Welcome back to Intern Horrors, and we're back with more stories of boneheadedness and bosses degrading their most under of underlings. Today: unintentional racial insensitivity strikes minor league baseball, naked Don Zimmer, and so much more. Do it to it.
Take it away Thomas:
My tale takes place in the summer of '95, when I converted years of slinging BBQ in the left field bleachers into a stint as a marketing intern for the San Jose Giants, a class A ball club in the Cal League. For the most part, it was a quality summer highlighted by: meet and greets with several top propects; acting as a personal liason for a day for Nolan Ryan as he was in town to watch his poo-slinging son get his tits lit; and the occasional phone number from an attractive groupie willing to settle for the baby faced bullshit salesman in dockers.
The summer reached a fine crescendo when I convinced the Sales/Mktg Director to let me produce a daily insert for the program, replete with stats, editorial content and a recap of the previous day's events. In all my wisdom, I made the brilliant decision to declare one player's three-strikeout day as his "induction into the Klan" based on his dubious K-K-K boxscore. Needless to say, my time as a writer for the club quickly ended when a furious storm of explatives laid waste to my meager office.
Although I shook off the unfortunate incident (as well as another that involved losing a girl I was dating to future superstar outfielder Greg Keifer), the year came to an inglorious end when the general manager decided I had been stealing from the ticket booth receipts, despite the apparently insignificant fact that I never worked in the ticket booth. Regardless, what should have been the beginning of a career in sports management instead ended with a failed sting operation, two cops and an illegal strip search. There is little doubt that any idea I had about becoming a lawyer began that day as I stood in that dingy storage room with my pants around my ankles for those crooked douchebags. I haven't stepped foot in that shithole since.
Oh, we've all been there. Three swinging strikeouts and all of a sudden, those Ks you brought to the game are sending the wrong message. Get a fourth strike out already, Kerry Wood!
DA brings us this story of a young man that doesn't understand the interview process:
A close friend works for a large, international company that manages arenas. A senior VP arranged to have a college kid interview for one of their marketing/PR internships with a sports team that is a tenant of the building. A good gig for an undergrad looking to get into sports marketing.
What follows is the contents of the follow-up email - identifying information changed to protect the innocent - which fairly describes what buttholes college kids can be if given the opportunity. I only wish I could be there when Daddy talks to his senior VP friend and learns of Junior's interview "skills".
"BOB & RHONDA,"
Just interviewed BUTTHOLE from STATE UNIVERSITY (per your request BOB) for our Marketing/PR/Sales Fall Internship-–
While I think he might be a good candidate for (A) Game Night Intern, (B) Stats Intern, or (C) IN HOUSE CREATIVE—I think he and I would agree he was not particularly interested in the Marketing/PR/Sales side of the organization—as he self admittedly discussed how he was not interested (or "good at") Sales and found it "tacky" and "cheesy".
We did discuss that it was his first interview ever-–and we noted some things he might improve upon for future interviews, ie: Study the website of the Team you are interviewing with (What League do the TEAM play for? How many home games do we have? What sport is it?), Bring an extra copy of your resume, Bring questions for the person you are interviewing with, and lastly, don't call "all" SPORT players "douche-bags" in the first minute of the interview.
As I said-–if you want to, RHONDA, relay to him that we would be happy to have him as Game Night intern, that would be appreciated-–but we will have to pass on him for the fall sales/marketing internship at this time–-
It is my understanding that "Game Night intern" is pretty much the ultimate of bitch-boy jobs (the t-shirt thrower out ranks you) and clearly just a bone being thrown to the VP to help him save some face for vouching for such a punk.
Oh, that's rough. I interviewed for a job on The Late Show once where I would have had to do a lot of promotions in Times Square and mentioned how I hated Times Square. Needless to say, they sent me a letter saying I would not be working for The Late Show.
Reading Brandy's story (last one) about burning 1000 dvds reminded me of my first co-op job as an intern at a software training company. For 4 hours every day i separated carbon copies of invoices. There were 4 layers. White was the invoice that got sent out (and yes, I got to stuff the envelopes). Yellow got filed away (I got to do this to). Green and Pink got thrown away. Why 4 layers? No one knew.
The idea of a software training company requiring that much paperwork and not, you know, doing most of it with QuickBooks or some shit is wonderful.
Finally, Greg would like to coyly tell the story of the time he saw an old man naked:
Before embarking on a career that has nothing to do with a journalism degree, I did a summer internship at a radio station in the Bay Area in the late 80's. I was studying sports broadcasting, so I was thrilled to cover the baseball teams. Well, after a Giants game, I head down to the locker room….a very nervous 19 year old having to deal with known media-haters like Will Clark, Jeff (sorry… Jeffrey) Leonard, and Kevin Mitchell. So I am in the scrum with my tape recorder getting quotes from Manager Roger Craig when…..emerging from the showers is a fat, ghostly white Don Zimmer. Naked as the day he was born.
Nothing has scarred me like seeing Zim naked. I could describe, but that would be gratuitous.
Goatse…2 girls 1 cup….Mr Hands…nothing will compare. 23 years later, and it's burned on my retinas.
You know what? Good for Zim. He's looked like a giant baby for most of his life. He deserves to make people uncomfortable with his wretched nudity.
Have you ever interned somewhere or interacted with interns and hi-jinx ensued? Perhaps you saw an MLB legend naked or had to deal with crank callers while on the late shift at a radio station. Send us your stories, we really want to hear them.