Because I hate my semi-job.

Because Youtube and Wikipedia are King in the land of Bitchwork

2006-07-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

I truly believe that I could survive on a desert island with only a laptop that had an internet connection. So long as I could access Youtube and Wikipedia. I could learn how to survive. Wikipedia could teach me how certain foods are derived, and I could feed myself and it would be beautiful. And I could watch patchy re-runs of the Colbert Report and feed my spiritual belly.

Unfortunately, I'm not on a desert island. I'm in a cubicle. And all three of my bosses wander the floor at random points in the day.

Nevertheless, these two websites are vital to the survival of my sanity.

I don't really know what else to say right now.

My boss is on vacation this week. I'm too ecstatic to write anything negative right now. Wait a week, and I promise I'll bitch about something in a very biting way.

-InternX

Because you gotta do what you gotta do, kid.

2006-07-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

It's Motherfucking GAME TIME, baby.

It's Thursday Night. That night has a capital "N" for a reason. The N is for naked. Which you expect to be. By the end of the Night.

You've had a rough half week of work. You've earned it, buddy.

So you go to work. Your dress shirt, is your party shirt. You're ready to ball out, bitch. Fuck yeah.

You bring a bag with a change of clothes, because you're ready to crash someone's place over the night. Hopefully a random stranger that you know you won't contract an STD from, because she listens to Ozma too, and that probably makes her perfectly legit. (It doesn't.)

On the way to the club, they can tell by the way you use your walk, you're a woman's man, no time to talk. Except with your buddies, who, in their equally wannabe-yuppie selves, are also in nice work clothes. This ain't high school anymore, nigga. You ain't shit now without a company ID.

Remember this equation: (Name Recognition of Company X Amount of Gel in Your Hair)/Physical Imperfections = Percent of Shallow Pussy at the Club that will sleep with you.

Awesome. So you're ready to part the seas. But wait! You forgot to get drunk. Move back two spaces, to a friend's apartment.

After your long day of being a bitch, it's time for you to be king! Drink up. Forget your sorrows, and be the ALPHA MALE for once in your miserable life. Take shot after shot, screaming "AIN'T NO BITCH SHIT NO WHERE HERE DAWG!". After an awkward silence, verbally assault the smallest guy in the room. (If you ARE the smallest guy, physically assault the smallest girl in the room)

So you are drunk. You're in a suit. You're pretending you make more than you actually do. And you're ready to basically date-rape a bitch, but it's okay, because you're not a scumbag at all, your friends have told you that. It's totally alright. Consensual under any influences is still consensual.

UH OH. Do not pass go, do not collect ass. It turns out that the club is full of like-minded individuals. Also known as predators, like yourself. There is exactly a 3-1 guy-girl ratio, and those girls happen to be busted beyond repair.

And they have a heightened sense of self-confidence because well. Desperation kicks in after a long week of work, and a longer week of pussy anticipation. Or as I like to call it. Pussipitation. Yeah. That doesn't make too much sense.

Anyway. Time to do what you gotta do.

JAGER BOMBS FUCK YEAHH!!!!!

. . .

And so you wake up in the lobby of a 14th street apartment building, with puke and bloodstains all over your party shirt.

You still have your bag with your clothing, but your friends thought it would be funny if they took a shit in it.

You decide the shirt that OJ wore when he used to settle domestic problems is better than your literally piece of shit shirt.

And the fellow interns notice how completely miserable you are when you come into work. Your boss, as usual, doesn't really give a shit. So that's cool.

They notice that you smell like shit, you look like shit, and chances are, that's a jizz stain on your pants. On the ass side, no less.

They ask you how your night was.

"Fucking Thursday night man. It was fucking off the hook!"

Your fellow interns realize how much of a lie that is, but patronize you anyway. Lose your dignity.

And that is why taking that job has ruined your fucking life. Game over, asshole. Game over.

-InternX

Because this is how to get where you need to be

2006-06-26T20:23:00.000-07:00

Trains. Busses.

Fucking public transportation.

That's how you get to work. Why? Because you're a wannabe yuppie that could never afford cab rides, or a car to waste your time getting to the city with.

I hate public transportation.

This is what you need to know about public transportation. It sucks, it's crowded, and everyone hates everyone else.

Public transportation has somehow made handicap people into antagonists. That's how evil it is. And powerful, for you cannot say that you do not get annoyed at the wheelchaired person who needs to get on the bus. I realize this statement may qualify me to go to hell by itself, but I cannot help it. I am a truthsayer.

Public transportation has made me become all sorts of racist. (To be fair, equally amongst every race, including my own.) It has made me hate the elderly. It has made me hate the greasy. It has made me hate bums.

I hate hating all these things, but alas, I cannot help it. For public transportation has done this to me.

