Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Israel and Its Lack of Organizational People Skills

I apologize in advance for the massive amount of cursing there will be here, but it's Israel's motto and I have to be as close to the source as possible. This is a post I felt was mandatory to put up in case anyone out there is curious how "sharp" and "friendly" Israel is. Don't get me wrong, Israel had a strong army (I would use "has" but I'll get to that in a minute), their medical department is top notch, and... that's it. Everything else is pretty much crap service unless you're their best friends or family of family of family, seeing as Israel is one giant Mob family that will rob and beat you senseless should you give them the wrong tone of voice.

Never in my life had I ever dealt with assholes who refuse to help, smart ass waiters who are allowed to be complete jerks and expect a high tip, and have a highly complex form of organization from the program itself and it's partners. Someone should honestly point out the flat out stupidity this nation seems to run on.

Customer Is, Was, And Will Always Be Right-- Unless You're In Israel.
This is a train of thought that is almost impossible for any Israeli to notice. This could be argued seeing as my parents are both loving that train of thought and have successfully managed to snag amazing deals out of this (furniture, cars, bills, etc) because it's a simple train of thought, "You want money? You want a lot of money? Appease the customer, and the money will flow." But not in Israel, in Israel it's "Take the deal, or leave it. Fuck you, because I run this convenient store!" And the amount of time I had Israelis yell at me is psychotic. Forget the whole "but they love you like family" bullshit because, like I said, unless you're friend of the family's family, then you're just dirt to them. In the literal sense since one time my mom slipped on a wet floor in the mall (with no sign stating the floor was slippery) and injured her back, not a single Israeli came to pick her up. And only AFTER she fell did they put the sign up. We could sue to our hearts content but Israel has the whole "fuck you" attitude, so I don't recall if we succeeded or not in that case.

Another example of Israel and it's lack of Humanity was how I was ordering lunch one day, and I always had this one waitress who practically became my friend due to the massive amount of time I went there for lunch and showed me which menu to pick up to order. The other day I go to the same restaurant where there was a new waitress, an older lady who looks bored with her life. She sees me picking up the menu and yanks it out of my hand and shoves me a shitty take out version of the exact same menu. This version was harder to read and I honestly wished I photographed it to prove my point, so after a few minutes of struggling to find the meal I already saw in the other menu, the woman begins to shout at me that I'm taking to long and should just leave. I argued back saying why can't I just look at the other menu because this one is too hard to read, so she yanks my shitty take out menu, throws it on the counter and shoves the other one in to my hand and mutters "Happy, princess?" I ordered my meal and left.

Fuck you, you're not getting a tip from me, you old hag.

The World's Best Army of High Schoolers 
Lies, lies, and more lies. Israel's foundation is that by the striking age of eighteen, boys and girls MUST join the armies; no ifs, ands, or buts. But here's the thing: eighteen. You're fresh out of high school, you're free form learning, and you're free from teachers hounding you night and day, and you're heading straight to boot camp. At eighteen the army has new recruits come in and take positions such as passports, visas, and new aliyahs (people who are moving to live permanently in Israel). Holy crap. I stated my story about my passport and why Israel is hell bent on my arrest (I'm cleared by the way, happy days after THREE YEARS), so when I handed my passport to a family friend to get it cleared we found it what was more or less the case why Israel was having the hardest time updating the computer.

So apparently, one of their solders, an eighteen year old one, managed to mistype my number. Mistype led to a mess up in the system which led to a mess up with the army and me. I have the paper, I'm legally in the clear, but it would be such a huge pain in the ass that come time I leave I have to be pulled aside, show the paper, answer a few questions and THEN bored the plane. I would much rather have it all done then and there. It really baffles me why it's so hard, in the digital age where everyone and their moms knows how to tweet and post a status on Facebook, to simply re-type my number in correctly. Israel is also known to be technologically advance, I should add.

Just Answer The Fucking Question!
Warning: lots of use with the word "fuck".
So this is geared more at my program and it's pathetic excuse that they call organizational adult skills, and really the bread and butter of this post. When we first came to the program they gave us cellphones to use in Israel because it's cheaper, however when it will come the time to leave (mine is Aug. 9 hopefully) I will need to return the phone. So today at a meeting I asked how the process of it goes; this resulted in everyone pretty calling me an idiot and saying so "obviously" that it's on my box in which I received the phone, and if not there then the website! DUH. Stupid twenty one year old American who interns at silly video games, how stupid is SHE? HAHAHAHAHA!

