Internship journal
5/17
I went to work at Lehigh Valley Magazine this morning not knowing what to expect, but not really expecting that I had to know, either. I did know that the office was small, and located in an ugly crème-colored box in North Bethlehem, but that was the extent of my knowledge.
This compared unfavorably to my other solid internship prospect, The Vindicator in Youngstown, Ohio. Though the Vindy was in a bad part of a bad town, it was a newspaper and the building reflected it. Whereas LVM is in a building pretending to be a house, the Vindy’s home made no attempt to be anything other than utilitarian. It looked, felt and smelt as a newspaper should. I only spent 16 hours in that newsroom, but I loved it all the same – it was as if The Brown and White was an afternoon edition and run by 35-year-olds.
Yet, when it came time to make a decision, I opted for the close-to-quasi-home comfort of working 10 minutes from campus. Moving to Ohio (even just the thought of trying to decided what to fit into my small car) and living alone for 12 weeks barely seemed like an option, even when I figured in the $300 a week in pay, the usefulness of The Vindicator on my résumé and just the overall pleasantness of the job. I decided that staying in Bethlehem and having friends nearby was worth taking an unpaid position where the work was less satisfying.
After just one day, I can say this: Boy, was I ever wrong.
At Lehigh Valley Magazine, my main duty appears to be fact checking. This involves calling people relevant to articles and asking them inane questions such as how to spell their names (even if I already have a different reliable source to verify that information, such as the phonebook) and if that locust tree in the front yard is really a locust – or is it another genus entirely?
This line of work is tedious, and hardly requires any prior experience. Anyone picked up off the street could quickly be explained whom to call and what to ask. My abilities are going to waste if this is my summer’s fate, and I’m not happy about it. (But now maybe I understand why copy editing is the hip job for otherwise-unemployed twentysomethings – in the sense that they’re doing it, it’s probably just glorified fact checking and therefore it’s easy and requires no college degree. But these people are not copy editors in the sense that I want to be one. They’re happy to stay at the lowest rung, making coffee, phone calls and a few minor spelling changes. They have no ambition, no will to move up to better editing positions, but also no ability to do other jobs. With the high availability of these washouts, it’s no wonder copy desk salaries are piteously low.)
And I should mention that the reporter should’ve gotten this information in the first place. If we’re not sure about the n in someone’s last name having a tilde or not, a call to the reporter should clear things up – if she doesn’t know anything, then the publication’s credibility is in trouble.
The fact that I am going back and checking every little thing written in every article undermines my whole understanding of journalism. If these people cannot be trusted to write the facts, why do they have jobs as writers?
The one thing that pleased me today was that Maureen brought up the Janet Malcolm/“intellectual gigolo” case when explaining my duties as a fact checker, and I knew enough about the case to sound knowledgeable. Prof. Lule said knowing this sort of thing was important, but I didn’t believe him until now.
5/18
The work today was much the same as it was yesterday – eight hours of calling people and interrupting whatever else they were doing to ask them the most god-awful questions. (I think my favorite today was, “Is your beagle a boy or a girl? You’re not sure? Can you check for me?”) I endured this task for as long as I could muster my coolheadedness, which just barely lasted until the end of the workday.
Later on, I was discussing my internship with my friend Kristen and concluded that she was much better off. When I was still in the process of hunting for a summer job, I talked to Wally about getting a copy editing position at The Morning Call. He said it wasn’t possible – that no Lehigh journalism major was capable of doing that line of work, but said I could report. I told him I wasn’t interested.
I think I proved Wally wrong when I earned an internship with The Vindicator after a two-day tryout. Copy editing was what I wanted to do, and I didn’t want to settle for a job that was going to make me unhappy. Of course, when my duties at Lehigh Valley Magazine were explained to me, they sounded awfully similar to those of an editing intern. (I later learned that Wally pushed for other students to have nontraditional internships at the Call, which was upsetting.)
Kristen ended up with the reporting internship after I passed on it, and today was her first day. She said she was basically thrust into reporting, instead of spending a day training or whatnot, and I was jealous. Not only did she get to work in a newsroom (next to Bill White, no less), but she was doing real work on the first day, whereas what I was doing only qualifies as legitimate work to middle schoolers. And she’s going to get all sorts of clips!
So I was envious that Kristen got the better internship, but she reassured me that mine could be plenty fun. Basically, she suggested that I ask people questions, but act like I have entirely wrong facts: “Sir, it says here you list kitten-kicking as a hobby. Is this true?” I laughed, but I hardly think I could do that with a straight face.
5/19
Technically this was my day off (I’ll switch to a normal Tuesday through Thursday schedule at some point in June), but I decided to be productive and call some restaurateurs, hoping to catch them in an afternoon lull. I got one of the owners of Mangos Coastal Cuisine on the line and to my amazement he was a complete jerk. Not because I was interrupting anything – because he had heard most of these questions already (I did have a few new things to ask). I had to apologize profusely just to keep him from hanging up because I knew I’d have to call back if I didn’t get the new information I needed.
5/20
Because I couldn’t find phone numbers for several food retailers, I spent about an hour and a half of the morning at the Allentown Fairground Farmers Market. I was there to check the spellings of names and get a few pieces of information the writer forgot, but I decided to enjoy myself too. I did not fit in – the farmers market’s clientele consists solely of couples in their mid-70s who walk slowly and take up the full width of the aisles. This may have slowed down my usual quick pace, but I was content to be 50 years younger than everyone I saw as well as dressed to the nines. (OK, maybe only the sixes or sevens, but I obviously was not dressed the part of a farmers market shopper and I secretly hoped people were looking at me and wondering if I was some city boy who got lost on the way to somewhere important and technologically advanced.)
