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3:21 p.m. - 2005-07-29
haunted by childhood
So I just interviewed this woman who sent me a letter saying she'd like to be my next intern. I could tell from her resume that she was older than me. I thought baout it beforehand, thinking it might be a little odd to have an older intern. It's happened before...everyone in Seattle remember Ashley, my temporary friend? But she was like 1.5 years older than me. This woman, I figured was about 10 years older. When I met her and we talked I found out she's almost exactly 20 years older. She was a "non-traditional" student who went back to school for her master's recently...and she's got about 25 years experience in HR. OK, I decide...it's not a big deal. She's going to be working on some real projects, not making coffee or stapling papers like my intern from Japan did...I mean, my second intern from Japan. Has anyone had more interns that I have?? I think it's somewhere around 11 now.

So we chat, we have lunch...we talk about how her internship might be structured. She looks at me intently at one point.

"I think I know you from somewhere," she says.

A few moments of us naming things and asking things like did you sit on the board for blah-biddy-blah-blah....and her eyes widen and she smiles with triumphant recognition.

"I know your parents, Ginny and Wayne. I held you when you were a baby."

Good grief. Just when I start to forage into Real Professional Land in the Mon Valley....my intern has seen me in fucking diapers.

As if this is not bad enough, I am sitting, interviewing her in a local restaurant when two older (60s) women saunter over to me joyfully. It's my high school english teacher and another teacher from the building who I had some extracurricular activities with. They gush about seeing my articles in the paper and this and that....saying how they remembered me in 7th grade.....oi vey!

PEOPLE, I am TRYING to establish myself here! Next thing I know, my father is going to come out from around the corner to cut my steak for me and my mother is going to come by the table to recount to everyone how exciting it was when I first told her I wanted to ditch the diapers and wear "big-girl pants."

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