I managed to avoid it for nearly two months, but today I was finally told to do the quintessential intern job: make photocopies.
With a big shoot coming up this weekend, there is a twelve page script that everyone needs a copy of. This morning a producer unceremoniously handed me stack of papers and told me to make twelve copies. After a staffer showed me the copy room, I set about figuring out the copy machine.
Everyday we experience things as humans that remind us how we aren't as smart as we've convinced ourselves to believe. Having recently wrangled with Final Cut Pro X, I was under the impression that I could tackle any piece of technology. One look at this copier, however; had me stumped.
Now I know from my little experience around copy machines that big expensive ones can do all sorts of special things. I know there's a way to copy a whole stack of papers at once, and you can get the copier to spit out duplicate stacks in order. This fancy copier could probably do your income taxes and analyze your blood sugar, too. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it to do any of these fancy things.
Not wanting to waste time, I simply made 12 copies of each of the 12 pages, and then sorted them by hand. I made a line of 12 piles and then went down it 12 times to make my 12 scripts. I was extremely irritated that I had to resort to this, but there was nothing else I could do. Producers seem to assume that interns like me automatically know how to do office work. It's not that I was too proud to ask for help; it's that I wasn't able. They were too busy preparing for a big meeting to show me how to use the machine.
Apparently MPT's copy room is also home to their only communal refrigerator, because about four people had to squeeze past me to put their lunches in the fridge while I was hurriedly putting scripts together. I don't know if it was out of annoyance or pity, but they all seemed surprised at my assembly line of papers. Ultimately I got all the scripts assembled in a timely fashion and left them on a producer's desk.
I am not a good office worker. I don't know how to ship packages, make internal phone calls, or photocopy large stacks of paper. I would rather spend all day mopping Goss' Garage or roasting at the track under the hot sun. It's not that I find office work stupid or demeaning or anything like that. On the contrary, I think it's very important, and it has to be done. I just think I'm awful at it.
Earlier this week, I was feeling pretty impressed with my self. The videos I edited made it online, I shot beautiful footage at the track, and my name made it in the show's end credits. Today, I was outsmarted by a photocopier. I suppose it's good to be humble.
With a big shoot coming up this weekend, there is a twelve page script that everyone needs a copy of. This morning a producer unceremoniously handed me stack of papers and told me to make twelve copies. After a staffer showed me the copy room, I set about figuring out the copy machine.
Everyday we experience things as humans that remind us how we aren't as smart as we've convinced ourselves to believe. Having recently wrangled with Final Cut Pro X, I was under the impression that I could tackle any piece of technology. One look at this copier, however; had me stumped.
Now I know from my little experience around copy machines that big expensive ones can do all sorts of special things. I know there's a way to copy a whole stack of papers at once, and you can get the copier to spit out duplicate stacks in order. This fancy copier could probably do your income taxes and analyze your blood sugar, too. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it to do any of these fancy things.
Not wanting to waste time, I simply made 12 copies of each of the 12 pages, and then sorted them by hand. I made a line of 12 piles and then went down it 12 times to make my 12 scripts. I was extremely irritated that I had to resort to this, but there was nothing else I could do. Producers seem to assume that interns like me automatically know how to do office work. It's not that I was too proud to ask for help; it's that I wasn't able. They were too busy preparing for a big meeting to show me how to use the machine.
Apparently MPT's copy room is also home to their only communal refrigerator, because about four people had to squeeze past me to put their lunches in the fridge while I was hurriedly putting scripts together. I don't know if it was out of annoyance or pity, but they all seemed surprised at my assembly line of papers. Ultimately I got all the scripts assembled in a timely fashion and left them on a producer's desk.
I am not a good office worker. I don't know how to ship packages, make internal phone calls, or photocopy large stacks of paper. I would rather spend all day mopping Goss' Garage or roasting at the track under the hot sun. It's not that I find office work stupid or demeaning or anything like that. On the contrary, I think it's very important, and it has to be done. I just think I'm awful at it.
Earlier this week, I was feeling pretty impressed with my self. The videos I edited made it online, I shot beautiful footage at the track, and my name made it in the show's end credits. Today, I was outsmarted by a photocopier. I suppose it's good to be humble.
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