Allow me to show you why I asked this question because first of all, I ask questions because they, for the most part, have a huge purpose. I don't just pull this kind of questions out of the blue to hear myself speak:

First of all this, there are literally TWO numbers to call from! Which one do I call?! And it's not to the company, it's just the toll number to dial. So THAT'S not the numbers!

That's my number, I'm not stupid to call my own number.

Now THIS one was beautiful. There is literally SIX numbers to go by on that one piece of paper alone. And that small card on the right has FOUR numbers to work with. Yup! SO obvious!

So clearly the box has failed me, time to check the website! That should be easy!

That's the two pages it led me to when I clicked "Equipment Return", there is not a SINGLE phone line to contact.

I should check out the contact list, that should be helpful! I apologize here because this was when I lost hope in Israel and humanity.


CLEARLY just telling me which number to call is SO much work and me as an adult should be able to handle it just fine! I would say I would ask the main person in charge, but I did and what has transpired was the end result. I trusted her and she managed to successfully make me look like a freaking idiot for not understanding this rubix cube of numbers. So screw that noise, I'm going to call the head of the program as a whole, not Ricky. Hopefully I will get the proper response other wise I'm just going to throw this phone to the nearest hobo.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

April 6, 2012 - Passing Passover

Now I will say this, I haven't spent Passover in well over three years if only because my time was spent in the dark depths of the labs back at my college. Now that I'm in Israel, it only stood to reason I would finally celebrate it: Israel Style.

It was established in the beginning that I would be spending the break with my Aunt, after learning that my Grandma doesn't like the holidays and suddenly gets "sick" (an actual problem that exists, apparently). But from what I've heard, the people in Israel treat the Jewish new year and PO as if it's Christmas, ergo work places giving presents to their employees (some places at least, don't hold me word to it), and honestly I wasn't expecting anything big. Maybe a card, but nothing more. To my surprise, I got a gift card of 250 shekels from my boss (and in my stupidity, I mistook the expiration date as April 13 and not April 2013. Winner is me). With that sweet present, I finished my work and made my way to spend the weekend with the Aunt and Uncle. Again, like Christmas, you give presents to people... only not under a tree or anything botanic. With the help of my mom, I bought my uncle a CD and for the girls I bought them identical headbands (there was no way I was going to put up with the two arguing who's is better), with my aunt however, I went on the day of to the mall with a family friend's daughter to the mall so that I can pick up a bouquet of flowers for her as well as my aunt's mom (who was hosting me). While there we also picked up the headbands.

Totally like Christmas, it was jammed packed! Elbow to elbow, prices SKYROCKETING (honestly, 80 shekels for one bouquet?) and people pushing and shoving for the last item. People are crazy... so after helping my friend find some clothes and buying what I needed, I stopped by her place so I can FINALLY say hello to my second mom. We sat, chatted it up a bit, and caught up on several things, one of which was my friend's older brother who gave me what I consider the tightest hug ever since I came here. Like, spine bent in a weird way... might have something to do with him being incredibly tall now. He then made a dinosaur noise (it's... it's a long story) and left to play soccer with friends, at the same time I did meet his girlfriend, albeit very VERY briefly. Afterwards, I went back home so that I can change clothes and give the presents.

When I made it back to the apartment, I quietly opened the door and made it for my room (keep in mind, all of this taking place at my aunt and uncle's place). I quickly changed my clothes took out all the necessary presents. The girls finally found me when they heard the first floor bathroom in use and asked me their usual twenty one questions (with, of course, the predictable head butt that is the oldest one's version of a hug). I gave them their presents to which they both fell madly in love with and ran to my aunt, begging her to fix their hair according to the headband. With that done, I gave my aunt her flowers (the girls asked me if I had presents for my aunt and uncle earlier to which I said yes, but it was a surprise) and she loved them, and waited for my uncle to come downstairs so I can give him his present. We ended up driving while listening to the music on full blast. While driving, we Skyped call my mom to show her the crazy traffic that would only appear in Israel for Passover as well as wishing her a Happy Passover. I was already informed about the people we were going to, but I wasn't expecting what I got; the view was phenomenal and the apartment had a clean, modern, but home-y feel to it.

My aunt's parents were the sweetest hosts I've had the pleasure of meeting and apparently have already heard of me, to their surprise, I was speaking to them most of the time in Hebrew (the running theme of people from Israel is that only people from Israel can speak fluent Hebrew, the rest of the world is retarded when it comes to speaking Hebrew). I offered my help as much as I could to my aunt's mom before my uncle and my aunt's dad decided to show me the balcony. To which, again, view was phenomenal.