I bought a lemon meringue pie and a cup of pineapple chunks, both of which I ate for dinner. I also sat down at Charlie K’s Pizza and had a slice of cheese as an early lunch.
I nearly died on Route 378 on the way home. I was driving in some lady’s blind spot and speeding up in an attempt to get out of it. (I couldn’t slow down because a car was coming up behind me fast.) We were approaching slower traffic and, as soon as I got next to her, she decided to switch to my lane. I stomped on the gas and swerved around her, at maybe 85 m.p.h., and got in the slow lane as soon as I could. I knew she hadn’t seen me, so when she passed me and gave the “I’m sorry” wave, I gave her a “Don’t worry about it” in return. Still, I was shaken up that I drove back to my apartment and sat for half an hour before I went back to work.
When I got back, the magazine’s owner was in from Harrisburg for his weekly visit. I was told later that he had no prior experience when he bought the magazine, and it was apparent from watching him that he hadn’t had much experience working with people either. He eliminated the publisher’s position, giving her eight days’ notice and informing her in front of other employees. He complained about a $13 expense someone filed for a lunch so she could write a blurb about a restaurant. He said he was going to scale back stipends paid to reviewers. He outlawed lunches on the company card, even if they were strictly business-related. He yelled a lot.
Working with this man, Davy, seems unbearable – I’m glad I’ll barely see him this summer. I’ve recently had to deal with an insufferable boss of my own; my former boss, Kate, left Jazzman’s for better things and her replacement, Kim, is crazy. She is quite possibly on drugs and very definitely a jerk. She has no idea what she’s doing and often has employees filling out her paperwork. She’s fired several people (and driven away others) and replaced them with friends and former co-workers. Et cetera, et cetera. I was glad I was able to use this to commiserate with Maureen.
Things got slow in the afternoon, so Maureen had me run to a photographer’s studio to pick up some CDs of photos. (The photos were of cows, awesomely enough.) The studio was in Allentown in a neat building called Silkwerks, and I learned how to take Union Boulevard and avoid the awful road pretending to be Highway 22. Seriously, why can’t people merge here? It’s not a problem in St. Louis, and there are a heck of a lot more cars on Highway 70.
5/21
Maureen complained about my eating habits this morning – namely, about how I don’t eat while at work. (This isn’t exactly true; I had a bag of M&Ms out of the vending box the other day.) But eating isn’t really something I feel like doing – I have a light breakfast in the morning and then usually stop by Jazzman’s and gorge myself on the way home. Apparently I have an hour lunch break if I want it, though. In the past, when I worked in my dad’s office, I always had working lunches and rarely left my desk. (Contrarily, I eat constantly when I’m working at Jazzman’s, but the food there is omnipresent.) Working in an office makes me want to focus on working, basically, and I can’t understand the necessity of eating if it’s going to distract me. On the other hand, I don’t want my boss to think I’m anorexic, because I’m not.
Because I’m caught up on my work – maybe caught up is not the right term, as it implies that I had fallen behind at some point – Because I make such quick work of fact checking, there was nothing for me to do this morning. Nothing journalism-related, I mean. Maureen had a stack of old photographs and slides she wanted me to sort through and then mail to their owners. I learned how to use the postage machine (which, I admit, is sort of cool) but secretly worried about my duties.
Maureen saved the day by handing me laid-out copies of the stories I had fact checked. She told me to proofread them. I was happy. Proofreading meant almost the same thing as editing. Proofreading meant fussing over thats and commas, as well as other nitpicky things, which is apparently my forte.
Proofreading meant ... The Chicago Manual of Style? Never before had I been acquainted with this book, which is to Lehigh Valley Magazine what the A.P. Stylebook is the The Brown and White, or what some magic, never-seen-by-mortals grammar/punctuation/style book is to The New York Times. The only real oddities involved spelling out dates and numbers up to and including one hundred, so it wasn’t really much of a departure from what I am used to. And I can put it on my résumé and look oh-so-versatile.
I had to drop some things off in Maureen’s office right before I left, and she was interviewing the fall intern (as I learned, the interview is not actually an interview but instead a formality-type thing). The new intern goes to Lehigh – her name may or may not be Jamie, I’m slow to learn things – but I don’t think I’ve seen her before. She must be a journalism major, or I suppose just very interested in getting journalism experience, but I have no idea who she is. Yet, next semester she’ll be doing the same work I am doing now.
This is my big gripe with the internship, I think – the fact that I have it doesn’t mean anything. If Jamie, who I know nothing of, can do this, then I’m going to assume that anyone can. There are four very talented journalism majors in my class (John, Jessi, Kristen and myself; I’m not sure when Jess Glowinski is graduating) (this is also the reason there’s been such a power struggle on The Brown and White recently) and none of us should have to work at Lehigh Valley Magazine. I don’t know, it just seems about three notches below The Morning Call on the internship totem pole.
Then I got home and saw Kristen’s first article published near the front of the Call’s local section. I’m jealous – she’s going to get 20 clips this summer and the most I’ll be getting from LVM are the four credits I need to graduate.
