An old and forgotten memory of an internship.

How about a story of an old internship I had that was so boring I almost forgot it existed?

Let’s rewind backward to a decade ago, when I was just getting out of college and looking to start my career.

I’ve written quite extensively about how my college education did absolutely nothing to prepare me for the real world. Have you noticed?

You’ll remember that after I graduated, I had absolutely no skills, aspirations, direction, or plans. . . so I decided that all I could do was try the big stupid thing that the world was constantly advising, and that was getting an internship.

(It was funny, though: advisors and students alike seemed to hail internships as the be-all, end-all of early job moves, like you absolutely could not progress in a career without one. Yet there was seemingly very little communicated about what you should actually be DOING in the internship once you were there.)

So like the hero of my own story that I was, I marched right into the building of WLRN in Miami and asked them what I could do as an internship, for their radio station. (Nerds know they also do television, and I interned there, too, but that’s another story).

The VP of radio was surprised and didn’t know quite how to help (but public media are never in the position to turn down volunteer work). So he spun the question back on me. What did I want to do? Well, the real answer was nothing, but because I wanted to fake my way into NPR one day, I asked if I could volunteer to help out on Folk & Acoustic Music, WLRN’s long-running Sunday afternoon music show. That seemed both doable but also somewhat prestigious, and it certainly fit me better than anything with their other offerings in news.

The VP, probably wanting to get rid of this annoying kid, agreed — as long as I repeatedly confirmed that I was okay with not being paid.

It was from there that I embarked on one of the most pointless, ridiculous, boring work experiences I have ever had: an “internship” that was so nothing that there have been years of my life that I have completely forgotten it happened.

For a summer, I was the “intern” on a music show that did not need an intern, was not looking for help, and whose host regularly forgot I was there.

Folk & Acoustic Music was the only interesting piece of WLRN’s Sunday afternoon schedule. For decades, the host had been playing folk and bluegrass tunes and conducting interviews with musicians every week, for three hours. He did it all himself. As he had never needed help, it wasn’t clear whether the VP of radio had asked him if he would accept an intern or if he had just sprung me upon him without warning. Ultimately, I don’t think it mattered.

The host had absolutely nothing for me to do, not even busy work. He didn’t need files organized or coffee ran for. He needed NOTHING. He was kind, but not particularly interested in facilitating anything. I’d arrive shortly before 2 pm every Sunday, he’d let me in through the gate, and I’d sit there in the studio as he prepared.

The host would set up his work and pick out his music, quietly. I just sat there. There was little conversation or teaching or learning going on. At best, he might make some small talk, but it wasn’t related to the work. A few times, I might have to open the gate for a live guest, maybe set up some chairs for them to sit. That was it. Occasionally I would ask to learn about the radio systems, but the host downplayed them as “not interesting,” “just straightforward and nothing worth learning about.” So that was pretty much that.

Even knowing that there was nothing to gain from the experience, I kept coming back. I knew that I needed to stretch the engagement long enough so that the beginning and end dates on my resume looked respectable.

So Sunday after Sunday, I went. I borrowed my mom’s car every time and drove 45 minutes each way. I dressed nicely, kept a notebook, and even started listening to more folk and bluegrass to better prepare myself to be helpful on the job. And I just kept sitting there. Falling asleep. The host constantly called me Jason, if he referred to me at all. After several dozen times, I stopped correcting him.

At one point, I decided to set up and manage Facebook and Twitter accounts for the show. That was at least… something. The host wanted to be the sole voice of everything made public, so I gave him the credentials and showed him some examples of good posts. He never logged into either of them. Actually, he had created two or three profiles on each platform in the past and had seemingly forgotten the passwords to all of them.

Toward the end of the summer, the host would frequently forget I was supposed to be there at all and wouldn’t answer my buzzes to open the gate. After waiting around like an idiot for a few more weeks, one day, I just decided to stop coming.

The host never noticed, and if he did, never said anything. The VP of radio also said nothing. There was no formal conclusion to the internship.

Today, Folk & Acoustic Music is still running and the host is still hosting it.

You might think there’s nothing more to the story, but what’s truly unjust is that I probably did benefit from a career boost by having this little nothing on my resume, especially when applying for NPR. Similarly, someone who spent the same summer breaking their back in, say, a retail job – one that actually involves real work, communicating with colleagues and customers, learning real systems, and actually doing things – would be laughed out of an interview if they tried to leverage that to work on the radio.

I DID NOTHING! AND MY CAREER TOOK OFF! SORRY, NPR, YOU CAN'T GET RID OF ME! ✍︎