You know the moment when you walk into your new office of employment, fully caffeinated, and you realize you are about to engage in a potentially life-changing experience? Oh, and also, those heels you thought would complement your first day of work dress, may actually be cutting off the circulation to your ankles? Well, as a young and impressionable intern at the World Policy Journal, I experienced the above sensation on my first day of work– which notably was also my 21st birthday.
After determining to stick to flats for the remainder of the summer, I began to befriend my fellow interns. In the coming weeks, each intern– with his/her permission, will be profiled in this blog. Their contributions to the Journal and to my overall experience will be detailed and examined and satirized.
Today I begin with Caroline, the only other female intern, and hence the only other person in the office who did not mock me for naming my blog after a song lyric from a Broadway musical about a woman suffering from depression. As a Brown woman (I apologize, the Wellesley woman in me will not refer to a female above 18 as a “girl”), she is both laid back and personable. Researching articles about excrement bags in the developing world, Caroline has demonstrated her ability to get down and dirty, in a semi-literal sense.
She is also the reason why after leaving work the first day I knew that my internship experience would be more than tolerable– it would be enjoyable. While sipping a diet coke at my birthday dinner, where just my luck the restaurant no longer had a liquor license and hence could not serve me alcohol, I referenced Caroline as the other double XX chromosome in the office. My friend, Laura, having just supplied me with the most decadent CRUMBS cupcakes, asked me what it was about Caroline that comforted me– other than the whole sisterhood connection. My response, “She likes smittenkitchen too!”
As a self-described foodie, I take great pleasure in websites dedicated to fetishizing edible items. Most people– including Upper East Side Italian mothers– warn against this pleasure, which they deem a dangerous obsession. Said people are concerned that if their daughters appear to be too concerned with culinary delights, those daughters will never find sons; and their dream of having grandchildren will never materialize into reality. Caroline, however, dismisses those individuals, and like me, takes pride in smittenkitchen, which consistently provides the most delectable recipes. More importantly, though, Caroline has heard of the website. When it suddenly appeared as a link on my blogroll, she did not stare in confusion (which is more than I can say for her male counterparts). She understood; fellow foodies always do.
Of course, having formed an emotional attachment to a person who appreciates both food and theater, I now must say goodbye. Caroline leaves tomorrow, and sadly I will be on a plane to Chicago at the moment of her departure. I have no doubt we will continue to debate the best method for creating a chocolate doughnut hole– without permanently burning our bodies in 150 degree oil. Nonetheless, as per any ending, parting is indeed in such sweet sorrow.
In other news, stay tuned for a surprise guest blogger this weekend, who while I am in the Windy City, will delight you with tales of the City that Never Sleeps.