5/25
I had to do more errand-running this morning. Once again, I drove to Silkwerks to pick up some CDs of photos (more pictures of cows). If I have some free time soon, I need to go exploring on Union Boulevard – there are a lot of interesting-looking diners, restaurants, stores, etc. that I want to visit. When I got back to the office, Maureen had me upload the pictures to the magazine’s server in Harrisburg so the graphic designer could get to work on them. While this falls under the umbrella of menial labor – all I did was drag the icons from the folder on the CD to the folder on the server and wait several minutes for each one (these were giant, 50MB files) – it was menial on labor on an iMac, a computer for which I have to admit a mild infatuation. Definitely much better than the piece of work I’ve been using. Plus, I didn’t have anything else to do except wait for a couple of people to call me back, so I was glad to be doing something.
Carrie, the associate editor (second in charge), had an assignment for me after lunch. She gave me a stack of blurbs for the Best of the Valley awards the magazine does every year and told me to check anything that looked like a fact. There were 70 winners (and more categories, since some businesses won more than one) and therefore at least 7000 facts to check, it seemed. I couldn’t call any of the restaurants – the people there get angry if you call after 11 a.m. – but I did make my way through 17 businesses before it was time to go home.
What I noticed about the blurbs, which is something I’ve also seen in other articles so far, is that the writing is not spectacular. Each writer has her (the her being intentional: the only males working for LVM other than myself are the owner and the photographer) own style, of course – the restaurant/car reviewer employs over-the-top wordiness, for example – but as a whole, the magazine’s quality seems sub-par. This bothers me because I read the copy again and again and don’t feel comfortable fixing things I see dozens of times. If there’s one thing I’m constantly decent at, it’s writing, and I don’t like not being able to do it when I feel so inclined. Maybe I’ll mention it to Maureen.
Kristen had another article published, this time on page B1. The more work she does, the more I regret not taking that job when I had the chance, or, better yet, throwing caution into the wind and driving to Youngstown for 12 weeks of Vindication.
5/27
Davy was in again today; yelling and frustration ensued. But then he went to lunch and didn’t come back – someone got a phone call and said he had a minor stroke and would be in the hospital until tomorrow.
Other than that, the work day was uneventful. I hit the halfway point with the Best of the Valley blurbs early in the afternoon, and then hit a wall of people either not answering the phone or promising to call back. (I don’t expect any of them to remember to call me, but at least I’ll have plenty of work next week.) By the end of the day, I only had 29 blurbs left, but I’ve noticed that these are tending toward the ones with the most to check, the most questions to ask, the hardest people to reach.
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6/3
Because I moved into my off-campus house on the first, I asked off for both Tuesday and Wednesday this week, which resulted in a long weekend and a two-day work week, both of which I’m a big fan of. On the other hand, coming back to work after nearly a week off was not entirely enjoyable.
Davy was in Bethlehem for the day once again, but the office was more or less quiet the whole time, so I didn’t particularly mind. As long as there’s no yelling, I’m a happy camper.
Since the office was distraction-free, it was pretty easy to get to work on the Best of the Valley blurbs, and I plowed through about 15 of them before I started having trouble reaching my contacts. After that, I just read for the remainder of the afternoon.
One other interesting thing happened today. After a couple of the women ordered lunch, one of them – Melissa – asked someone else if they had seen if intern had wanted anything. Not Tom, not the intern, but just plain intern. I was disappointed that Melissa couldn’t remember my name, as I try very hard to learn the names of people I am working with. I guess maybe it’s because I keep to myself most of the time.
6/4
I took advantage of it being Friday and took a long lunch break today (with Maureen’s permission). (However, I did not dress any more casual than I already do, even though I think my khakis and short-sleeve button-down shirt combo are overdressy half the time.) There wasn’t really much work to do at lunchtime anyway, as most of the Best of the Valley things I have left are restaurant-related and therefore not doable between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m.
When I came back, Maureen had three new stories ready for me. None of them were especially intriguing, but I got to work and made as many phone calls as I could. Then, at 4 p.m., Maureen said I could go – she was letting everyone go home an hour early to try to make the weekend as pleasant as possible.
6/8
After reading The New York Times, I got to work on the new stories this morning. I had to call Porsche North America and Mario Andretti’s daughter, but that was really the only fun part of it. I finished two of the articles by lunchtime and was waiting for someone to call me about the other one (and I was still waiting for a few people to get back to me about the Best of the Valley blurbs), so I got to relax and read my book of the day, “The Catcher in the Rye.” My phone never rang, of course, so I read the entire book.
There was more drama involving the recent firings and lay-offs and non-promotions and whatnot. There was much yelling and arguing and hmph!-ing. I just did my best to filter it out, which involved staying at my desk the whole day. This resulted in sore legs and a near-inability to walk. So now I’ve found another reason to go out for lunch.
6/9
I’ll admit I was really looking forward to having a half-day today – there’s nothing quite like being done with work at 1:30. As for the work, I just finished up the articles Maureen gave me on Friday, and then accomplished a little bit of fact checking for the Best of the Valley. With any luck I’ll have that done tomorrow. Of course, that’s assuming people call me back like they’re supposed to, which has hardly been the case so far. I might have to drive to a few of these businesses and kick down their doors so I can verify the owner’s names.
Maureen said I could read for the remainder of the day, since I had to sit there and hope La Mexican Grille, American Hairlines and others would call me. I made great progress on “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” – I read nearly half of it – and decided that I need to get to Borders soon so I can buy some new books; I’m tired of rereading everything I own.
