The Intangibles

I should have known when I was asked my height and how much I could bench press that my real title would be "office muscle," not marketing project intern.

There are certain things that cannot be conveyed on a resume like body measurements, ability to boost office morale or to think quickly and solve problems. In my first two days interning I believe I have given a glimpse of my potential for greatness.
First, however, we'll need to discard the story of how I jammed the copier in my first hours on the job. Sabotage?

My fringe skill set that can't be conveyed on card stock was first displayed when I was asked to grab a binder from a high shelf. This is nothing new for me as honorary member of the Cincinnati Shrine Circus. At least once a month some hag, I mean sweet old lady who confused moth balls for perfume, asks me to get her the jar of pickles on the top shelf at the grocery. I love pickles as much as the next guy, but do the geriatrics think this preserved cucumber has magical properties?

My other strong showing came yesterday with the shuttling of several heavy boxes filled with festival guides. The boxes needed to be sent to various arts outlets in the city. A glut of the boxes were in the conference room and needed to be in the vicinity of the reception area for the messenger service. After lifting two heavy boxes, I used my brain.

I loaded a wheeled chair with three boxes and slid the chair to the front. Brains over brawn. Every day. This saved not only time but precious back muscles. While I do trust that my pilates regimen has been doing wonders to strengthen my lower back, I save all the energy I can. I also saved the company from potential workman comp claims for physical therapy which could have reached tens of dollars.

So, future employers (whoever you might be), when you hire me and give me the sweet corner office and keys to the corporate bathroom remember that you are getting more than a sometimes hard worker with diverse experience, and more than the experience listed on my resume. You are getting all the intangibles.

Is that you quasi-employment?

Tomorrow marks the start of my third internship.

Tuesday marks the start of my fourth internship.

Somewhere in between 8:30 a.m. Monday on the train and 6 p.m.-ish on the train home Tuesday I will likely question the purpose of my life. Both internships are unpaid, but cover travel expenses. One will be marketing and PR work and the other will be video editing and production for a comedy theater in the city.

Beyond the main issue of not having a permanent job, these internships signal the end to a style of life. I was getting accustomed to looking for jobs all day. I didn't say I liked that style of life.

I am an anti-shaving, anti-socks, anti-belt, shorts-wearing kind of guy. This doesn't always mesh with corporate America. I suppose they'll want me to shower on a regular basis too. When does it end? I will not be molded. Lots of people talk about settling into a career, but I need to draw the line somewhere.

In reality, I am looking forward to these opportunities. I am always looking for more material and I am pretty sure people don't like hearing about the job I saw on Craigslist. Now, I'll have something to talk about on the phone beyond that crazed squirrel in my backyard that thinks it's a cat. And there's always the hope of an office romance. For the record, I have nothing against cougars...as long as they can provide the lifestyle to which I am accustomed and deserve--four square meals and cable television.

Yeah Mondays.

Missing: HUGE Whale

Please post this flier at local beaches and underwater oases. This story is very upsetting. I hope things work out for baby Colin.

For the video from Australia...

Settling

Perchance Mount Isa is the paper bag capital of Australia or even the world.

My love grows more and more for Australia with each story I read about the happenings in Oz. The latest comes from the Times Online.

John Molony, the mayor of Mount Isa in northern Queensland, suggested to the Townsville Bulletin newspaper:

“If there are five blokes to every girl, we should find out where there are beauty-disadvantaged women and ask them to proceed to Mount Isa. Quite often you will see walking down the street a lass who is not so attractive with a wide smile on her face. Whether it is recollection of something previous, or anticipation for the next evening, there is a degree of happiness.” He added: “Often those who are beauty-disadvantaged are unhappy with their lot. Some, in other places in Australia, need to proceed to Mount Isa, where happiness awaits. And, really, beauty is only skin deep. Isn’t there a fairy tale about an ugly duckling that evolves into a beautiful swan?”

Since my secondary plan for my trip to Oz involves the search for a wife, this story has proved beneficial in informing me of the apparent lack of lasses in Queensland. The ladies of the town, of which there are suspiciously no pictures in the story, have naturally taken to protesting this disparaging view of their Aussie sisters by the mayor. He will not back down. Clearly the town is in need of some objective judgment. Therefore, I submit my application to deem whether Mount Isa women are fuglier than other cities. This will be exhausting work, but I've been training for this all my life.

The story continues:

One 26-year-old man described the town as the “beer goggles capital of Australia” because the male population was not at all choosy when it came to the opposite sex. Paul Woodlands, 25, a builder, told the Townsville Bulletin: “There’s definitely a lack of beautiful women. Blokes are not as picky - you take what you can get.”

The Ribbon is Our Bitch

Olympic Greatness:


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