This Intern’s Life: by Jennifer Shenouda

Week One: A Kidnapping at Lunchtime

I jump started my search for the holy quill (a.k.a. month and a half internship) at 8:59 am sharp, Monday, July 9. I was dropped off right in front of The Chronicle/ Cités Nouvelles complex with my paper lunch baggie in hand (very un-green, I know). As I stepped into the office I was whisked away to the intern’s desk and shook hands with the larger than life news director, Marc Lalonde. He informed me in one breath that I was early (by a minute) and that I could sit next to Elyse Amend for

protection. Protection, I thought, are we secret government agents?

But no! He just thought it was wise if I kept my distance from gaming columnist and reporter Raffy Boudjikanian, lest he infect me with his flair for constant alliteration and my head explode (check out Raffy’s QCNA certificate of excellence for Best Headline Writing). The ever so humble Raffy reminds me, “I only got a 3rd place award.”

The first morning was a blur of boardrooms and bathroom codes; I needed to punch a pin seven times before I was let into the lavatory. I had nightmares that I’d get locked in the bathroom all night and miss the chance to write my first article. Instead, something far more outlandish happened: I WAS KIDNAPPED by the editor Albert Kramberger and his henchmen of reporters. Kidnapped for lunch at Score’s Rotisserie,

where I was forced to eat chicken and threatened banishment from our table, when I ate my soup after the main course. By late afternoon my resolve to seem normal in front of these professional, yet clearly zany new colleagues, had crumbled. So I did what any self-respecting intern would do on the first day; I took an unofficial coffee break. Only there were no mugs in the cafeteria and I hadn’t thought of bringing my own cup on the first day (lest I appear too settled in my new environment, being an intern and all.) So this dilemma necessitated a monumental decision, would I risk drinking out of the only thing in the cupboard that faintly resembled a coffee mug or go caffeine free? All in favour of the former, circle answer A on the multiple choice test that is life.

If you’re wondering how I got the nick name Jar-iffer, then you just have to check out the Mason jar I have parked on my desk that I actually downed my afternoon house blend coffee in that day. Needless to say I have my own tasse de Café now, and have switched over to the darkest blend in the office, Eclipse.

Thursday was all about the Tao, General Tao that is. This summer the West Island

Chronicle is publishing a number of “Best of the West” articles. Every week we feature a new “best of” for our readers to go and check out. Our July 16 edition was the best of General Tao chicken. All I can say on the matter is that it’s one thing to read about General Tao, yet it’s quite another to taste test six different varieties in under an hour for research purposes.

On Thursday night I frequented a play I had to review, so on Friday all I did was type and work, type and work. No story there.

Well, that’s it for now. I’m just a little old intern in a big old newspaper world “The voice of Montreal’s West Island since 1925” trying to fuddle my way through archives, booking an interview or two, and perfecting my mantra. By the way my mantra for the week is: Internships and random acts of hubris do not mix well.