Wednesday, 19 March 2008

N00b Intern scum!

Flogging demonstration at Folsom Street Fair 2...Image via Wikipedia
Another day of work experience. Waking up early, rubbing optic snot from the corners of my weary dried out eyes and pushing my way through the crowds of commuters and surly, self righteous European women so I can get to work like everyone else. Not quite like everyone else, most people at least get a slave’s wage. We, the work experience generation, with so much to lose, so much to gain, will work for as long as possible for free in the hope of securing a job in one of the industries that ill informed media graduates believe are more glamorous than the professions our parents pursued at this age. 

Why do we do it? Is it because we are essentially the new slave class? Or are we fortunate to have any opportunity to work in a profession we have little to no understanding of? Probably. So bending over and taking it when required are top of the good little intern’s code of conduct. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so judgmental of the institutions who have given me a break in a cold and cruel industry. Counting my blessings is by no means my strong point. I admit if I was the editor in chief of a similar publication, I would screw those snot nosed graduates for all I could. "Work for free you scum, lest you feel the searing welts of the cat o' nine tails 'cross your protruding ribs!" Ah, the glory of hierarchical sadism, nothing can make a man more certain of his identity. How can I resent my masters for that?
But wait! Before I go down a weird path of obsequious sado-masochism, I feel it necessary to point out that there could be a more sinister motive for the work experience scam than merely counting the pennies and taking pleasure in the suffering of your subordinates. What if it’s a means of keeping out the riff raff? I can only afford to work in London for free as a result of fortunate coincidental circumstance and my socio-economic back ground. I get to kip in a relative’s house and eat their food. If I didn’t have this privilege there is no doubt that I would not be able to afford to come anywhere near London. A piece of provincial shit with a mountain of student debt is unlikely to get a bank loan for the purpose of working for free, for an indeterminate amount of time, for a reward that may never be delivered. It seems obvious that anyone willing to run the work experience gauntlet of the big media industries has to have the money to do so. That, or they have to be a gambler with balls of steel. I have neither, so whether I make anything of myself has yet to be seen.

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