D.C. This is not your playground, you are a guest. You do not blend in, you are not a native, you do not go to school here, so when you're updating your super fly Facebook or myspace page to show all of your friends just how cool you are, know your role and where it says "Residence", don't insult us with "the District", do the right thing and put "Washington, D.C."
And no, listening to the Postal Service song does not give you permission to use that coveted phrase.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Interns Rule The World
For once, SI's deserve a little credit, so do the people who intern year round.
We are the gate keepers to published fiction, grant proposals, blog items, spread sheets, press releases, government research, news compilations, and innovative policies. We work at $8 an hour (if we're lucky) to create quality work that our bosses get credit for. We impact national and international financial markets, media outlets, lobbying strategies, publications, you name it.
The 18-20 something SIs and YPs (young professionals) do the grunt work. Up the pay, bosses of the world - you get raises for our ideas.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
This Is Not Your Mess Hall
Sure you down home cool cats are used to moseying into the mess hall, bumping into the baseball player you hooked up with the night before and waving frantically to your sorority "sisters" at your table by the window before grabbing a tray and standing in line for the meal of the day. You may not be used to paying $8 at meal times, you may not be used to eating anything other than your do-it-yourself salad bar or the too-cool-for-school stir fry that the cafeteria people make right in front of you, but guess what, your not in Kansas anymore - food costs money, so does service.
You may not even say hi to the poor souls who give you your pizza and fries in the dining hall, but they are humans and you should, similarly, while you are pretending to be Carrie Bradshaw and going out to eat, don't forget that your servers are also humans. They happen to be humans who run their asses off to get you honey mustard and ranch dressing for your french fries, who circle your table to keep your drinks full, not because they like you but because they need money.
If they do a good job and are pleasant, you should tip them. Not with the quarters at the bottom of your bag, but with dollars, with 18 - 20% of the tab if they were good. If Daddy is paying your credit card anyway, what's the difference? If you only want to act like a big girl when you are in the office doing that grueling 8 hour shift we discussed, then don't go out to eat. Go hole up in your dorm and trade secrets with your new room mate with whom you will certainly be friends for the rest of your life.
And one more thing - water glasses are for drinking, not for drunkenly filling with ketchup, salt, gum, and wadded up napkins. This is a respectable city in which normal people function from day to day - get it together.
You may not even say hi to the poor souls who give you your pizza and fries in the dining hall, but they are humans and you should, similarly, while you are pretending to be Carrie Bradshaw and going out to eat, don't forget that your servers are also humans. They happen to be humans who run their asses off to get you honey mustard and ranch dressing for your french fries, who circle your table to keep your drinks full, not because they like you but because they need money.
If they do a good job and are pleasant, you should tip them. Not with the quarters at the bottom of your bag, but with dollars, with 18 - 20% of the tab if they were good. If Daddy is paying your credit card anyway, what's the difference? If you only want to act like a big girl when you are in the office doing that grueling 8 hour shift we discussed, then don't go out to eat. Go hole up in your dorm and trade secrets with your new room mate with whom you will certainly be friends for the rest of your life.
And one more thing - water glasses are for drinking, not for drunkenly filling with ketchup, salt, gum, and wadded up napkins. This is a respectable city in which normal people function from day to day - get it together.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Working 8 Hours?!
Just throwing it out there, it is not a big deal to work an 8 hour day.
Maybe you are used to a mid-day round of frisbee golf, or a puff at the old hookah in the quad, but reality check, folks...the rest of the world works 8 hours. People who go to schools not surrounded by cattle and rolling hills and work during the week - they put in 8 hours a day. All those other people on the street at 8:30 am - 8 hours. The people who clean the halls of the dorms your parents are renting for you during the summer - you guessed it, 8 hours.
On the way to work today, I passed two exasperated SI's who were explaining that yes, they actually had to work from 9:30 - 5:30. What a novel concept!
"No, Mom, you don't even understand, I was so tired last night, I was there (the office) from like 9 - 5!"
"Yeah, it's like really intense, I have to be there at 10 and I didn't get to leave until like 6! It was so weird."
Yes, truly strange and unheard of.
Maybe you are used to a mid-day round of frisbee golf, or a puff at the old hookah in the quad, but reality check, folks...the rest of the world works 8 hours. People who go to schools not surrounded by cattle and rolling hills and work during the week - they put in 8 hours a day. All those other people on the street at 8:30 am - 8 hours. The people who clean the halls of the dorms your parents are renting for you during the summer - you guessed it, 8 hours.
On the way to work today, I passed two exasperated SI's who were explaining that yes, they actually had to work from 9:30 - 5:30. What a novel concept!
"No, Mom, you don't even understand, I was so tired last night, I was there (the office) from like 9 - 5!"
"Yeah, it's like really intense, I have to be there at 10 and I didn't get to leave until like 6! It was so weird."
Yes, truly strange and unheard of.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Take It Off
We know you are excited to work for Senator X on the Hill. We know you are a true badass for landing an internship with the State Department.
We all want to be you.
But for heaven's sake, take off your damn nametag at the end of the day. Don't "accidentally" forget to remove it before happy hour, for this makes you a tool, not an employee who is so wrapped up in his job that he just didn't have the time to remove the tag that flops against his chest all day.
Nametags are a pain in the neck and should be considered a collar given to you by your political owner.
Here is the truth about name tags:
* During the many very important errands you run every day, you walk so fast that your tag flies behind you and you have to reach to your side to retrieve it in order to present it to the Capitol subway guard.
* It gets in the way when you go to the bathroom so you sling it over your shoulder along with the tie cutting off your air supply. (Ladies, this goes for you too, sans the tie.)
* You look like an inmate in the picture.
The bottom line is, the people you are meeting for drinks/coffee/dinner after work know what your internship is, so stop being an attention whore. And please, for God's sake, if you have worn it to the bar/restaurant and STILL no one has noticed it, quietly remove it, don't ostentatiously look down and say, "Oh, I totally forgot to take this off."
It's just painful and blatantly awkward.
We all want to be you.
But for heaven's sake, take off your damn nametag at the end of the day. Don't "accidentally" forget to remove it before happy hour, for this makes you a tool, not an employee who is so wrapped up in his job that he just didn't have the time to remove the tag that flops against his chest all day.
Nametags are a pain in the neck and should be considered a collar given to you by your political owner.
Here is the truth about name tags:
* During the many very important errands you run every day, you walk so fast that your tag flies behind you and you have to reach to your side to retrieve it in order to present it to the Capitol subway guard.
* It gets in the way when you go to the bathroom so you sling it over your shoulder along with the tie cutting off your air supply. (Ladies, this goes for you too, sans the tie.)
* You look like an inmate in the picture.
The bottom line is, the people you are meeting for drinks/coffee/dinner after work know what your internship is, so stop being an attention whore. And please, for God's sake, if you have worn it to the bar/restaurant and STILL no one has noticed it, quietly remove it, don't ostentatiously look down and say, "Oh, I totally forgot to take this off."
It's just painful and blatantly awkward.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
