By McKenzee Manlupig

I’ve been on this bus for three hours now. Waiting. 

It’s day one of my internship at Citi FM, a local radio station! I’m in a new country, a new environment, and definitely in for a new experience.

Professor Steeves wanted to drop off each person in my cohort individually at their internships, starting at 8:30 a.m. I was second to last to get off the bus. I repeated a cycle of nodding off and forcing my eyes open over and over again during this ride. I mean, someone had to be on the tail end of this delivery.

Finally, it was my turn! Adrenaline surged through my body, reviving me. I see the Citi FM logos on cars passing by, and signs directing us to the building.

We walk up, eyes wide.

A woman in a pink button-up and an even hotter pink tie tells me I don’t work there. There’s another location. I’m working at a news station?

I’ve been on this bus for three and a half hours now. Waiting. 

Day one of my internship at Citi FM, a local radio station, has turned into day one at Channel One TV, a local news station! 

We arrive, being greeted by the same pink ties, except this time they let us through. I’m in the right place. People are laughing with each other. I’m excited for this friendly environment. 

I spent the next hour being introduced to what felt like 100 people. I try to make small talk, being chatty, cracking the usual corny jokes that tend to come out in awkward scenarios. It was not well received. No pity smiles, no kind chuckles. 

By 1 o’clock, it’s lunch. It’s a community lunch at an outside covered patio. 

I am the first person to receive food, first person to sit down. Steaming rice, a thin tomato soup, and chicken. It was delicious.

The room begins to fill, every table except mine becoming crowded.

 No worries, to be quite real. I don’t mind. 

Then, I held the only free spots in the room. There was no choice but to sit with me. 

I get up to help a lady get to the chair next to me. As my legs rise, I hear my name, and I turn around to find the HR lady. We had met earlier. 

“Oh! McKenzee, are you done? You can go put your dishes over there,” she said. No friends for me, I guess. 

I clean my dishes and ask the HR lady where I should go now.

“I think you are about done. Since you arrived so late, you’ll start your orientation tomorrow. Go wait for your boss, Vivian, and talk to her.” 

Kind of disappointing. I was hoping to get a start on a project, but I’m tired and can start fresh tomorrow. 

I’ve been sitting in front of her office for 1 hour and 15 minutes now. Waiting. 

Thankfully, a young journalist sat next to me. We were chatting a little, but when he had work to do, I had nothing.

I kept going to the lobby and asking if they knew where my boss was. 

“Go sit and wait for her in front of her office,” they said. 

With barely any cellular data, just enough to order an Uber, I stared at the wall.

“Excuse me. How can I access the Wi-Fi?” I ask an editor in the corner. 

“Staff doesn’t have access to the Wi-Fi,” she said. At least I think so.

Wait, she mustn’t have said that. 

A little later, I ask another and then another. They say the same thing, I think. I mustn’t have completely understood them. I look at one woman’s phone, and she’s connected. 

Am I being hazed right now? I can’t figure it out. Like not actually but lowkey? Not sure what’s happening. 

Finally, she walked in. My boss. Her high ponytail swung back and forth. She felt powerful. 

“Uhhh, go sit with Wilma and watch her do her work for an hour,” she said. Dang, I think she forgot about me. 

I sit with Wilma. She’s a producer. She simply organizes the script for the news anchor, choosing which story goes first, trying to optimize audience engagement as they go from story to story.

 At first, it’s cool. I’ve never given thought to this side of the news, but quickly, I’m bored. She’s simply copying the already written scripts for a certain segment and putting them all in one doc. 

I try to chat with her cheekily, but nothing is well-received. 

“Please let me go home,” I pray. 

I’m not religious. 

My session with Wilma is cut in half when, suddenly, Vivian calls me into her office. 

It’s 3:15 p.m. 

She tells me my work day will be from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. and that my orientation will start tomorrow. 

That’s it. I waited two hours for this. 

“So you can leave now or continue watching Wilma,” she said. No doubt about it, I’m leaving. Wilma, I’m sorry you’re literally doing everything yet nothing. I’ve seen enough for the day. 

“I think I’ll go,” I said. She starts laughing.

“Oh, you’re going to leave? Okay. Haha,” she said snarkily. 

(It was a test, my cohort said, when telling them my story later.)

“How are you going to get home?”

“I’m going to get an Uber,” I said, holding up my phone. I glance at my phone, finding no bars. 

I’ve been standing in front of her office for 2 minutes now. Waiting for bars. 

“Did it work?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” I reply. We repeat this cycle every two minutes. 

I asked how to get on the Wi-Fi, and she had no clue either. Is this not a media company?

I look at the journalist I was chatting with earlier. He had been watching me struggle for about 15 minutes now. 

“Okay, I’m gonna walk up the road until I have service,” I said. 

“Oh, do you want me to order you a Bolt? (Uber equivalent)” He asked. 

Manuel orders me a Bolt. Five minutes later, he receives a call. 

“I need to leave. How will you get your Bolt?” he asks with concern. 

“Oh, I will just wait outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How will you know when it gets here?” he asks. 

“I will see it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. What is the other option, man?! I thank him for the Bolt and begin to walk out. I still have about ten minutes. 

My boss sees me on the way out. I’m standing in the small lobby, with about five people, not including those walking in and out. 

I try to make a cheeky comment, making my last attempt to get a small smile from anyone. I don’t even remember what I said; nothing memorable. But what I do remember is the empty stares. 

Okay, I give up. 

Some guy walks past, and the entire room starts erupting into laughter, as they all greet each other and make jokes. Quite literally, I don’t think he even said a word. 

I wanna leave. 

A car pulls up in the driveway. 

“Oh, is that my bolt?” I ask. 

The room erupts in laughter, harder than before. Slapping their knees. Holding their chests. 

“She thinks Jimmy’s car is the Bolt!” my boss exclaims. She repeats it again and again in between laughing, trailing off midway through her statement during some of them. 

I laugh along. I don’t mind being laughed at. At least I finally got a giggle out of them. 

I waited for 15 more minutes.