The only redeeming part of public transportation is that on occasion, an attractive female, or group of females will appear. However, since it's public transportation, any attempt at communicating/checking out will be officially creepy.

True story:

I saw this old man on the bus the other day. He was shaking his leg, and I was like. Meh, whatever. Then I hear him say "Oh, that's such a great book." Which is weird, because I didn't see him get on the bus with anyone. Anyway, the person he says it to is this 15 year old girl who is reading The Da Vinci Code. Wow.

She responds: "Uh... yeah, it's not bad," in a fashion that would suggest that she doesn't want to really talk to him, or even have him look at her.

He presses on. "Did you see the movie? I didn't see the movie, but I heard it wasn't as good as the book. You should read the book before you see the movie."

She's creeped out. And rightfully so. She just chuckles, nervously. And then says "yeaaaahhhhhh..."

The old man actually thinks he's making a connection with this little girl. I can see him practically licking his lips in delight. He is a predator. He's the man, homie. Look at him.

So the girl leaves the bus, and the guy smiles to himself. I am grossed out after I realize he will probably masturbate to this incident when he gets home. Because that's what I would do if I was an old pervert. Which I am not, yet.

Anyway.

That is why public transportation really pisses me off.

And bum piss smells like. Well, bum piss.

-InternX

Because this is why you need me.

2006-06-25T21:18:00.000-07:00

The following is a speech you must give to your self in the mirror, to truly know the power of an intern. P.S. Just because you're pretending to tell your boss off in the mirror, doesn't make it any less valid. It just makes you a pussy.

I am an asset to this company. You need me, baby! You fucking need me. I am the motherfucking ill-ass intern. I am more important than you and your bosses asses combined. You know why? Because I do the dirty work.

That's right. You may make all the "decisions" but I AM THE FOUNDATION. I may be at the bottom of the barrel. But guess what, if the bottom's gone . . . well, I kind of forgot where I was going with this analogy. Fuck you.

You need me. Your wife needs me. Your family needs me. Your whole existence completely depends on me. For one simple reason:

I could burn this motherfucker down to the ground.

That's right. All employee and client records. BOOM. Gone. You NEED me to not fuck up shit. I am the ill-ass motherfucking intern.

And sure, I would get fired and arrested. But it would suck for you guys. And sure, insurance might cover up for the actual fire... but it'll take tons of manpower to just get everything back running again.

Now seriously, would you want to go through all that trouble?

Or would you rather just give me a five dollar raise?

At this point, if your boss is calling security, it's your right. No. Your duty, to make sure that he's calling security for a good reason. If your boss is male, a swift kick to the sack of life should do the trick. If she's a woman, find her boss, or boss's boss, or boss's boss's boss, or as many people as it takes to to get to a man, or better yet, THE MAN. And then swiftly kick him in the crotch.

Do what's right for the company. No. Do what's right for the country.

Let freedom ring. (and by freedom, I mean pure and evil greed disguised as competitive business practice. and by ring, i mean spread throughout the world, exploiting armless kids and shit. whatever. U-S-A! U-S-A!)

-InternX

Because this is how we dooo ittt (this is how we do it, do it)

2006-06-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

Lunch breaks.

They're a beautiful thing. You can dine with a friend. You can dine with co-workers, and improve relationships with them. You can pick up food and bring it back really quickly, and make it seem like you're a hard worker, but instead just zone out for an amount of time that's longer than your normal lunch break would've been anyway.

You DO NOT make it seem like you've taken more than 20 minutes. Ever. Aspiring interns, you must be asking, "How? How InternX? How can you make time disappear like that? HOW ARE YOU SO MAGICAL?"

The trick is, to loudly (and loudly is a key word here) announce to your boss that you're going to the bathroom. No joke. It's so simple it's almost offensive.

"Where did InternX go!? Why isn't he at his desk putting on these cover sheets for those TPS reports?"

"Uh... boss, he's went to the bathroom."

"Oh, well then. BACK TO WORK SLAVES."

And like that, your ass is covered.

The beauty of this is that when you DO come back, it'll seem like you never took a lunch break at all. And this can be $$$$ if you don't get a paid lunch (and being a little bitch intern, you probably don't).

Just don't be this guy: Not a dumbass or a douchebag by any means. Just careless.

And that's the end of that chapter.

Also, I don't know how much this would work, but based on my amazing intern intuition. or as i like to call it, internuition...ish, if you're a girl, coming back crying from a 3-4 hour lunch has to be like, a get-out-of-jail-free card.

-InternX

Because BLARHGHGHGHGH

2006-06-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a splurge of random annoyances/thought.

I am a 9-5, Monday through Friday intern. I get paid enough to possibly feed myself everyday, including weekends. I used to think I was the man in high school homie, now look at me. I'm sucking dick for crack. Well. Not exactly.

