adult messes (Part 2)

This is my first internship - and it has been quite the experience. For possible incriminating purposes, we'll refer to it as the Big House. Not to be confused with a prison sentence, it is certainly more freeing than that - like, we get half hour lunch breaks and there is a window I can look out of when I feel the need to get up and walk around every five seconds.

Ha. Just kidding.

It's actually the most lenient place I've ever worked. Let's start with my project coordinator, Sarah. She is completely and utterly 8 months pregnant. Now I didn't have the pleasure of meeting her before she got pregnant, but man, I think the baby has stripped her of all rationale. This is not a bad thing, in fact, I think it's quite hilarious.

Ben, the guy in the cubicle next to me, is her go-to person for everything. Ben kind of hates his job with the Big House, and has been there for 3 years, but continues to stay on because Sarah will knock his teeth in if he gives her any slack. I would kind of like to see this. But anyway, this is the conversation I eavesdropped on the other day:

Sarah: *Walks into Ben's cubicle, barefoot and holding her very round stomach* Ben, I need so-and-so's number to chew him out about this so-and-so project. And do you have any chocolate?
 Ben: Here's the number for-
Sarah: Yeah, okay, so do you have any chocolate or not?
Ben: Do I look like I eat chocolate?
Sarah: Let's go get some chocolate.
Ben: Okay, but let me-
Sarah: Now, Ben. We need to leave now.
Ben: Yes, Ma'm.
Aeriale: I like dark chocolate. Like 80 percent cacao. I just wanted to throw that out there.
Sarah: *Pops head around the corner of my cubicle* Yeah, okay, we'll pick you up some, too.
Ben: *Puts jacket on and rounds the corner* You going to put shoes on or am I going to try and piggy-back your ass?
Sarah: No, no, I need the number for so-and-so. Sit back down and get me that number. I'll wait.
Aeriale: I can get the chocolate. I found Trader Joe's yesterday on my lunch break!
Sarah and Ben: *Sigh* Interns.

Needless to say, no chocolate was bought. This is Sarah's constant thought process. I'm not lying when I say that for the past two weeks, I have no idea what I've been doing. She is incredibly flippant with her decisions and one thing never leads to another. Nothing really ever makes sense.

Then there's John, my cubicle-mate. He is another intern that started the week before I came, and he is absolutely hilarious. He is this fiery red-head with a bushy red beard that he consciously, constantly strokes. He just finished his senior year in college, and is not sure what he wants to do in the CJ field either. We are in the same boat.

So, Friday, while we were sitting there pretending to be busy, I pumped out an essay that is due Sunday. Fortunately, I work for a non-profit organization that serves Police Chiefs from all over the world. Unfortunately, my essay was all about domestic terrorist organizations. So there I am, overloading my browsing history with animal rights' terrorist sites that demonstrate how to carry out a professional bombing on fur factories and butcher shops. Pictures pop up with people in masks holding lambs and wielding knives. I snort out laughter, which is most certainly inappropriate but I can't hold it in. These people are ridiculous.

This catches John's attention, and he wheels his chair over to me and raises his eyebrows.

John: I definitely took you for an animal-lover when you sat down and gushed over your cat for the last week, but car bombs? Damn girl! *Strokes beard*
Aeriale: Well, hey, how else am I going to save those who cannot speak for themselves?
John: Maybe you can start by showing me your mask. I think I want to be an investigator. This looks like something I can put on my resume.
Aeriale: Well, of course. We call ourselves ALF. After the thing that has a weird nose...you know, before our time. We like to keep it old school.
Ben: *Wheels his chair into our cubicle* Hey, cut it out kiddies. I just got off the phone with the FBI. Now hurry up and give me a mask. Let Sarah deal with the dark side of law enforcement.

Needless to say, I somehow finished my essay between the ridiculous conversations and feeding my bottomless stomach. Since I walk almost 45 minutes to work everyday (not including the 30 minute Metro ride to Alexandria), I basically starve all day. My lunch bag is like a clown car. I just keep bringing food out every hour on the hour and John shakes his head at my endless hunger. I swear it's gotten worse since I've moved here. But that's another story for another post.