Hello to the blogosphere,
So this is my first real blog post since I had a xanga in 9th grade and wrote about all the work I had and whether I had a crush on some unattainable dude from the drama department. Do I introduce myself first?
Who I am: Lilah, a to-be-senior. I like having lunch with people I don’t know, doing crossword puzzles and listening to my sisters make fun of people on the street. Other things I like: sun when it’s beating down on me, Armenian food that makes your breath smell terrible, twitter as a news source. I am taking over Claire’s role as Editor of the Voice next year, although by next year I really mean I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it all for months. I worry that if I continue writing about the Voice I’ll just start making lists. Nobody wants that. Let’s change the subject.
Where I am: NY NY, sleeping in Union Square, working in World Trade Center 7 (see right panorama and invest in autostitchfor your iPhone…note ground zero work happening @left, Wall St territory @right), seeng my beloved friends in various pre-hip (or too hip) gentrified Brooklyn neighborhoods, and trying to try all of New York’s best sandwiches. I got accepted into this great internship program through the American Society of Magazine Editors (ASME), that chooses 22 junior applicants and matches them up with paid (what?) editorial internships.
So I’m working at Inc., “The Magazine for Growing Companies”, which was my first choice in a list of potential match-ups – above a bunch of lifestyle and entertainment magazines like People, Fitness, Reader’s Digest, Parents, Glamour, and a few other choices that exemplify me, but the opposite. Inc.’s blurb started with, “At Inc., interns don’t get sent on coffee runs; they’re too busy doing serious work” and ended with “anyone with an intense curiosity about the way the world works will find it an enriching professional and personal experience.” It had a little ‘tude. Can’t believe I just wrote ‘tude.
So today is my second day. They’re not used to me yet, so my job essentially has
been to sit in my tasteful wood Ikea cubicle and stare out the window at all of New York (not complaining – see right) and wait for someone to take an interest in me/give me projects. Yesterday I walked in wearing something I desperately thought may pass as business casual, and my boss was wearing jeans and a
flannel shirt (thanks for the awesome advice, sisters; I was the only one clacking in the hallway). Today I wore jeans and everyone’s wearing dress suits; I’m really fitting in nicely. That said, yesterday my neighbor turned to me after hours of silence and said he noticed I didn’t have a desk lamp, and he found his to be quite useful, and did I want one. I was greeted by one this morning. The pleasures in an office can be quite small. Which reminds me: they have a refrigerator full of free Diet Coke.
All this said, I was still too nervous to ask these incredibly basic questions: a, how much do I get paid. b, can I take lunch? And c. what time does work end? (Turns out it’s six. Immediately ran outside and wrapped my face around a falafel.)
I’m going to go see if the Editor in Chief will give me something to do. I’ve been told she wants me to work in print, but I think approaching her is probably a terrible idea. Also I’m underdressed.
’til next time…
LR
