I remember that morning in May when I took a deep breath and walked out the door towards my car, nervous hands gripping tightly to the brown paper bad that held my makeshift lunch. I had straightened my hair and brought new clothes, clothes that Miss. Seaver from my high school, the teacher who was in charge of our senior year apprenticeships and who would scowl at me for wearing my pink sweater because it ‘wasn’t a professional color,’ would approve of.
It took much more effort to drive that morning than usual, and it wasn’t because this was my first summer with a car. I knew where my internship was located and I wasn’t afraid of getting lost. Still, a part of me knew I was driving towards the unknown, going to my first “real world” professional work experience. I kept looking at the clock, not wanting to arrive too soon or too late.
I arrived at The Recorder about five minutes early. The brown building was so inconspicuous you would miss it if you didn’t know it was there. I pulled into the tiny parking lot between the recorder and a health clinic. I turned off my car and made my way inside.
“Hi” I said to the lady to the front desk, a tall woman with brown skin and waive dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
She gave me a small smile, though her eyes were full of questions.
“I’m Keshia, Jessica’s new intern.” I introduced myself.
“Oh.” She smiled at me fully then and introduced herself, “Let me call Jessica down.”
I was happy to see Jessica’s familiar face scurrying down the stares. I remembered her from my days in JAWS, a high school journalism program run by The Recorder. I remembered wondering if she remembered me when I showed up for an interview after calling the Recovered out of the blue and asking if they were looking for interns.
“Hi Keshia” she said quietly, “Come right this way.”
Jessica was a short woman who didn’t look a day over twenty-five. I stared at the back of her head as she walked up the stairs, admiring the way her natural hair curled around itself in perfect spirals. I decided to not straighten my hair the next day, but I knew it wouldn’t look as precise as that.
When I got upstarts, a petite blond girl in gray slacks was swaying side to side in a spinning office chair. She gave me a hopeful smile.
“Keshia, this is Rachel, Rachel, Keshia.” Jessica said. Rachel, a student from Indiana University, was the other intern for the summer.
I then met Jack, the copy-editor, and Brandon, another writer who was also in charge of Indiana Minority Business Magazine.
I began to feel a little more at ease. We were given our first assignments right off the bat, and told to start working on them.
Later in the day, Rachel came up to me.
“So, how were you this morning when you first came here?” she asked me.
“Nervous.” I admitted truthfully.
She sighed, plopping down in the chair right beside me. Her voice got higher.
“Oh my God, I know what you mean.” she said, “I was sitting in my car, my hands were shaking. I was so scared to come in. But everyone here seems so nice and laid back.”
We laughed at ourselves.
“I agree. It’s funny how nerves get the best of us at times. Everyone is so nice.”
We would soon become accustomed to Jessica’s focused personality that made her a good worker. We would get use to Brandon’s quiet, calm way of explaining things. We would adjust as the dynamics of the office when a new employer, Erica, comes alone and takes us under her wing by introducing us to PR professionals and taking us into the looker rooms at a Fever game.
We would learn to look forwards to reading Shannon’s column every week while copy-editing; we would learn to deal with strange phone calls and request from readers. We would cover events such as Indiana Black Expo, meet local artist and musicians, and write about a variety of topics including health, education, and religion. We would have good days and bad days and but things would go on.
And we would look back at the May morning and realize that the stomach full of nerves is now replaced with a head full of real world knowledge that you can apply to your future carrier goals.
