Editor’s note: This article is a humor column.
My name is Serenity Zen, and I am a survivor of corporate culture.
It started in the fall — I was doomscolling on LinkedIn, ignoring the hundreds of connection requests from high schoolers whose only goal in life was to be me. After securing an internship on Capitol Hill last year through hard work and what some of my jealous peers call nepotism, my national security clearance and swagged-out resume was in high demand.
Enter Earnest Veritable International Law — E.V.I.L. — a government consulting firm offering internships on LinkedIn for college students pursuing human rights law. I was a little thrown off by the name at first, but I let it go once I considered that many buildings at my own university were named after people of questionable character.
The second I saw an open E.V.I.L. summer intern position in Cape Disappointment, Washington, I was hooked. To make sure I landed the job, I looked for a fellow Hoo on LinkedIn to “put in a good word” for me. Weirdly, however, I couldn’t find any past E.V.I.L. interns. Though I had never gotten an internship without a referral before, I submitted my application anyway hoping an AI bot would pick it out based on my experience painting butterfly murals in public schools. Surprisingly, I received my acceptance letter email in January.
My arrival at Cape Disappointment should have been the first sign my internship was not what it was cracked up to be. With its inefficient urban design, lack of Greco-Roman architecture and severe drought of bagel businesses, I could tell the town was a work in progress. And then I saw a pelican eat another pelican?
Despite this strange start, I reported to E.V.I.L. headquarters for my internship with their team that works on human rights law. I was introduced to the staff, who were in coordinated outfits in one unified shade of gray. I was told it was Pantone #BB666, named “Per My Last Email” — not to be confused with Pantone #BB667, named “Honey, where’s my supersuit?” Not only did I stand out like a black sheep in my clothes that had been entirely sourced from That Nice Goodwill In The Suburbs, but I soon recoiled in horror as I discovered my office bluetooth mouse was not compatible with my 2024 27 inch iMac.
For the first week — as I waited for my Shein pantsuits in Pantone #ICUP2, named “Learning the Ropes” — I read over legal briefs and my team’s cases. I did a double take when I realized in most of them, E.V.I.L. was actually… the defendant. After working up the courage to ask one of my gray clad-superiors what we’d be doing with human rights, she blankly answered.
“Violating them.”
In a shock-induced trance, I attended a meeting, barely registering what was going on until I heard “...E.V.I.L. will be designating new CIA Black Sites for interrogations and lobbying for the next fleet of Super Patriotic Military Jumbo Jets to be sent to Azerbaijan.” Now this was beyond the pale. I had never even heard of Azerbaijan — E.V.I.L. was sending missiles into charlatan countries, and my deep, diverse geography education via the United States public school system confirmed it! Worse, no creamer or sugar was offered at the office Keurig, and I had been forced to drink black coffee for a week straight instead of my typical Magical Fairy Açaí Shimmer Juice from the Corner Starbucks. I had to halt this madness.
Week by week, I slowly revolted. I shredded brainstorming documents for new Guantanamo Bay interrogation “tactics,” trashed construction plans to bulldoze senior living complexes and, to top it off, I stole a thumb drive with plans to plant weapons of mass destruction in Ben and Jerry’s Vermont headquarters. I even logged the extra hours I spent tearing down E.V.I.L. as overtime on my timesheet.
My team was like a chicken with its head cut off trying to figure out who was stealing their plans for world domination — no one pointed fingers at the forgotten intern. I was elated! Even the cannibal pelicans I saw on my commute couldn’t hold me back.
But, you see, this neglected intern had forgotten she was paid. And, after just three weeks of work, I was left staring at the check of a lifetime. I was torn.
It wasn’t like I could turn down a cool $5,000. I mean, I was trying to secure the free world, but I needed me some gas money. I shook my head sadly as I cashed it, justifying that vigilantes like Batman were billionaires too. But, before I could see that money hit my account my whole world went dark.
I woke up in a dark concrete room, no idea where I was, with my work team across from me. This time they wore pantsuits in #N999S, “Funeral Whimsy.” They asked me what I had been doing during my overtime but I refused to speak. So, for five hours, I was interrogated using the same tactics I’d discarded, which included watching paint dry, having to watch “Marley and Me” over and over again and making slime without glue OR borax. Finally, they gave it up, citing me as too “nonsensical and generally annoying to be around” and firing me on the spot. I gave my captors a professional goodbye that would have made the University Career Center proud as I bolted out the door.
Luckily, I now speak to you from my hometown. I am traumatized, but far from taken out of the field. After all, I have another butterfly mural to paint and an extra $5,000 to get it done. However, I will be changing my major to Youth and Social Innovation on the Elementary Education track, no matter how many advisors I have to fistfight at the University.
Human rights aren’t for the weak.
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