The overhead ventilation system, having provided a humming
backdrop to the morning, suddenly cuts out, leaving my corner of 48
surprisingly quiet.
Female Intern, aka “Fi”, aka “Office Kitten”, is packing
up the last of her desk. Having oncevowed to crush her cheerful little intern-ly heart, I now watch her prepare to
leave with something akin to sorrow. Fi has accepted a job offer, a move up in the
world, both literally and figuratively, from the workaday world of the 48th
floor to the perfumed halls of the 49th.
Naturally, I am against it.
“What will I do without you?” she says, only half, I
think, in jest. “Who will show me
hairstyles done only with paperclips and Scotch Tape?”
I had been worried about that very same thing. “With whom will you discuss your smelly feet?”
I say.
“What if I need a gas relief tablet?” Fi shakes her head, bewildered.
I, too, shake my head.
“Who will watch you manage to eat one apple, all day long?”
“Who will teach me the ways of the Office People?
She smiles at me.
Fi, a gleaming haired ocelot of a young woman offers the smile of the
optimistic while stuffing the last of her old desk’s contents into a Macy’s bag. “You’re probably going to weep, aren’t you?”
I smile back. “I’m
weeping now.”
“Will you write about me?”
“No.”
She smiles. “When
do the grief counselors come?”
“Right after they deliver the keg.”
“So you did manage to schedule the After Intern Dance after all then?”
“Right here in the Northwest corner, baby. We’ve bolstered Security for this one. This time, no gang colors.”
She throws up a hand sign. “I appreciate it.”
The last of her stuff in her bag, she wanders around to
the outside of the double cubicle. “I’ll
see you around,” she says.
“Lunch Monday?” I say.
“Set it up,” she confirms.
And Fi, straight-spined Future of America, bags of office
paraphernalia in hand, walks away.
The ventilation system overhead kicks on again and fills
the space she left with white noise.
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38 comments:
It'll be a few days before you notice that the Xerox has disappeared along with half of the potted plants and paper-clips!
You let this one escape Pearl but no fear, another will soon fill the void with his/her own particular idiosyncrasies/idiocy. There will be another victim (twirls evil mustache...bwah-ha-ha-ha).
Ah, there's an office romance after my own heart. Intern me no interns, while the intern's with you and the intern in turn will not forsake you.
Actually, another one is waiting in the wings already, I'm sure.
a space of white noise - very creative - but Pearl, I thought you had your hair colored.
Bittersweet. So enjoy owning your space whilst you miss the cadet.
Like the song says: You don't know what you've got til it's gone.
Oh, let her go! You are internalising all this far too much, Pearl!
Oh, the agony, the ecstasy, the questionable foot aromas of co-workers past. How you've captured it all here, Pearl.
Oh, the agony, the ecstasy, the questionable foot aromas of co-workers past. How you've captured it all here, Pearl.
I miss her already. So much entertainment.
aww. i'm missing her already...
Will there ever be a MI as good as a FI? To the tune of...
I'm so glad you let us know! I'd like to be a fly on the wall at that lunch. :)
I would face Corporate Canada again if you were there, Pearl. :) Brilliant stuff.
The "empty nest syndrome" strikes again!
Semper Fi, baby.
Fi, we hardly knew ye.
~sniff~
You must be so proud, to release your little fledgling into the wild, wild upper floors. If she is truly yours, she will come back to you.
Sounds like Fi was a pretty nice intern to have around. Since I'm new here I obviously missed some stories.
Darla
She's like a Little Pearl, the daughter you never had :)
You have helped her get a good start in her career. She will always remember that.
oh no! I'm sad now!! Let us know about Lunch Monday!!
You do have your priorities in order.
number 1. keg
number 2. I don't think there is a number two if a keg is involved.
A question for you...will you still love me after the beer is gone?
I'll miss the stories about Fi. She sounds like fun. But your kegger and grief session sounds like more fun.
That's the trouble with interns... once you really start to like them, they get up and leave. (Usually for a fancier job that yours that pays more.)
I am going to miss Fi.
Can we hope that the next intern will be a boy for you to push around ? You know, in only the kindest way ..
Later, of course, you will figure prominently in her memoirs and she will humbly thank you yet again for your indulgent mentorship. No? Of course she will.
Can't wait to meet the new intern!
You'll miss her, but there's always email. And the prospect of another newbie to train.
You nailed that last paragraph; I'd have been delighted to have written it.
Or you can make far more objectionable noises at your desk.
Seriously, I really loved how you wrapped this up.
"The ventilation system overhead kicks on again and fills the space she left with white noise."
Genius.
Now, go get yourself some Mexican food.
WHY, Fi, must you leave??!!!
(Oh, come on....you were all thinking it!)
Maybe she will act as your spy; you know...to let us all in on the sheniagans going on up there in the perfumed halls of the 49th floor.
You have just enough time, I think, to come up with new hairstyles using staples and post-its for the new kitty in town.
Bummer. Good office buddies are hard to come by. And are rarely, if ever, replaced with anyone semi-cool. :(
Interns are a dime a dozen, but there is only one Pearl. FI will be back begging, begging I say, if not for your company, then for the gas pill. Hold on tight to them and bring her to her knees.
You're duty- and honor-bound, of course, to initiate a NSFW email war. Now that you no longer share the same space, it's all the sweeter to try to cause the worst possible reactions when she opens your emails. You have to be careful; establish a new, secret email account, if necessary. Try to send them during morning meetings and briefings, if possible. Dirty jokes, photoshopped pictures of coworkers, babies, animals, coworkers as babies or animals...you get the idea. :)
Pearl, even the most idiotic and unlikeable office cohorts are missed, but don't cry, baby.... Get a nice bobble-head to talk to instead. ...One you can whack with a left-over tuna sandwich.
"Pearl Trains a new Bobble-head" somehow comes to mind.
I can see the the Great American Novel coming--right from the 48th floor in Minnesota. ":)
I'm going to love your blog; I can already tell!
Fly, little Neophyte, fly! Take what you have learned and create a little oasis of Pearl-inspired wit and wisdom wherever you go!
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