(...I seem to have lost the picture...)

After looking at the sight, we then went back inside when my aunt's brother and his wife and son (who was one) came. I was told that one of my aunt's sisters won't be able to show up because she is celebrating with her husband's in-laws, but I was alright with it because that saved the issue of which of the two they were calling (our name is the same). My aunt eventually showed up with her other sister (who's car was missing) and we all chatted a bit before heading to the dinner table.

My uncle stated it perfectly "It wasn't the Tower of Babel that got us mixed up with languages, it was the fifty Hagadahs".

What transpired was easily one of the more amusing PO I ever had in my life. I mean, sure I had my friend with me to make the night bearable and always managed to entertain myself, but this time there was something amusing about it. The running joke about PO which I'm pretty sure is in everyone else's household, is that there are more than ten different versions of the haggadah in possession... this house literally had ten different versions so between my aunt's dad reading from a sixty (that's right, 60) year old, Arabic haggadah, my two cousins shouting for the afikoman, my uncle sitting there talking about the death of Mac, me completely zoning out due to the amount of Hebrew I've never heard in my life (or if I did, had NO idea what it meant), my aunt's youngest sister yelling that her dad is using an ancient book, and my aunt's mom trying to be as calm as possible, we spent easily four hours trying to get passed Ma Nistana.

Once we passed one of the parts in the haggadah, as we were jumping back and forth with none of us having a single clue where we're suppose to be on, the girls got impatient and decided now was the perfect time to be as obnoxious as possible for the afikoman. The way they do it, or at least this is their train of thought of how things work to get things, is to take both index fingers, pushed them as hard as possible on both sides of their cheeks (the harder, the more insistent) while smiling, head tilting to the side, and in their squeakiness (not even cute squeaky, I should add) repeat "Bevakasha" which is "Please" in Hebrew. If you should say no, they will only repeat this with pushing in the cheeks harder, tilt the head more, move in closer, and raise the squeakiness of their voice. My aunt's dad (whom I'll just call Sir because that's easier to type over and over again) sighed and kept his cool the whole time, clearly he's use to this kind of shit, in which case, I applaud him. When he finally made it to the matza segment (and matza = afikoman) the girls went apeshit and were telling him-- more like demanding really, where he was planning on hiding the afikoman (by the way, the afikoman is a broken half of the matza during the dinner, one part stays on the dinner table, and the other gets hidden for the youngest children to go search. First one to find it gets a present, but in full honesty, all the kids get presents, so it's more for the pride of it, if anything), deciding to be helpful I asked the oldest if I could have a hug (she headbutts my stomach so her eyes are usually smashed into my stomach) seeing as my Aunt called the middle one over. It worked perfectly, so one headbutt later, the two girls went running off to find the golden cracker.

Several seconds later we hear yelling, shouting, and crying. Emerging from one of the rooms, the oldest one leaves crying her eyes out because the middle one was "cheating" by following her everywhere. So once we were able to calm them down (seriously, all of this over a freaking cracker that tastes like moldy cardboard box) they went back into the fray (it was honestly just those two) with the victor being the oldest, middle one coming in chiming that she helped. So those two, the one year old, and even the baby got presents (dollar store material if you asked me) that consisted of balloon making equipment, clay, and markers. I'll get into that in a minute because those three gifts truly were the highlight of the night.

The weird thing about the PO sedar here was that their train of though was that we should eat and enjoy the meal first, THEN read the haggadah (and those four hours of trying to figure out where the hell we were didn't count in the slightest... apparently) because your mind won't be on the food, but rather on the haggadah itself. While that makes complete sense (believe me, I loved that idea), it also ruins the whole point of why to even do a sedar. It's to relive what the Jews in Egypt had to go through so we can appreciate the meal. Once we finished eating (the meal was exquisite), the kids went off to play while my aunt fed the baby cousin. Which now brings me to their three gifts.

The oldest loves to draw. I found this out when she came running to me one day begging me to teach her how to draw (she heard her big cousin draws, why not get a proper lesson?) so when she she got markers, she started to draw a lot. The third youngest (the one year old), is still learning how to walk and grab at the same time, so as he walked over to her, he picked up her marker and began to make a run for it. Confusing her chasing for a game, he started giggling while clinging crazy hard to her marker, this resulted with the oldest one getting aggravated, which ended with her yelling and crying that he was stealing from her, not getting that he was simply learning how to run and grab. This was the less severe of the two stories that transpired.