While reading, I determined I really hate the set-up of my office, if you’re willing to stretch the word to that extreme. My desk is in a room that also serves as the copy room and the passageway to the second floor. There are always people in the room with me, and, with my desk against the wall, I rarely know who’s around. I’ve figured out that, if the light is just right, I can look up at the window and see a decent reflection of the room, but otherwise I either have to turn around or just wonder who is behind me and if she plans on sneaking up on me or something. I guess I’m easily distracted.
Before I left, Maureen called me into her office and warned me that Davy is coming tomorrow, so I can expect her to be in meetings all day, as well as a generally crappy atmosphere. I told her I’d worked long enough in my dad’s office to be able to ignore angry businessmen, and that it wouldn’t be a problem.
The good news was that she promised to have some page proofs for me to work on, so I’ll have less downtime as well as the opportunity to rip apart some articles. Yay.
I also had to call Professor Friedman tonight to discuss the internship. A few weeks ago, I envisioned complaining about the nature of the work – why is something so easy one of the j-department’s standard internships? Why aren’t there more the same caliber as The Morning Call? Why am I allowed to waste my talents? Etc. But I just wasn’t in the mood – I realize this is how magazines work (though I’m sure most are on a larger scale) and that I don’t ever want to do this. Now all I can do is wait this out and try to get a newspaper job before it’s too late.
6/10
The tension at the office was not so thick as to require a knife for its cutting; no, one could easily part the stress by walking around – much like Moses and the Red Sea, only without the staff and the Hebrews and all of that. That is to say: There was not nearly as much drama as had been expected.
Sure, Davy was there, hovering over shoulders and complaining about finances in that nasal, weasely voice of his, but I guess everyone was able to put up with him for once. Some people started venting the moment he left, but it wasn’t to the degree I’d seen several times before.
The whole keeping up with The New York Times throughout the day thing is working to my advantage – I’m always on top of breaking stories (today: Ray Charles died; I knew approximately seven minutes after the story was posted). I also learned that the U.S. Postal Service got a day off tomorrow – I’m sure they all planned to mourn Reagan – so I spent my lunch break driving back to the SouthSide to get my Jazzman’s paycheck and mail it home. I would’ve preferred to eat, truth be told, but this meager income is all I have for the summer. But yeah, I enjoy the opportunity to read a newspaper every day. When I’m home (St. Louis), I read the Post-Dispatch religiously and Lehigh’s free paper program got me hooked on the Times in March. I’d much rather have something physical to hold onto (this is why, against all common sense, I applied for a lower Brown and White position (associate editor v. managing online editor) than I could’ve been chosen for, thus ending my dream of being editor in chief next spring), but online will do for now.
For most of the morning, I just waited for people to call me back while Maureen was in meetings. When she was done, she printed out proof pages for the Best of the Valley article and told me to edit for length. First I was supposed to look for paragraphs where just one word or part of a word extended onto the last line, as those could easily be tracked down, and then I could go back and cross out any content that I determined didn’t add anything. It wasn’t quite editing – I didn’t think I was allowed to change anything unless there was a misspelling, so I didn’t – but it was more fun than talking on the phone. Actually, Maureen had already gone through the copy and tried to make it flow better, so many of the mistakes I had been noticing in the copy I was fact checking were nonexistent.
I kept busy with that for the rest of the day, then braved the heavy rain and drove home. XXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX XXX XXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXX XXXX XXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXX XX XXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XX XXX XXXXXXX XXXXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXXX It was the kind of thing I expected people to ask about. I’d say, oh, it was just a tray of cookies, ha ha, and then whoever I was talking to would say, you poor thing! and take pity on me. (I’ve burned myself before and this is how it usually plays out.) But that didn’t happen.
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6/15
I had nothing to do today. Yesterday I called the remaining award winners [again] and left messages for all of my contacts, so today I had to play the waiting game. I am not very patient. Also, I hate focusing on one task for any period of time, so watching my phone not ring is not my idea of a good job. But I did finish another blurb, so now I’m down to three. It seems like I should have them done tomorrow, but it seemed like that a week ago.
Maureen wanted me to drive over to a public relations firm on Main Street to ask someone questions about the Andretti party article. I also had to take some pictures of people we needed identified, so I had to wait for Melissa to print a color copy of the story. But first she had to rearrange some things, then there were printer issues and I didn’t leave the office until 3 p.m. – Maureen mentioned it to me before noon.
The trip was quick, of course – I think it took me longer to find the office once I was inside the Main Street Commons than it did to drive and park. The public relations woman (Public relator? Oh, right, publicist.) – Tina Bradford – was happy to see me; she had been waiting for a couple of hours by that point. As it turned out, she couldn’t identify the people in the photos, but knew someone who could and asked to borrow the pictures so she could run them over to this other women. I made and executive decision and told her to go for it, but mentioned that I needed them back soon, preferably by Thursday morning (I was just picking a day at random, and it turned out to be perfect).
She left immediately, actually, and I found myself in the office (quite small, not even half the size of my bedroom (which is quite large)) with only her intern. I contemplated asking this intern to accompany me downstairs to Heavenly Hedgehog – which I had seen on the way in and had already planned to patronize – but ultimately decided against it when I realized I didn’t know her name. Instead, I settled for an awkward farewell. But think about it: We’re both in college and interning at businesses that are marginally journalism-related – in a nutshell, we’re comrades. We could’ve traded war stories over dishes of ice cream, after-dinner mint for me and coconut crème for her. We could’ve hated our jobs and possibly had other things in common with each delicious bite. But no, I ate my ice cream alone.
