Darwin Didn't Intern

Here at DETAILS Magazine, it's Power Week, and we're working on the Power Issue. "Very excitinggg!" says Ryan - he's our flamboyant fashion intern.

Well, okay, Ryan, but what about me? I'm just a postman. I deliver mail and make copies. I work from a copier in a closet. What will I do? How will I feel? I ask myself these questions. I just don't know.

But today, I got some answers.

The following is based on a true story.

At 10:02, Momma Andrea addressed the interns in order to explain the situation. "It's going to get crazy," she said, and prefaced the following with a sigh: "People will grab you to do things." (Well, hey, I thought, I love being grabbed!) "You must remain calm." (No problem - I smoke weed!) "You must remain organized." (Have you seen my room?) "People will want coffee." (Yeah? One lump or two?) Translation: Piece of cake, I'm ready, BRING - IT - ON!

She then told us that Alex (who I suspect to be illiterate) was spearheading the project and would be in contact with us via email. "He's your man." She then walked away. So we sat at our computers accordingly, and waited for an email from Alex...

A few minutes pass. My login times out. Alex comes in! I smile. He frowns. He sits. He emails! I log in. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I check my mail - nothing? Tim checks his and clasps his hands together. A message from Alex!

What? No message for me? I continue checking my mail: Ticket Central, spam, Daily Horoscope, spam, spam, Daily Horoscope, E-Card, and an assortment of subscription porn - the usual.

WTF? Did it lose its way in cyberspace or did Alex leave me hanging? I didn't know.

I began to think that Alex was holding something against me. He got beef? Tastes tangy and cold - the worst kind. Had I not been satisfying him in the way he needed most? The way I organize his mail? The way I print the gossips? Does he not like my gossips?

I didn't know. I did organize his magazines for him once. He told me to "cannibalize" them, I remember. Maybe he meant eat them, not order them?

Who knows! All I know is that I'm more than qualified to handle this job, and I'm stuck delivering mail. Survival of the Fittest, isn't that what Darwin said? Well, fuck that. Darwin didn't intern!

And so to make a long story short, which Darwin did do, someone else emailed me and gave me a creative project. Survival of the One-Who-Waits-For-Katie-To-Email-Him-Once-He-Has-Already-Left-Work - that's what I'll call it. Yeah!