The Intern

When I first started my job, my department hired a slew of lazy boy interns. They were useless at first and all they seemed to do was pretend to be excited about the menial jobs they were given, but deep down I was just waiting for them to discard the excited face and just be themselves.

They eventually shedded the new-hire happy face and became themselves -- fun-loving, immature pricks! Which I loved. And they proved to be pretty handy around the office. They didn't need much direction and were great for heavy lifting. We get a lot of shipments.

Now they're gone and we have these two new girls working for us. They're best friends, but they're never in the office at the same time. The one I want to talk about I will call "Stinky," because she is truly one stinky little girl.

She's 19. She's from Utah. She's Mormon (not that there's anything wrong with it!). She wears the same pants every day: you know the kind...tight khaki pants and NO THONG! I see panty lines all day with this one.

But what makes her stinky is her dang shoes. She wears these sandals and has this charming habit of coming into my office and sliding her shoes on and off, creating this thick aura of cheesy stench. It's revolting. So she is "stinky girl."

I suppose my disdain for her comes from a deeper place than just her offensive smell. She's slow. She's lazy. She doesn't do heavy lifting. Rather, I feel bad making her lift things when I can do it myself. And I can see her dang panty line the whole time. Like, what do you have against thongs?

Today she came into the office sporting a new piece of jewelry. An engagement ring. And it's beautful. It's what I would want now, at 19 and tomorrow.

My disdain for her grows. I miss the boy interns.