How do I put this delicately? My internship makes me want to run away to Scotland. First of all, it's not even a real publishing internship! The two magazines Goodlife Media produces contain NO content that wasn't paid for by companies who want advertising. The so-called restaurant and cultural event "reviews" aren't real reviews; they're advertising! I knew when I accepted this internship that I'm not really into fashion and elite wealthy culture, but I really thought it was at least a respectable magazine (even if it was in an unrespectable--in my opinion--field of journalism).
Worse yet, I'm not even working on the magazines! Goodlife is also a public relations and events planning group, and right now they are absorbed in planning their two illustrious parties. So Brooke (the other intern) and I spent all day calling and inviting wealthy snobs to these frivolous events. And now we come to the crux of the horror of my internship. I could sink into blissful ignorance of the pointlessness and frivolity of my internship and I could even forget the fact that I am planning events instead of writing and editing...IF and only if the working environment was something I could handle. If things were organized and I felt that I was accomplishing something and things were coming together, I could handle almost anything.
However, I have never in my entire life seen anything as disorganized as Goodlife Media. You would think that a company that enjoys hob-nobbing with the uppercrust would at least have a basic database of contacts with email addresses, postal addresses, and phone numbers. Believe it or not, they don't. They had a very specific--but impossible to decipher--idea about which patricians should be allowed to come to each event and which VVIPs we simply had to entice to grace us with their presence. This messy, partially handwritten, partially computerized, list had next to no phone numbers or email addresses on it. And yet they kept telling me, "Call these people! We must get these people to come!" To which I would respond, "Which event should I invite them to, or are we inviting them to both?" Alanna: "Uh, I don't remember" or "Don't you see? The pink dot? That means the July 8th event!" And then, "Well, Alanna, I would love to call yet another busy person who thinks he/she is God's gift to humanity just because he/she has money, but sadly there is no phone number here. How shall I get around that obstacle?"
It was awful! Chaos makes me seasick, no joke. And calling snobby people when I don't have any idea of what I'm supposed to say is also terrible. I wouldn't mind doing that if I felt competent and well-informed because then I can act professional and think on my feet, etc. But in an environment in which Alanna comes running, talking loudly, and searching on my computer WHILE I AM ON THE PHONE WITH A VIP, I just about crack.
One person I talked to on the phone (after making me wait for several minutes while finishing up a conversation with another one of his well-endowed acquaintances without even the standard unfelt apology) said, "Well, I'd be interested in coming, but I've received invitations from your office before. They've called and said they would email me an official invitation but they never followed up properly." I said, "Well, we'll be sure to get you an invitation this time." (Even though it's not like I could really be sure of that, since I had witnessed firsthand the upheaval of Goodlife.) And I asked whether he would rather have it by post or by email. He said that he'd asked for emails from us before with less than satisfactory results, so we'd better send him the invitation by post. (I should have been able to enjoy the moment because it came naturally to me to say "post" instead of "mail" or "snail mail," but I could not because of the circumstance.)
I expected my internship to be challenging, and I expected it to be in a fast-paced environment. But I thought the chaos would be organized chaos and I thought the fast pace would be running efficiently towards a goal.
Brooke and I were ranting about our internship while walking back to our Tube stop and we weren't paying very much attention while crossing the street. (Believe me, you CANNOT do that in London if you want to stay alive.) We almost got run over by a van that was NOT slowing down! The best part of my day was going out to lunch with her and getting a very English meal of eggs on toast. (Hence the picture in this post.)
1 comment:
But that was only the second day! Give it some time. Things will get better.
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