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Welcome to the newest FamousDC feature called, “Intern It Down.”

We’ll be posting regular intern updates from across the District and encourage you to send in your stories:[email protected]

Intern It Down: Ode to The Hill Intern


Today is your day!
You’re off to Capitol Hill!
You’re off, off and away!

At first, life will be tough-
You will be late to work and blame it on the Foggy Bottom Metro;
Your pants will be tight because you have no time for the gym;
A salad at the Longworth Cafeteria costs $9;
You share a room.

Then you start to get the hang of it-
No one in the office cares what time you arrive;
The gym is not necessary; you sweat buckets walking from Capitol South to Cannon;
Walk left, stand right;
Preparation H gets rid of under eye circles;
Trader Joes makes pre-made meals for $4;
Sudafed costs $6.49 at CVS.

You learn the finer things in life-
Capitol Lounge has 10 cent wings on Tuesdays;
Become friends with the nurse and steal samples of Sudafed;
The House gift shop sells cozies for 95 cents;
Flip that scarlet letter intern badge inside-out;
That girl in the red cocktail dress at 9 a.m. is dumb.

Potomac Fever hits-
Your summer aspiration is to be as tan as John Boehner;
The best part of your day is reserving the softball fields;
Cloture Club has free things;
You play the how-many-business-cards-can-you-get-tonight game;
Cheese is stolen from receptions;
You almost got Clinton impeached.

By now you feel comfortable on the Hill-
You skip work “to mourn the death of Betty Ford;”
Being blonde will get you 2 cigarettes outside the Metro;
You convince your married friends to come in to ask for a tour, but really you all go to a three hour lunch;
Facebook and Twitter is left open on the desktop;
The cashier at Starbucks knows your sugar-free-fat-free-triple-espresso-vanilla-soy latte order.
Say you’re PRESS for the “Washington (insert mumbled word)” and get into parties with open bars;
Blacking out in front of Eric Cantor builds character.

Two glasses of wine in at the reception for homeless children in Kyrgyzstan and you ponder being responsible, but then you realize Facebook has already ruined your political career. Third round is on you.

You learn important life lessons-
If you’re talking to someone from the South, say “Roll Tide”; the Midwest, “sweet neon Nikes”; the North, “Derek Jeter.” Khakis, golf, or investments also work for all of the above;
If you’re relatively attractive and can make decent conversation, you automatically have friends, and/or a staffer in your office most likely wants to sleep with you;
Dodd Frank is not a person;
Jumbo Slice is never a good idea;
The “intern” you’re speaking to is not who he says he is;
Democrats are communist, Republicans are selfish, and if you don’t love America you’re a terrorist.

Then, after the button on your pants pops, you realize your mother was right-
There is no money on hill; you will not find your husband;
Don’t eat everything at the receptions- you will get fat;
Be nice to everyone because that unfortunate looking man next to you in most likely Joe Biden;
Take note of who you meet because if you don’t, you will walk into a fourth of July party thinking you know no one and find out that in fact, you do know everyone, and have successfully shared one, maybe two, most likely 5 margaritas with them at Tortilla Coast;
Awkward is your middle name.

Then your bank account dries up and the smell of Dan’s Café in Adams Morgan reminds you of home and you remember-
You’re not important; you’re licking envelopes for free;
You weren’t invited to Google+;
You can’t go to Camp David (but I love s’mores?);
You’re an overqualified pledge in a suit with a resume.

So you leave town and go to New York for $20 on a bus with people that smell-
And the men wear v-necks;
A martini is $24;
The boy you broke up a year ago is an investment banker with a flat on the Upper East Side. (Damn.)

You pay for your last cab ride in quarters and can’t wait to go back to DC because you think, “Hey, in a few weeks I get to go back to sleeping till 3 p.m. anyways. SOLID.”

So you go home and your parents pick you up from the airport and ask, “What did you learn this summer?”

You tell them about the hearings you attended and the press releases you drafted, when in reality all you can remember is that the lady’s name at Starbucks is Rosa and the flag office is somewhere in the basement of the Capitol.

You mumble “cuttttureeeclub” in your sleep.

You go back to college and receive a standing ovation when you arrive at breakfast in your red dress from the night before, and your Sudafed addiction is cured.

Coming back to the Hill next year and getting a job is a possibility, because hanging out with your personal trainer at 3 a.m. instead of the neighboring offices’ chief of staff was a great decision, and did not only get you free personal training, but a respectable reputation and a larger rolodex too.

And the bottom will be the top, and the first will be the last, and maybe one day, irrelevant staffer, I will hire you to clean my house.

Until then,
Think like Reagan;
Dress like Kennedy;
Rage like W;
And be the best coffee maker on Capitol Hill.

-Intern of Summers Past

Do you know someone who interns too hard? We’d love to know how you got them to In-tern it down a notch. So let us know and share their lessons with the world. Don’t be shy: [email protected]

And remember interns, stay classy.