Working (published July 2007)

So first I thought I was going to write an article about my FABULOUS buddy Trisha, who’s been demanding an article for about 6 months, but no. Not any more. Nope. I’ve reached my breaking point, and I’m not going to take it any more.

The following is a public service announcement regarding the crime in Rock Island County.

Seriously folks, it’s time to stop with the crime. For the couple of months or so, I’ve been employed as an intern at Rock Island Court House. This has been a pretty sweet gig, but the work is tedious. And just so everyone knows how it works, a short explanation;  when you commit a crime, you get a file. Then, the file is given to me.
And what do I do with this file? First, I pull it apart. Then I sort it. Then I scan it, then I stamp it, then I file it in the computer. And this is what I have to do for every time someone commits a crime. So I ask you as a personal favor to myself to please stop doing stupid things.
Now, I understand you can make a mistake. Or two. Or three. But when it gets to the point when I’ve never met you but I know your address and your birthday because I’ve filed you so many times, maybe it’s time to stop.
And another thing. Now, I encourage creativity. But there is a limit to where creativity should be employed . Especially when naming your children. Naming your child Tar-Tar Lord of the Underworld and all Outlying Gophers is great. But when he starts doing crazy stuff and winds up in jail–don’t complain. You had to see it coming. Naming your child with any name involving more than 5 silent letters or more than 4 consonants together is just unnecessary.  And eventually, that child is going to grow bitter and angry because he never found  a bike license plate, and then where are you gonna be?
I never thought being a summer intern would leave me so jaded. Seriously. It’s gotten to the point where someone assaulting his grandmother with a crossbow doesn’t even phase me. Getting shot over a lawn chair? Daily business.  Chasing down someone in a car because they stole your last Jolly Rancher? Ain’t no thang.
So here’s what I propose. Next time you go to  punch someone, steal their car or smoke something illegal, first ask yourself “WIWTHOAI?”–What impact will this have on a lowly intern? Stop and think about me slaving away somewhere, sorting your file, dying of thirst and hoping that someday, someone will figure out that the cops will find what you’re hiding in your pocket, they will check the trunk of your car, and you probably will get caught if you run down the street naked.

Until that day, I’ll be here. Wasting away with my amazing summer intern partner Emma…Sorting, filing, scanning. And stamping. Stamping…..stamping….stamping……

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