Because I had nothing else to do for the day, I read “Infinite Jest” until I left for home. Although I read this slightly more than a year and half ago, I decided to re-read it this soon partly because it will take me longer than two days and partly because I didn’t attack it vigorously enough the first time. So I’m reading it again.
(The first time I read most of it on a bus (Bethlehem to Boston and back, approximately eight hours each way with a stop in Providence (which by the way is a lovely town (and I won $2 on a lottery ticket (that I have yet to redeem) in the bus station))), which severely affected my comprehension, what with the bouncing and inability to stretch. Plus, the ride back to school involved sulking on top of the reading (because the trip did not go as planned (which is to say it was cut a day short and I have not spoken to the visitee since)) and I am a notoriously bad multitasker. And then there’s the book itself. David Foster Wallace is a master of the English language, a man obsessed with acronyms/initialisms, a veritable encyclopedia on most any topic (including drugs, tennis and math) and an author ever-willing to digress into asides. So this book, this tour de force, is 1000+ pages, with 80 of those filled with footnotes. There are hundreds of characters and dozens of plotlines, and Wallace writes in a style unique to each scene – he dabbles in Ebonics, uses a heavy brogue for a few paragraphs and adopts the quick, jittery speech of druggies on cocaine.)
In short, the book is dense and a very difficult read. (Some call it this generation’s “Ulysses,” but it’s infinitely easier than that, as well as “Finnegan’s Wake.”) It deserves to be devoured, and that’s what I’m going to do this time around.
6/16
OK, so now I can finally say that I’ve worked a day where I felt absolutely necessary and was busy the entire time. Of course, it was only a half-day, but who’s counting?
Maureen gave me mechanicals for several of the articles (all of which I had spent countless hours staring at already) and told me to go over them twice, the first time a cold read and the second a comparison with the previous edit.
I loved it. The work was so close to what I’ve done for The Brown and White and it’s really the one thing I enjoy doing for extended periods of time. So it didn’t matter that I stayed late because Maureen kept handing me stories to go over – I was happy to stay and edit. I was able to delve deep into The Chicago Manual of Style and uncover such mysteries as how to format quotes within interviews and casual references to the time of day. I also had a chance to be fussy about the page layouts, which I’ve frustrated dozens of people with in the past. But yeah, I’d finish one or two articles and Maureen would hand me one or two more; I didn’t even notice that I’d worked an extra hour until my stomach started growling.
She apologized for not realizing I had a half-day and saying something, but I shrugged it off. She also said she knew I’d probably want to get some clips out of this internship, and that we could talk about me writing something tomorrow.
Also on the schedule for tomorrow is a marathon session of going over all of the fact checking for Best of the Valley with Carrie, who is always in charge of this project. This is probably going to take a couple of hours, as we have to go through my copy very carefully and make sure every change is made on the master version. It’s the sort of tedious work that is going to have me calculating exactly how much time is left based on how many pages we’ve gone through.
6/17
Once again, I had a busy day. It was quite possibly the busiest day I’ve spent at a desk in any location. Except for lunch, I don’t think I got out of my chair. The merits of this are debatable, of course; all I know is that I was glad when I could walk and stretch on the way to my car.
First, I worked on mechanicals of some of the articles, which means that the pages I was looking at were somewhere between proofs and whatever you call pages that are read for final reads. I’d finish going through one of those and give it to Maureen, who would make the changes, read through it and then print out a final copy for me to look at one last time. I noticed that my edits (on the first proofs at least) got more and more thorough as the day progressed, probably because it’s been awhile since I’ve done any real editing and I needed to find my groove.
So I took the aforementioned lunch and then I was supposed to go over some articles with Maureen, but she was busy so instead I helped Melissa (of not-remembering-my-name fame) make some minor layout tweaks to a few pages of an events guide sort of thing. I felt pretty stupid.
Then I finally got to go over my edits with Maureen. She critiqued a couple of things, and I looked some stuff up in the Chicago Manual. Then we took a short break, following which we made all of the fact-checking changes to the Best of the Valley (Carrie was not at work today) article. This process took more than an hour of me reading through every change I had made and Maureen typing each one into her file of the article. I was counting down the pages the entire time.
There wasn’t much work to do after that, so Maureen and I chatted. She mentioned that she was looking to get fired so she could freelance as well as receive unemployment, but she promised to be at the magazine at least until my internship is finished.
Also, right before I left she asked me to come in tomorrow. I said sure, whatever – I finally feel halfway useful while I’m at work.
6/18
I accomplished enough yesterday that all I had on my schedule today was to wait for a few measly phone calls and proofread anything Maureen put on my desk. She didn’t have much, though, so I had a slow morning.
Once again, I left the building for lunch and took my time coming back. When I did return, the office was empty save for Maureen, so I just reveled in the quiet and read a book. No one called me back and I was itching to leave, so eventually Maureen let me go a bit earlier than usual.
6/22
It was rather grey out today – I had to drive through a nasty rainstorm (and then hop out of my car and run through it for a few meters) to get to the office. Maureen wasn’t in yet, so I just wrote in this journal. (I must admit, I’ve been neglecting it the past week or so, but I’ll catch up eventually.) An hour and a half later, at 11 a.m., Maureen still wasn’t in. She does tend to get to work after everyone else, but never that late, so I asked around and found out that she was taking a personal day. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to use this as my day off and went home.
6/23
Again I got to go home early. Maureen called 15 minutes after I got in and told me she didn’t have any work for me, so I could go home and take tomorrow off too. She said we’d get back to business on Tuesday. I was ecstatic; I have a million things to do this week, including fixing my car and possibly house-hunting.
