Hey, temporary Advertising Firm Intern:
Yeah, you. I see you sniffling over your desk there, inconsolable. You came to the big city with big dreams the summer before your senior year in college, and you were going to make your mark. "Watch out, World," you said (to the World), "here I come. TO MARK YOU."
You arrived for your first day at the ad agency of That Guy Who Your Dad Knows at the Country Club, and he brought you back into the cubicle farm, introduced you around. "This is The Intern," TGWYDKatCC said, "show him the ropes this summer."
You realized it should have been a bad sign that he had forgotten you were coming. You should have taken note that he needed some prodding before recalling your father's name correctly.
In your youthful exuberance, you thought it didn't matter, because you were making it happen.
And so now, here you are, sniffling over your thirteen-dollar-lettuce salad, wondering how you're going to eat for the rest of the weak, while front and center in your mind, the minions of the cubicle farms had looked you over, Fresh Meat, and decided the only thing to be done with you was to shove the most disgusting, unappealing, low-paying and impossible account squarely into your lap.
"Only way to learn is by throwing the babe into the deep end of the pool," Tormentor Number 1 (of who knows how many) had said, before clapping your a bit too hard on the shoulder and stalking off, hopefully never to be seen or heard from again.
But here you are, trying to decide how on the Lord's Good Green Earth you're going to sell Dr. Stinkfoot's Rectal Cream and Herpetic Powder.
Fear not, brave soul (and open the salad dressing, it had valuable calories, you'll need those)! Even though you think no one would want to come within fifty yards of that execrable product, you're wrong -- oh, how you're wrong, child!
We do. All's Fair (Six Western) would happily embrace Dr. Stinkfoot's balm and the $7.16 that comes with our endorsement! For another $0.75, the playwright will even work in some product placement.
That sound? Oh, that's the current cast storming out the door, but don't you worry. That was before they heard about the lifetime supply of the stuff you'll offer. They'll be back.
[af(sw)]
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