An uncharacteristically utilitarian post
In recovering from my gobsmack-worthy faux pas earlier, I might add that the reason that I'm sending out emails to Investor Relations Officers is because I've suddenly been assigned a highly confidential project. In Boss's words, "Normally we'd put one of our own people on this, but I like your work, so I'll let you do this." Ever the perennial cynic: I of course entered his office dreading being lumped with some singularly horrific, humiliating and soul-crushing task (e.g. cleaning a Senior Partner's spare shoes, with my tongue), but as it turns out, it seems I (and my CV) arrived in Corporate Finance "highly recommended" by the Exec, and this is a proper, classified project. Quietly thrilled. Au revoir to a dingy cubicle - this corporate intern whore now has her own office.
Meanwhile, coworkers are cracking marvellously hysterical "jokes" about locking me in the file cabinet when my internship period terminates, so that I won't be able to leave, thus condemning me to an ETERNITY of churning out aesthetic and cogent powerpoint presentations. For real, it seems that Auditors are even more delusional than yours truly. A remarkable feat.
And just so it does not look as though all I have accomplished this summer is corporate and dull: a while ago my sister and I stood in our library and tried to devise ways to mime fonts. We twirled to the flowery Edwardian Script, bounced to Comic Sans, robot-walked to Courier. We undulated to Arial and made like Russian foreigners to Wingdings. We even sashayed to Trebuchet. Fonts got character, yo.
This weekend's plans: a gridlocked, brimming, teeming schedule of hours and hours of
absolute, glorious nothing.