Despite the optimism I shared in last week’s article, the prevailing theme of my summer in Washington DC was that the human race remains as flawed as ever. Look no further than the aptly named “Weinergate” scandal and its unfortunately named victim. Given our culture’s fixation with fantastically flawed people, I thought readers might enjoy this highlight reel of my ineptitude.

For those who follow politics regularly, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that there is no apparent connection between a person’s ability to succeed as a public official and that person’s ability to keep their hands (or in this case tweets) to themselves. Nor should it surprise you that Weiner’s wiener was all anyone in the media talked about for three weeks while eighty-bazillion things that actually mattered went virtually unreported.

A great philosopher once said, “Man was born free, but is everywhere in suits.” Or something like that. In a world where anyone who matters wears a dark suit in 95-degree humid weather and runs around Capitol Hill like a decapitated chicken, being stuck in that suit is tantamount to riding an exercise bike in a sauna.

On my first day of work I decided to get off at a metro stop across the Hill from my office instead of the one right next to it to see some affluent politicos and enjoy a leisurely stroll, but my plan had a gaping flaw. I had vastly underestimated the distance, the result being that I arrived drenched in sweat, causing my supervisor to spend half the morning worrying that I was going to faint. I used to like dressing up. Then I ruined all my white shirts. Speaking of drenched…

There are few better feelings in life than strutting around an important place with important things to do while wearing a crisp new suit and having everyone see how important you think you are. There are also few worse feelings than walking into a crowded committee room wearing a soaking wet suit and having everyone stare at you wondering if you swam to work that day. I didn’t swim to work that day; I was ambushed by a poorly placed irrigation system on the Capitol grounds.

Phone training was another delight. On several occasions I accidentally transferred calls to people that either didn’t want to be talked to or were incapable of getting through a conversation because they were a few bites into their lunch break
My supervisor had her friends call in just for the sake of messing with me and testing my phone skills. One of these conversations was especially painful:
“The Council of State Governments, this is Josh, how may I help you?”
“Hello Josh, I’m trying to reach Jack Kerouac, is he in right now?”
“Certainly ma’am I’ll check if he’s in. May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Helen, he’ll know who I am.”
“Okay, please hold.”

After a minute or so of frantically checking my list of extensions I had to conclude that whoever this Jack Kerouac was he didn’t work in our building
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think Mr. Kerouac works here. You may have us confused with the State Department. I can give you their number if you’d like?”
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Have a nice day.”

I Googled “Jack Kerouac.” He was an iconic American Novelist, and has been dead for forty years. To this day I don’t know if Helen was her real name.

If a mere intern deals with stress like this on a daily basis, I can’t imagine what it’s like for people with actual jobs. How do they deal with it? By my estimation, DC has more alcoholics per capita than anyplace else. Classy ones too—no Keystone in sight. When your first legal drink is Johnnie Walker Red Label and you feel like a destitute vagabond next to the guy with the forty-dollar glass of scotch, you know you’ve arrived.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: you are going to make a fool of yourself. It is going to happen. No use playing it safe hoping it won’t. Throw yourself at every task knowing that every mistake is a lesson well learned, and the bigger you screw up, the longer that lesson will stick with you.
I leave you with the knowledge that you will probably never mess up as often or as badly as I did as a DC intern, even if you try.

Good luck out there, Gusties, and make your internships count.