Intern 2nd day at work is Paradise

Your alarm wakes you up with a start from your 2 hour slumber; last nights rave at the Rüfus Du Sol summer bash was insane. You sluggishly roll out of your ralph lauren custom sheets (You’re spending 2/3 of your monthly on a one bedroom studio in Murray Hill) and apply Bleu de Chanel, combing back your luscious black locks. You squint away the sleep in your floor to ceiling bathroom mirror and glance at your navy blue feragammo chrono. FUCK! you exclaim, wiping last nights residue from your nasal cavity. Late for your second day at the office. You quickly call an Uber black on the company card and make a beeline for the elevator. You are greeted by a blonde balayage and La roche posay’s newest “Dewey skin” makeup look with Ashley from HR. You flash your BL2 veneers and wrack your brain for something clever to say. You settle with bringing up your prestigious summer internship at BoFa (you’ll get the courage to ask her out once you’re FT). Once the elevator dings and the doors open, you awkwardly squeeze by and rush to your desk.

9:30am: You are greeted by Rodney, the 25 year old analyst who gives you a snide look. “Late for the second day on job?”, he quips. He’s yet to receive a PE offer or A2A promote (he claims he’s been in off-cycle superday processes for the past 3 months). Knowing that he has full control of your return offer, you resign yourself to listening to his monologue on how he “macked on mad birds” on his Hamptons trip the weekend prior. After a 10 minute debate on whether Margot Robbie or Megan Fox would win in a wet T-shirt contest, he leaves you to it with a nod of approval. As he walks away, you think “this guy is a chiller” and make a mental note to ask for his evening plans.

11:30am: As you flip through the 3 statement models your staffer dropped on your desk, you feel a buzz from your phone. Your hometown friend who’s also interning in New York (Big 4) invited you to an intern happy hour at a local bar. You can’t afford to think about anything other than DCFs and shareholder value right now and swiftly return to re-aligning logos 1-2 millimeters to the right and left in your slide deck.

5pm: After slaving away on excel for what feels like an eternity, it’s time for a quick grub break. You parooze through UberEats and settle on Sushi Nakazawa, ordering the omakase sampler (on company dime ofc) You slam through the dainty fish in seconds, leaving yourself wishing you just ordered shake shack like the rest of the interns. The meal wasn’t even on your plate long enough for the hot intern whom you’ve been eye fucking to comment on how diverse your palette is. No matter, you say to yourself. You work in investment banking in a Tier 1 city. An absolute catch she’d be lucky to lick your penny loafers that you wore to prom 5 years ago (you’re 5’7 with a receding hairline and on track to be obese by mid-July).

8pm: It’s your second day on the job and you already feel weeks behind schedule. With the blockbuster merger between Amazon and Grindr rapidly approaching, the pitchbooks won’t exactly be making themselves. You hurriedly wrap up your desk and are pleased to see that meat riding Rodney has paid off; you get let out an hour early. Time to shmooze at intern happy hour.

10pm: Hair of the Dog is lively with the 5$ beers on tap flowing freely. You’ve been unsuccessfully trying to chat up Stacey from KPMG who models at Wilhelmina on the side (she’s been staring at Chad the entire time) (Goldman Sachs, 6’2, Rolex Daytona, 6.4 inch penis curves slightly left). You throw in the towel and make your way towards Gretchen, a homely brunette who was hired purely based on her financial ability. You resign to yet again settling for less and reassure yourself that it’ll be much better once you lateral to PE/VC/HF. You take a hefty swig of your lukewarm Heineken and crack a wry smile.

Ahhhh, 2nd day at work is Paradise.