Orientation (Book one in the Thelma Berns: My Internship in Hell series)

Wednesday Mid-Morning

It turned out that the town hall meeting was mind-numbingly boring. At least twenty different people got up and talked about projects or current issues in their department. Slides featured bar charts and pie graphs with financials and other data that swam together in a huge mass of confusion in my brain. Very little of it made sense.

To make matters worse, the room was dark for the projector and slightly warm. We were seated in an auditorium with seating like a movie theater, complete with cup holders and cushioned seats. All around me people were chugging coffee and caffeinated sodas. My head started nodding and I was glad that Ning was sitting next to me, except that her elbow was really pointy and she kept jabbing me with it.

The meeting extended until one o'clock, but at the end we were rewarded for our passive sitting with another smorgasbord of pizza and chips. This time I knew to take two pieces and to pile on the chips because there wouldn't be an opportunity for seconds. Everyone was standing around in small groups eating off of their plates.

Eating while balancing a floppy paper plate and holding a napkin is not in my talent pool. I nibbled on my chips and circulated around looking for someone to talk to. When it felt like I wasn't going to find someone, I resolved to take my plate back to my desk. Ning and Mick flagged me down.

"Hey Copy Queen," Mick said. "Over here."

I went over to where Mick and Ning were standing. Mick's plate was now empty except for a soiled napkin was rolled into a ball and soaking up a puddle of pepperoni grease.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Back to my desk. I prefer to sit while I'm eating," I said.

Ning had four pieces of pizza on her plate, and another still in her hand. I'm not sure where she puts it all since she probably barely cleared four feet tall. "Don't be antisocial," she said. "They won't hire you for real after your internship if you act weird."

"I'm not being antisocial. I have a hard time eating while I stand."

Mick snorted. "What's so hard about it?" He suppressed a belch. "Hold your plate and napkin in one hand and eat with the other."

I didn't point out that his gut made a convenient shelf for holding his plate steady. Instead I frowned and looked down at my hands. I was holding my plate and napkin in one hand as he'd suggested, but a can of soda was using up the eating real estate in my other.

Ning shrugged. "Let's go into a conference room, then." She led the way to a room nearby that people were drifting in and out of. Mick threw out his plate and collected three empty chairs together into a cluster.

"Ladies," he said, gesturing towards the seats.

"Thanks, Mick," I said.

"Yeah, thanks," Ning said. We each sat in one of the chairs. I set my pop can on the floor behind one of my chair legs so that it couldn't get kicked over and put my plate on my lap. I could finally eat.

"Ning says you had a run-in with Dana," Mick said.

"Kind of," I said. "She thought I was spying on her."

"Were you?" Mick asked.

"No."

"Why would she think you were, then?"

"I was at Tonya's door, and I was just looking in the window to see –"

"To see what? Sounds like you were spying to me," Ning interrupted.

"No, I just wanted to know if she was on the phone or what, if I could knock to go in. I could hear talking. But just when I looked in the window they started to argue. Before I could move away Dana opened the door, demanded that I not spy on her, and she left."