It was strange driving home at 9:50. I saw people XXXXXXXXXXXXXX I know driving the other way XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX on the 378 bridge, heading to work and probably wondering what I was doing.
6/29
Maureen had stories for me to fact check this morning. One was about a winery that makes ice wine, another was about a bar in Easton and the third was a review of some rich guy’s house. I had already finished the winery article and was nearly done with the pub one when she gave me the last story, so I was impressed with how quickly things were going. She did warn me that my main contact for the house – the wife of the man who paid for it – is crazy and will probably try to sidestep simple questions that need not be avoided. That’s something to look forward to.
Later, Maureen pulled me into her office because she wanted to tell me some “juicy gossip.” (It seemed like she was more excited to tell me than I was to hear it.) Most of what she had to say involved people leaving the magazine. Pretty much everyone is looking for work elsewhere, as far as she knows. Maureen has not been fired yet, but is still hoping for it, as she’s spoken with several potential buyers of the magazine who are ready to make offers to Davy as soon as LVM starts going under. With everyone poised to leave, this could happen any day.
It’s nice to know that Maureen wants to tell me all of these things, but it’s strange being her confidant (she can’t tell anyone actually working for the magazine, obviously). I feel important in some odd way.
Before I left, Maureen said that she’ll be open to any ideas I want to pitch for the next issue – short, review-type things, generally. I had been hoping she’d just have something to offer me, because I don’t have any ideas. But I’ll think about it, and maybe I’ll come up with something worth writing about.
6/30
Today was a boring day, and I was thankful that I only had to work for four hours. I spent the entire morning waiting for the phone to ring. It didn’t. Sitting in that chair was excruciating, but I’ll call my contacts again this evening to leave messages or possibly get some work done.
Maureen apologized for the lack of work, but said that next week I will get to edit a few stories – since Carrie’s schedule has been reduced to eight days per issue and some stories have come in early, Maureen is going to try to get the pages laid out as soon as possible. I realized that, in effect, she was complimenting my editing and proofreading skills (she did say she was going to have to cross her fingers for a decent intern in the fall), which is pretty much the only compliment I’m looking for these days. It’s good to know that I’ll be integral in putting together the upcoming issue.
7/1
The first thing Maureen told me this morning was that the article about the house had been killed. The family’s publicist somehow obtained a copy of it and thought it cast them in a bad light. (Personally, I just thought it made them seem rich and very much into material possessions.) So this is why the crazy lady has not called me back yet, and now I don’t have to expect her to call.
With that out of the way, I didn’t have much else to do for the rest of the day. I ordered lunch with some of the other people in the office and ate with them in the lunch room, which was a little awkward because I am pretty quiet and I guess everyone expects me to be talkative.
Maureen unfortunately couldn’t give me any other projects to work on because she was in and out of meetings all afternoon, so she let me leave an hour early and told me to enjoy the weekend.
7/6
With things going so slowly this morning, I volunteered to do some menial labor. Lehigh Valley Magazine is putting on a bridal show Sunday, and each of the 300 brides attending gets 50 raffle tickets to enter drawings for different prizes. Melissa and I sat in a room working on this for two hours – I’d tear five strips of 10 tickets off the roll and then rip them in half (these were the kind that are usually just matched against the ticket that is drawn, hence two halves, one of which we didn’t need) and she’d number them and paperclip them together. I became frighteningly good at this incredibly fun job, so by the time Maureen had a story for me to look at, Melissa was behind by nine sets of tickets. I felt bad; she had to spend the rest of her day doing that alone – we had only made it up to set #56.
The aforementioned story was half book review/half author biography. The author in question – Sarah Strohmeyer (daughter of Pulitzer-winning editor John Strohmeyer of the defunct Globe-Times) – is originally from Bethlehem and writes mystery novels set in fictional Lehigh, Pa., with a flakey blonde hairdresser as the protagonist. Judging from the chapter excerpt I read on her official Web site, she is either not a good writer or very, very skilled at appealing to non-intellectual readers. But I’m leaning toward the first alternative. The other thing I discovered while perusing her Web site was that the article’s writer had paraphrased the entire biography to the point of plagiarism. Example:
Bio
While interviewing Janet Evanovich, creator of the highly popular Stephanie Plum mysteries, Sarah confided that she wanted to write similar books. Since Janet had lived for many years one town over from Bethlehem, she understood where Sarah was coming from and recommended calling the imagined book “Bubbles Unbound”. Janet was mum about what to do after that. (Darn!)
Sarah wrestled with different incarnations of Bubbles (Savvy reporter? Lehigh University college student? Overweight outcast?) ...
Article
Earlier, Sarah had interviewed Janet Evanovich, creator of the popular Stephanie Plum mysteries. When Sarah confided she would love to write mysteries as well, Evanovich, who hails from nearby New Jersey, had encouraging words. Evanovich, who knew where Sarah was coming from, even went so far as to recommend a title: “Bubbles Unbound.”
Sarah had considered making her sleuth a savvy reporter, a Lehigh University student, or an overweight outcast. ...
I ran to Maureen’s office and showed her the “similarities.” She said she’d bring it up with the writer, who has apparently been acting strangely and may not want to write anymore. This is the kind of problem I expect to pop up at The Brown and White maybe once or twice a semester, but it was a surprise to see plagiarism on a professional level.
