salience
March 30, 2007
The thing about interns is, I remember being one. Many times. GE, BC Oranizational Behavior, Ascend, Watermill. And then all of the afternoons with el papa at his offices. Back before he had to return to work for someone else, before the divorce. And I remember watching the workings of each business with wide eyes and being annoyed that I had very little impact on the daily operations of a financial machine. I'd get antsy, ready to be more than an intern, a student, and working.
(There isn't much that gives me more satisfaction than going to work every morning and working all day in an environment I truly admire. I've always wanted a career, and now, I have one. Unlike around this time at Offit Hall, the honeymoon of a new job has yet to wear off. I'm almost at 5 months yall, can you believe it? That long already?)
Here on the other side, it's an interesting perspective. Age is no longer a factor to me, much like race has always been a nonissue. But age, I think, can be more intimidating. My boss for example, is ten years my superior, yet we have much in common. Conversation is easy for us, and it's something I feel so lucky to have. We've both worked in extreme high pressure environments, worked for unappreciative, Jewish family offices, come from loud, Catholic families and like to cook and work out. But if you had told me at 19 that someday I'd be cool with someone who's a 30 something, I would have said yeah right. But then the same could be said for my closest friends in nyc - they are 27, 28. And then there's in the infamous Jeff, whom I consider a brother, and he's 31 almost 32. They tell me I'm an old soul, call me "Sarge". It really comes down to respect, how much you can handle, and how you perform under pressure. Age really has nothing to do with maturity, in the end. But I guess at 19, you aren't honestly reflecting on what responsibility, maturity means.
People aren't their characterstics to me, a laundry list of biography facts I rattle off to myself as they walk by. The transition from "people who work here, around me" to "my coworkers" has been a gradual consciousness. It may be maturity, experience, adjustment, but it's hard not to laugh when I see the face of an intern trying to gauge where he stands within the sea of a single office of an international conglomerate. I remember. Acceptance, involvement, responsibility. It's an odd thing to think I am seen now as an experienced, young professional. Not because it's not true, but because I don't see myself that way. I see myself as the tarot card reader in Florida sees me: a seeker, someone who is searching for her own identity, someone who has many different facets she is trying to balance: creative dreamer vs. practical worry wort.
What would an intern think of me?
Almost 24, taking the CFA soon, licensed stockbroker, certified bartender, musician, bilingual, lived everywhere, has no real accent when speaking english, comes from a big family... These are all things I've explained to an intern's many questions, attempts to cure his boredom. In the middle of all these thoughts, he said something that took my breath away. In answering my coworkers moans of CFA studying this weekend, and how behind she is, he said, "Please, you have to remember, Maria has a boyfriend who lives halfway across the country and she lives alone with her cat... Of course she's going to be farther ahead in her studying than you."
Well, hell.
He's right, isn't he? I am a cat lady.
'Cause all I am is who I am at the office, right?
He can't comprehend yet that I am so proud of living on my own, of not needing a roommate to make the rent. He hasn't seen where I've lived or that this has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl, living in a run down house in Copperas Cove, Texas. He also doesn't know that I picked out Sphinx in a Woodbridge, VA pet store when I was 13, that I paid $250 of my dilligently saved money for him. Sphinx represents to me, everything I've gone through up to this point in my life. That I can survive anything, and that always, tomorrow will come.
Oh man, does he have a lot to learn.
(There isn't much that gives me more satisfaction than going to work every morning and working all day in an environment I truly admire. I've always wanted a career, and now, I have one. Unlike around this time at Offit Hall, the honeymoon of a new job has yet to wear off. I'm almost at 5 months yall, can you believe it? That long already?)
Here on the other side, it's an interesting perspective. Age is no longer a factor to me, much like race has always been a nonissue. But age, I think, can be more intimidating. My boss for example, is ten years my superior, yet we have much in common. Conversation is easy for us, and it's something I feel so lucky to have. We've both worked in extreme high pressure environments, worked for unappreciative, Jewish family offices, come from loud, Catholic families and like to cook and work out. But if you had told me at 19 that someday I'd be cool with someone who's a 30 something, I would have said yeah right. But then the same could be said for my closest friends in nyc - they are 27, 28. And then there's in the infamous Jeff, whom I consider a brother, and he's 31 almost 32. They tell me I'm an old soul, call me "Sarge". It really comes down to respect, how much you can handle, and how you perform under pressure. Age really has nothing to do with maturity, in the end. But I guess at 19, you aren't honestly reflecting on what responsibility, maturity means.
People aren't their characterstics to me, a laundry list of biography facts I rattle off to myself as they walk by. The transition from "people who work here, around me" to "my coworkers" has been a gradual consciousness. It may be maturity, experience, adjustment, but it's hard not to laugh when I see the face of an intern trying to gauge where he stands within the sea of a single office of an international conglomerate. I remember. Acceptance, involvement, responsibility. It's an odd thing to think I am seen now as an experienced, young professional. Not because it's not true, but because I don't see myself that way. I see myself as the tarot card reader in Florida sees me: a seeker, someone who is searching for her own identity, someone who has many different facets she is trying to balance: creative dreamer vs. practical worry wort.
What would an intern think of me?
Almost 24, taking the CFA soon, licensed stockbroker, certified bartender, musician, bilingual, lived everywhere, has no real accent when speaking english, comes from a big family... These are all things I've explained to an intern's many questions, attempts to cure his boredom. In the middle of all these thoughts, he said something that took my breath away. In answering my coworkers moans of CFA studying this weekend, and how behind she is, he said, "Please, you have to remember, Maria has a boyfriend who lives halfway across the country and she lives alone with her cat... Of course she's going to be farther ahead in her studying than you."
Well, hell.
He's right, isn't he? I am a cat lady.
'Cause all I am is who I am at the office, right?
He can't comprehend yet that I am so proud of living on my own, of not needing a roommate to make the rent. He hasn't seen where I've lived or that this has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl, living in a run down house in Copperas Cove, Texas. He also doesn't know that I picked out Sphinx in a Woodbridge, VA pet store when I was 13, that I paid $250 of my dilligently saved money for him. Sphinx represents to me, everything I've gone through up to this point in my life. That I can survive anything, and that always, tomorrow will come.
Oh man, does he have a lot to learn.
lasaliente, 20:32