Crack would be so much more satisfying.

What annoys me most about all of this is that I am an Asian American Studies major. That's right. I am slowly chipping away fragments of my identity for you. Why am I in an Investment Banking firm?

The only joy, I truly receive out of this job, outside of the bullshit websurfing I do all day, is this: I know some cock-sucking finance major didn't get a job because of me. I successfully slowed down one douchebag in life, and that makes me happy.

I suppose I'm still young. But that's the worst part of it.

When real life strikes. Then BOOM, it's like, you're a bitch for life, gradually trying to unbitch yourself, slowly, pathologically treating your underlings like bitches.

This is not the way life was meant to be.

Interns are a monster, created by the society of man. How artificial is the structure of this world, that it has a being known as the intern? Office politics, why does that even exist? What happened to good ol' hunting/gathering/eating/fucking/sleeping? I bet cavemen never had to file SHIT. Except maybe for their clubs, but even then, they probably just left that shit on the floor. Why put it away if you're just going to use it again anyway?

Fuck man. And what kind of dumbass caveman would work 9-5 just to make sure that some guy all the way at the top gets rich doing nothing?

Damn. Our society has become idiotic. I'd almost prefer anarchy, if it wasn't for the fact that I'd be afraid of getting buttraped by someone that could just overpower me, in a literal sense. Instead I'm getting done up the same way in the business world.

-Intern X

Because this is who they are

2006-06-10T18:06:00.000-07:00

To be perfectly honest, I've kind of been blessed in terms of who my co-workers are right now. Most people seem to be genuinely nice. However, I feel that I can still profile some types of people, which appear in every work environment. And as an intern, you'll have a head start in the game by knowing this! Hooray!

First, to get it over with, your boss/supervisor, his/her boss/supervisor, and so on. These people can be great people outside of work. They may even be nice to you during work. But make no mistake. They earned their position so that they could pretend that people like you don't exist. It's the terrible chain of business. But it must be done.

Oh, and whoever's in charge of the entire floor, or a higher-up will always expect you to be amazed when they know your name. It's like they're showing off how every-man they are by blessing you with a proper name calling. And it's even worse when they call you by the wrong name. Because you can't correct them. It's a lose-lose.

And of course there's:

The old guy who thinks he's young, so he hangs out with the interns, and uses "hip" lingo, but can't hide the fact that he's just a balding middle aged man that can only live out his fantasies online with his handle "toocoolforschool56" or "marriedbutlooking62" or "ISwearImNotAPedophile69" (in which case you can only hope he was born in 1969). Expect this guy to get arrested at some point. Unless he's a higher up. Then he'll be getting allllll the young hos.

The hot-ass woman who's in her mid 20s who is unfortunately engaged. WHY? HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU! HE LOVES THE IDEA OF YOU: THE IDEA OF A HOT-ASS WOMAN WHO'S IN HER MID 20s. She generally makes you sad about life. But if you stay with the company for, say. 35 more years, you can hit that. Fuck yeah. Snakes on a mothafuckin plane.

Jolly young fat guy. In some cases, a bitter young fat guy, or a pompous young fat guy. Either way, there's going to be a fat guy in your office. Can't do anything about it. Not just chubby either. Obese. The guy that looks gross in his undersized clothing. The man that makes you hate casual Fridays. At least the jolly ones offer the last donut though.

Pregnant Woman. I don't really have anything comical to say about this. I hope everything works out, and she raises up a wonderful daughter. That is hot. Then once I make my rise from Intern to CEO, it's good game. (Note: at the risk of pointing out the obvious, I just want to make it clear that the 'good game' is in reference to 'hardcore sex'. I'm aware that I'm speaking of an unborn child... but to be fair, it'll be on her 18th birthday, so it's all good in the neighborhood, homie).

And the other interns.

Oh god, the other interns.

There are nice interns, actually. If they work with you, they'll definitely be great. They'll show you around, have nice chats, avoid work, go fishing in the paperclip pond. That kind of thing. Your co-working interns for the most part are awesome.

But then there are the others. The interns that work in different departments. Especially accounting, and summer analysts.

These are THE most pompous motherfuckers in the world. Seriously, they are motherfuckers. Like, they are so stuck up on themselves because their moms use to praise their asses all the time, and they developed Oedipus complexes. Like seriously, these are the worst people in the world. And they will be your future bosses. Yay.

Ohhh, you thought I was going to stop ranting about the summer analysts after that paragraph didn't you? No, my hatred for them cannot be expressed within a single paragraph. They wear suits that cost more than their monthly salaries. These motherfuckers are the most condescending people you will ever fucking meet. Ever. They all rep top 20 schools, and don't mind comparing titles. These are your future Kenneth Lays, Oprah Winfreys, Warren Buffetts, Rupert Murdoch's, and other people who could totally kill your asses at their whim.

