After Years in the Shadows, the Intern Speaks
He was never hired. He was never paid. He still showed up anyway.
The first time I was blamed for something, I didn't exist yet. That's the thing people don't understand about being the Intern. The blame arrives before you do. It waits for you, like a desk with someone else's gum under it.
The early years
I want to be fair to my former employers. They gave me opportunities. They gave me responsibility. They gave me the password to the company Twitter account, then changed it, then told clients I'd been "let go," then brought me back the next week.
"Ask the Intern." It was the most-said sentence in that office, and not once did anyone actually ask me.
The coffee question
Let's address it. On a Tuesday in what sources describe as "a rough quarter," the last of the good coffee disappeared. Four people were in the office. Three of them said it was me. I was not, at that time, in the office. I was out on assignment in Ukraine.
This publication reached out to the French press for comment. It did not respond.
What's next
Independent. Unpaid, still, but now on my own terms. If you have a story, I'd like to hear it. If you have a job, I'd like to hear about that even more.