I love play-doe, I think it's the best thing that the world has created. And if I like it, then it's only obvious that the girls love it as well. Oldest one was making a turtle and was proud of it, middle one was trying to imitate the oldest one, and out of boredom, I made for the both of them a rose (it's the only thing I remember how to make). Eventually I made my way to the dinner table to join the rest of the adults, cause the oldest one clearly wanted to use all the clay for whatever her artistic mind had in store. Sitting there while we were talking about who knows what (I couldn't keep up with what was going on between Sir reading and talking to himself and my uncle proclaiming that Mac is dead), the oldest runs to my aunt to show her her newest creation, she was really proud of it so my aunt smile and said it was fantastic. With the middle one though... she suddenly felt her creation wasn't as good as the oldest one (she copied to a T what the oldest one made) so she instead asked my aunt to fix it to match perfectly to the oldest one. And every single iteration my aunt did, the middle one threw a tantrum how it was nothing like the oldest one, she got too extreme regarding this that she just ended up taking it and smashing it into a multi-color blob, screaming the whole way about how she (my aunt) ruined the clay, how it's horrible, and so on. Her tantrum got so severe that she flew herself to the floor screaming profanity at the young age of five. My uncle went to her and tried to calm her down by she just screamed louder and shrieked that my uncle should go away and how she hated him (all this, mind you, for a freaking play-doe) we all were mortified by the behavior that my uncle and aunt decided to go with the ignore approach to show the middle one that that kind of action won't do her any good. Eventually my aunt's younger sister took care of the middle one that the middle kid calmed down for a bit.

Balloon Animals
This was the climax of the night, with the oldest one sitting on the reclining chair with my uncle on the balcony (did I mention how amazing the view was?) the middle one began to play with the balloon equipment, attempting to make simple balloon animals that she saw the oldest one do earlier. It screwed up and she started to throw fits of rage about it but we all thought it would blow over. My aunt's youngest sister, a make up artist, started to paint all the girls' finger nails as a tradition that it's to give good luck. So while the kids were doing whatever it was kids do, the guys just sitting around and chilling, us girls had our finger nails done by my aunt's sister. During my aunt's turn, the middle one stormed over to my aunt demanding her to fix the balloon animal, an attempt my aunt failed almost a half hour ago. She started off with "in a few minutes" but the middle one would have none of that and demanded it right then and there, so instead of dealing with her constant screams, she told her to go to my uncle. He knows how to.

He doesn't.

So when the middle one went to the balcony, where my uncle and oldest was cuddling under a blanket in a comfy chair staring at the view, my back was to the window waiting for my nails to dry. Shortly what happened later, not going to lie, I'm laughing right now as I type this; my aunt breaks out laughing incredibly hard. We all thought she finally lost her mind, but she pointed towards the balcony, tears streaming down her face, and I turned around out of curiosity. Lo an behold, my uncle, still in the chair with the oldest one cuddling up next to him, attempting to do an animal balloon and to his side, the middle one shrieking, face turning red, and veins nearly popping out of her neck. Everyone in the house couldn't help but break out laughing. She eventually stomped in holding a little piece of a balloon and yelling that her dad is ruining her life as well as the balloon and stormed out. Aunt's sister chased after her shortly when my uncle came in, slightly daze, and a smirk on his face. He holds the small remaining part of the balloon.

"Wiener dog."

And then we all couldn't stop laughing.

Tall Tales Part 1

Well, it seems we have hit the final countdown of this blog. Many stories left unsaid and many more to come. Time for me to nutshell things up!

While I haven't been the best at updating period, allow me to explain what happened within the four months that has happened that I personally witness without the need of a written document. I felt myself grow as an individual, I learned how to stand up straight with my head held high (granted I may have my sob moment where I just break down into tears and wonder why I hate the world and everyone in it), how to not let people rain down on my parade, and just how to overall handle myself in various situations.