But fuck that, do not go down that road. DO NOT BECOME THE COCKY INTERN. Remember, they reach. You teach. So in a way. You're like a superstar that doesn't have to weasel his way through life. You're Michael Jordan, baby. It doesn't matter. Anyway, enough ranting about that. On a final note:

Fuck you, Summer Analysts. I will wait for you to have children. Then I will fuck your daughters. Then I will marry their asses, and make you support me for the rest of your miserable life. Then you'll wish you could be the balding old dude.

I don't have anything planned for next time, yet. I'm just that angry.

-Intern X

Because this is how I do.

2006-06-08T19:08:00.000-07:00

So you're a new intern. It's your first day at the office. You're overdressed, overhyped, overexcited, and overerect. You don't know what to expect. You kind of hope you can handle the work they give you. I remember asking myself, "I hope this job won't be too difficult. I don't want to seem like a dumbass."

Don't worry about anything. No matter what department you're in, you will invariably be put into a place where you're stuck with files. Stacks and stacks of files and folders that seem to exist for no real reason. Your task is to a) re-arrange, b) put together c) take apart said files and folders. You're working diligently. You report to your boss when you've finished your job. You smile proudly at your work. Unfortunately, your boss dislikes smiles, and then gives you more work.

This is when you learn that the less work you do, the better. But how can you look like you're doing work, without doing work? And more importantly, you should be asking yourself: How can I make not-working fun?

Fortunately, I have the answers. In list format.

The File Shuffle: Simple technique. Not that fun, but to be fair, it gets people off your ass for a while. Basically, you take about 4 or 5 folders, and you keep rearranging them, bottom up. The trick is to look intently at each file for about 5-10 seconds before each rearrangement.

Why this is effective: Well, since you are a worthless intern, higher-ups, and even your direct supervisor won't really give a shit about you. They just want to make sure that you're not wasting company money/time. And they gauge this by the amount of movement/unhappiness you have. Recommended for beginners.

The Sing-Along: This should only be possible for those of you that are allowed to listen to your ipods during work. Put on your favorite playlist. Pretend to be reading off memos or whatnot, with a questioned look on your face, while just mouthing off lyrics. Bonus: Let your co-workers see you lip-syncing "Hold your hands high niggas, here's the battle cry for all my niggas" And if they give you a confused look, just smile. That's true baller status.

Why this is effective: It gives you something to do. And yeah. You can show your true gangstah. Recommended for wiggers.

The Paperclip Pond: Undoubtedly, you will have collected hundreds, if not thousands of paperclips after your first couple of days in the file room. Never throw these away, they can end up being your only means of retaining your sanity. What do you do? Well, out of the pond, take about 3 or 4 paperclips. Use these clips to create a hook, a line, and a rod. After that, aim for colored paperclips.

Why this is effective: No one in your office will think that anyone is retarded enough to actually play this game. Recommended for interns that get a lot of paperclips/the clinically insane.

High Hi-Lite Art: In an office where you may have eyes on you, doodling isn't nearly as easy as it was in high school. Fortunately, a great man created the Hi-Liter. And I just realized that Hi-Liter shares an unusually high number of letters with Hitler. So maybe that man wasn't so great. Anyway, whatever. Be sure to draw with hi-liters only. And color only in straight lines. Deep deep strokes. When you're done, bring your nose to your masterpiece, and sniff to your heart's content.

Why this is effective: Highlighting is important when dealing with bitchwork. You'll never be suspected of doing something non-work related when you scribble away diligently with your hi-liter. It's even easier if you're drawing on a cardboard box. Heil Hi-Liter! Recommended for: Kids who used to eat glue in elementary school. You fucking idiots.

Well, that's enough for today kids.

The next lesson? The who's who, and how to deal with other interns.

-Intern X

Because this is who I am.

2006-06-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

Whoever sees this blog may be wondering (but probably not really): Who is Intern X? Why does he use such a whack pen name? What is the point of this blog?

Well, let me start off by answering the second question. BAM. Answered.

What is the point of this blog? Well. It's to basically ramble about work without having to worry about. Well, the above point. Also to teach future interns the tricks of the trade. The trade being bitchwork. Total, and utter bitchwork.

And me? Well. I'm the lowliest of the lowest interns for a Fortune 500 company. I've had this job for a while now. And things don't look like they're going up. I have the battlescars which come along with that job, such as papercuts and the loss of self-dignity. Seriously. I feel like I'm pledging. Except I receive less anal sex, I guess. So I guess being an intern isn't as bad as being a frat guy.

Anyway. That was the introductory post. There.

Next? Tips on how to pass time in the file room.

-Intern X