After a relaxing lunch break during which I drove to Jazzman’s and finagled some free food out of one of my coworkers, I came back to a nearly empty office. Maureen was out running an errand, but had left a Post-It asking me to make some calls for her. With the recent cuts and layings-off, she now has to deliver magazines to several vendors in Easton. Since she hasn’t done this before, she needed to know how many magazines each business usually orders, and that’s where I came in. I had surprisingly little trouble talking to these strangers on the phone (I especially hate talking to people who are clueless), and I think it has something to do with the fact that I dialed the numbers with a pencil eraser – somehow that put me on a power trip, so I wasn’t afraid of the people on the other end of the line.
I decided to leave early because I was at such a standstill and needed to run a few errands before stores started closing. But then Maureen and I got to talking about Apple products (I may or may not be getting an iPod soon, but either way I am in love with the company) and I didn’t leave so early after all.
7/7
This was the first time I’d ever had to work on my birthday – usually I’m at home working in my dad’s office, so it’s not difficult to take a day off when I want to do fun things. I didn’t mention the nature of the [holi]day to anyone at the magazine; I know it can be awkward to celebrate someone’s birthday when you’ve only known him/her a few short weeks. As much as I could’ve used a free lunch (the business standard I was assuming I’d get if I wanted it), I chose the high road and acted like it was just a normal Wednesday. Which, in reality, it probably was.
(It should also be noted that this was my first birthday away from home. I really had no idea what to do with myself all day, and I got very homesick when I had to open presents from my family while sitting on my bedroom floor alone.)
Maureen had another story for me, a review of the Freddy Awards at the Easton State Theatre quite likely written by a publicist. That’s how it read, at least. Now I know how great and uplifting and hope-giving theatre can be for high school students, hurrah! I plowed through as much of it as I could (which wasn’t much, because I could not reach anyone on the phone) and then discovered I had nothing else to do.
Literally nothing else.
I haven’t brought any books in lately, as I’ve exhausted my collection and was unable to buy anything new for fear of receiving it as a present today. As a last resort, I turned to the Internet. I hated to do it, but I needed something to keep me occupied while I wait for calls to be returned.
The Internet was a bad idea, though, as, it being my birthday, I splurged and bought XXXXXXXX. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem if I had the money (I don’t), was earning the money (I most certainly am not) or just didn’t care (unfortunately, I do). Impulsive shopping urges saw their chance – a rare lapse on my part – and took it, and now there’s a hefty chunk of money somewhere between my checking account and XXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXXXX.
Before I left, Maureen asked if I could stay just a few minutes late and answer the phone (everyone else was out to lunch) – she had just convinced Davy to let her go at the end of this issue and wanted to grab some celebratory food and eat it outside while she read the Times. It’s strange seeing someone excited about being fired, but she plans to more or less switch jobs with Carrie so she can do freelance work on the side.
7/8
This morning I finished fact checking the article about the Freddy Awards. Basically I just called a lot of high school counselors and whatnot to verify the kids’ names. Nothing too exciting, really.
Thanks to my birthday, I had some new books to read, so I started one of them once the day got slow – otherwise I was just waiting for the phone to ring, which of course it didn’t. The telephone in my “office” exists just to taunt me, I’m beginning to think – it doesn’t seem to allow incoming calls, or people are just afraid to dial the number and talk to me.
I was invited out to lunch by some of my coworkers, but I turned them down even though I was hungry. Sure, I’ve worked with them for eight weeks now, but I still balk at the idea of eating with them – it’s just too awkward, and one of my life’s goals is to avoid awkwardness whenever possible. (My seeming inclination toward uncomfortable situations notwithstanding, it really is a goal of mine.)
7/13
I was 10 minutes late to work – still a good half hour before Maureen came in, mind you – and I felt awful for it. I had a good reason: In getting the speedometer reinstalled in my car, I had to drop it off at the mechanic’s shop this morning; Tuesday being the only day he’s available, as he doesn’t always work in Bethlehem; I walked from the shop to work, the distance of which walk I seriously underestimated last night when I was planning my day – it was much closer to 25 minutes than the 15 I had readied myself for. So I found myself walking briskly through North Bethlehem (a jog was out of the question, even with my impending lateness, since I’d rather be late than sweaty) without a chance to stop and soak in all of the interesting things I saw.
But like I said, Maureen also came in late, and, when she did come in, she didn’t have anything new for me, so it wasn’t a big deal. It’s just that I pride myself on my unfailing punctuality, that’s all.
I did eventually get a new article, a story about last summer’s Celtic Fest – I suppose it’s intended to raise interest for this year’s festival – that mostly focused on a local athlete who’s good at throwing heavy things. There were a few paragraphs devoted to kilt-wearing and haggis, but the bulk of the article was about Harrison Bailey’s skill at tossing weights and logs, which I though was cool. Plus I found out that he’s a principal at an Easton high school, so now I’m jealous of those kids.
That was my entire workload for the day, though, so I spent the rest of the time reading (Tom Robbins’s “Villa Incognito”). After that, I had to hustle back to the mechanic before closing time – else I’d have to walk all the way home – and find my car; I’ve found that, with the lack of parking lots in that particular area of the North Side, my mechanic has a tendency to park my car several blocks away and not tell me where it is, resulting in an Easter egg hunt through a quiet residential area.
7/14
Today was another slow day. I proofread through a couple of things, but didn’t make any progress with the Celtic Fest story. And, as usual, I spent my downtime reading.
At several points during the day, one of the saleswomen, Deb, had to borrow my computer to check her e-mail; a virus or something had apparently gutted her computer. She said it would probably be easier if I moved to Carrie’s now-vacant office, but I couldn’t see fit to move all of my stuff across the building when I’d have to leave in just a couple of hours.
