Intern Lesson

For once I'm actually going to write about something an intern taught me. Fancy that!

She was blonde, gorgeous, and she competed in fitness competitions. Read: KILLER BODY. I was not nice to her. For no reason. I wasn't a B.A. but I just wasn't my normal, gregarious, interested, chatty, helpful, friendly self. I didn't say hi to her in the halls. I didn't reach out or offer to take her on shoots with me. She was smart enough to finally just ask, and although I said yes, I didn't really talk to her or give her much help. 

She eventually left. And I felt like such a douche baguette. It just didn't sit right with me. It was so not me. I was catty and unfriendly and awful. And then I realized why. I felt threatened by her. Again, for no good reason. She was a freaking intern!

She wasn't out to take my job. She wasn't trying to steal my man. She wasn't eating the special chocolates I hid in my desk. She was just. there. to. learn. It wasn't her fault she was scary pretty and her butt was a trampoline for quarter bouncing.

I felt so dirty for being so douchey that I was extra nice to every intern who ever asked to go out with me after that. Any intern that made the effort to say hello, and introduce themselves was going to get Nice Vicky. Helpful Vicky. Friendly Vicky. Not Jealous, Catty, Snooty, Petty Vicky. 

It totally changed how I interact with other women too, not just interns. I am not a girl hater. I celebrate my successful sistahs. I look for commonalities and I say "You Go Girl!" but not exactly like that because that's sort of dorky in 2010. Kinda like, "Talk to the hand." Memo to co-worker who still says that: don't.

But don't get me wrong. I am not all marshmallows and butterscotch. I still reserve my right to go Bitch Ass when Bitch Assed. 

P.S. No other interns were harmed in the writing of this post. And this was a long time ago, during my years in Phoenix.