During the summer between my junior and senior years of college, I accepted a position as a web intern at National Geographic Traveler
The internship itself was better than I could have anticipated. The staff at the magazine are accustomed to having interns (National Geographic’s program runs like clockwork), so I was never without things to do – and thankfully, my list of responsibilities never included making copies or fetching coffee. From day one I was treated like a full-fledged team member, allowed to sit in on all sorts of development meetings and engage with my supervisors at their level. The best part was that I never lacked for patient instruction or helpful advice. I truly felt like my co-workers wanted me to succeed.
And succeed I did – at work, anyway. Back at my studio apartment, things weren’t going quite so well. I’d never had trouble functioning independently from friends and family, but in D.C. I found myself utterly alone, trying simultaneously to process a new environment as well as the standard-issue anxieties brought on by the college experience. One evening I re-watched an episode of NBC’s 30 Rock in which Alec Baldwin’s character notes, “I would think that the single woman’s biggest worry would be choking to death in her apartment.” Later in the episode, Tina Fey’s character does, indeed, choke on a microwave dinner in her apartment, which leads to all sorts of hilarious shenanigans. But as I glanced back and forth from my TV screen to my plate of reheated spaghetti I grew terrified, not amused. I was suddenly overcome with panic. What if I choked on a noodle?
It took a few days for me to calm down after that, but I was able to turn my personal crisis into a challenge. I told myself that if I wanted to succeed somewhere bigger and better after graduation, it was necessary for me to make it work in D.C., regardless of whether or not I was alone. I made it a goal to take better advantage of the cultural opportunities offered by such a diverse (and easily navigable) metropolitan area, so I hopped from museums to monuments to boutiques to restaurants based totally on my own personal whims and desires. I tried new foods. I took lots of photographs. And before I knew it, early August rolled around, and I found myself packing up once again for the comforts of college.
That summer was a mess, a weird balancing act between an excellent professional experience and a confusing, sometimes frightening personal journey. But I discovered a lot about what I’m capable of, and I was able to sort out exactly what it is I’m looking for in that big, hazy post-grad world. Those things are worth more than the credit on my resume.Â