7/15
I was able to finish fact checking the Celtic Fest article this morning, but, for whatever reason, the two-day turnaround disappointed me. I guess the story was simple enough that I thought I could have it done much faster.
After lunch, Deb was using my computer again. This time, I did go ahead and move to Carrie’s office for the remainder of the afternoon. It turns out that I should’ve done this yesterday – there’s nothing quite like having a room to yourself. Plus there was the benefit of overhearing all the conversations from this side of the building. I was tempted to shut the door, but the many phone calls about a son stealing his grandmother’s money (including silver certificates and two-dollar bills) and his impending punishment were just too good to ignore.
I had an hour or so to get used to my new location, which translated to an hour of playing on Carrie’s iMac. Davy was visiting, and therefore everyone was in and out of meetings, so all I really had to do was answer the phone.
When Maureen had a break from her meetings – I had maybe an hour left at the office – she brought me the major article for the next issue. The article is about the implementation of electronic voting machines in the Lehigh Valley and, because of its timing and heavy nature, Maureen wants it to be fact checked and proofed within an inch of its life.
But, like I said, I only had an hour left, so I couldn’t really get started on it. Instead, I read through the article twice and attempted to make the list of who I would call when I started the fact-checking process. I was having trouble with this, though, so I was glad when Maureen told me that the writer had a list of contacts that she would send me next week.
When it came time to leave, everyone was in meetings again, so I sort of snuck out the door. I just hope no one went to my office looking for me.
7/20
Maureen came to talk to me soon after I came in this morning; she wanted to know if I’d be interested in working for the magazine as a proofreader if the opportunity should happen to arise. I said yes, of course – I’ll probably accept any job offer I ever receive that doesn’t involve the phrases “fact checking” or “nursing home.”
Seriously, though, Carrie will most likely be taking Maureen’s position at the end of the issue we’re working on now. When that happens, there will be no one to fill Carrie’s role, which is more or less that of a proofreader/copy editor, especially toward the end of each two-month cycle. Maureen is impressed enough with the work I’ve shown that she’s going to recommend me to Carrie as the second-to-last person to read through everything and make sure it’s publishable.
Of course there’s a possibility this won’t work out – Davy wants to bring in someone from Harrisburg Magazine to edit and proofread, so I might not have a job offer depending on what he does. But, if I do get the opportunity to stay at Lehigh Valley Magazine as a paid employee, I can’t see any reason not to take it – I would be able to quit working at Jazzman’s, finally.
Despite that this job is not set in stone, or even in, umm, wet cement, I smiled about it all morning.
And then, at the end of the day, Maureen brought me a bunch of stories to proofread! (The voting machine article has been delayed for the unforeseeable future, so there wasn’t much work to do for most of the day.)
7/21
Once again, Maureen came into my office (which is Carrie’s office, but I decided I am going to have it for the last week of my internship) in the morning and said that I might get to stay on as a paid employee. This time it was for the voting machine story. She’s got another intern lined up for the rest of the summer, but she’s not sure if he’s going to be any good, so she said she might want me to take care of this article because it’s more substantial than anything else going in the next issue. When she started asking how much I’d want to be paid, I had no idea what to say and just agreed to the $10/hour figure she threw out.
I guess if I’m going to offered money every morning from here out, I might want to stay at the magazine a little longer.
I did have plenty of things to work on, between some random fact-checking things I hadn’t been able to finish and the page proofs Maureen kept bringing me. I tried to focus on the fact checking, since I knew I could finish the other work whenever it was convenient for me.
It worked. I finished all of the fact checking just before I left at 1:30, and it was good to know I wouldn’t have to do any more of that for the rest of the summer – no more people to call on my days off, no more people to wait for calls from, just no more people and no more calls.
I left the office a very happy boy.
7/22
This morning I finished all of the proofreading I needed to do. Maureen brought me maybe one more page proof, and I was done with everything at lunchtime. (I noticed that my edits are getting tougher/more nitpicky/more confident. This is likely good.)
I needed to come back to Lehigh to run an errand, so I grabbed all of the file folders from the last issue so I could stop by Coppee and make copies while I was out. I did not realize, however, that it would take 45 minutes to make my copies, so I didn’t have time for lunch. But it didn’t matter, because Maureen ordered pizza in honor of my last day. So I got back to the office and had lunch with everyone; had a long, laid-back lunch; and then I didn’t really have work to get back to. Maureen thought she might get another story in time for me to take a look at it, but she didn’t.
Thus I was done with my internship.
Maureen let me leave early, but we had a talk before I left – a pep talk, if you will. She told me not to use Lehigh Valley as a judge of what the magazine industry was like, and regaled me with stories from her days working in Manhattan. It was certainly nice to listen to her talk, and in the span of 30 minutes she managed to make me like journalism again (I usually start hating it at the end of every semester and it takes me awhile to come to terms with the field).
Leaving the building was odd; I don’t think I’ve had a last day of anything since high school.
And now I’m done with my internship. Hurrah.
7/28
OK, I had lunch at Pistachio today because Maureen figured they should have lunch for everyone who had left or was planning to go. I knew it would be awkward, but I’m no one to turn down free, good lunch, so I went. I was quiet as usual, and quite put on the spot whenever someone asked me a question, and then I had to leave abruptly so I could go to work. So that’s a pretty good end to my magazine career, hummus and an eggplant sandwich.
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