It’s the first day of the internship. All of the interns arrive at least 15 minutes early in freshly dry-cleaned suits and properly pressed blouses. Everyone, that is, except for the late intern.
Roll is called. Name tags are handed out. Orientation starts. Lunch approaches. Suddenly the door pops open — and in rushes the late intern.
The late intern’s fellow, more responsible interns murmur: Who is late on the very first day?
Maybe it was just a fluke, one bad morning. But as the summer wears on, that intern is always...late. Late for the official start of the work day. Late for brown bag lunches with top bosses. Late for happy hours. Late, late, late.
Note from Jenna: Today kicks off my second summer of a daily series called “That Intern.” Washington relies heavily on its often over-worked, underappreciated, misunderstood interns. But every intern class has “that intern” — as in, “Don’t be that intern.” Each day I introduce you to one of them. Help me out by sending ideas to firstname.lastname@example.org.
And while you are at it, check out the Post’s Intern City for tips on making the most of your internship.