I'll Show You How You Get Things Done.
At my workplace, I mentioned the new intern. All the guys (primarily the one guy that has something with me) love him and trust him with all of the technical work. Something I was working at doing. Eventually all my projects were stolen from me and given to the guy by practically everyone in the office, leaving me with nothing to work on. Now this is where the growth kicks in. After two months of not working, I finally went to my boss and told him that I'm reaching a point where I'm finding it hard to come to work when I have nothing to do. I want to stay for the remaining time I have here but at this pace I'm slowly loosing motivation. Understanding where I'm coming from, he goes to the guy who is constantly stealing my work and tells him my new project (which was to go around and interview all the people who work in the office and ask what it was like to work on the game, an idea I had the moment my boss asked me how we can promote our game more), the guy, naturally, takes my idea, gives it to someone else and tells me it's basically written and done. I don't need to work on it. Growth number two kicks in. With no more office work left, me and my boss decided I will be the one to handle the party and arrangements, because clearly none of the guys know how to do it (claims it's girly), so as "girly" as it was, I was the one in charge of the launch party at the beach, I e-mailed everyone important, called some others, arranged the area, set up the machine, wrote the invitation, and fixed up the xbox kinect all for the party. Suck. On. That. It was a massive success and I felt proud that everyone was there drinking, getting drunk, and flailing their arms around in front of the projector because of me. Not that stupid intern. Whom, by the way, left the party before my boss handed out to all of those who worked on the project 40% alcohol shots. The following day he started admitting that ALL American girls are drunks who drink beer at the early age of eighteen and that everyone in America actually drinks beer, this coming after one of the guys in the office was asking me why I'm not drinking beer, and there by not putting it on my sandwich. Sorry party boy, I'm no letting you get away with that. Can't really blame me for loosing my patience when this kind of thing goes on for more than three weeks, mainly after party boy here started working with us. So I snapped my head and, very calmly I should add, a very honest remark 

"I don't know what kind of slutty bimbos you slept with, but some women actually have class".

So the next time you think all Americans are drunken retards, remember my face and how I practically owned your ass.

My Roommates, My Program, My Self Esteem.
I don't want to go further into this topic considering this is nothing short of a giant angst fest, however said angst-fest has also led to my dramatic growth. Up until now I was handled like a little kid, ignored constantly, talked down to a lot, and sometimes even flat out yelled at. And I admit, this greatly hurt me. On the Fourth of July I was yelled at for being too dependent on others, which I knew for a FACT was a flat out lie seeing as I was on my own for the majority of the trip (save for the occasional visits to my family and family friends), I had to learn my mistakes the hard way, deal with angry Israelis (don't… get me started on that), and overall jerks who's head is so far up their ass it would put a yoga instructor to shame. At some point, I was even ignored by the RA (who is infatuated with my roommates, so by default he would side with her with everything) and was told it was my responsibility to take care of everyone else, especially my roommate and not him. The head of the program, while sweet, talked down to me when I told her about the situation. I did break down into tears and I was (am) cursing out Israel for all of it's annoying-ness they tend to have considering up to that point, it was almost two weeks straight of a brutal critique why "I'm a flawed human being and should be ashamed I wake up every morning". A handful, at best, of Israelis can shake my world and make me feel like I was acting silly for raging out on Israel, but you know what they say; the loudest ones are the annoying ones. No avoiding it, and not wanting to deal with it, Tel Aviv and all of it's programmies (mainly my group) can quite frankly, go and fuck themselves.

Thank you program, for making me age up at double the rate and still make me feel like I'm insufficient, as well as making me grow what is probably the strongest back bone known to mankind.

Multi-Culture Advocate
So a running theme in Israel (not sure if I mentioned this in a previous post) is that the moment Israelis hear someone speak in English, they will either do one of three things: 

1- Insinuate all English speakers as naive, stupid, Americans.
2- Insinuate all English speakers are speakers for Obama
3- Speak to you in nothing but English and get agitated when you stare at them as they mess up the word "ate" and "eight".

Fortunate for me, I can speak hebrew rather fluently kudos to my twelve years at a private Jewish school and my whole entire family being natives of Israel. However, being raised in the states, my grandma pointed out I have an accent when speaking hebrew… a very AMERICAN accent. Which resulted with me trying to limit my speaking whenever possible, the gods of language must have smiled down upon me whenever I opened my mouth because the first assumption Israelis think I'm from is either Spain or France, the latter being my favorite choice and my odd temptation to go around by my middle name 'Michelle'. In fact I almost admitted to being from France during one of my rare drunken escapade (bartenders are your bestest friends when completely shit faced and need a pick-me-up with three glasses of alcohol). Of course every now and again I have to advocate on behalf of America seeing as no one in my program is willing to and would love to see it up and burn to a crisp. Funny. In the States, I have to advocate for Israel and why it's worth defending, yet when I go to Israel, I have to defend the States from the continuous backlash it's "sister" country. But my favorite experience that has occurred so far in my stay was whenever someone, ANYONE, who isn't from the States, let alone Miami, would ask me a question or try to state a point, and asked for my take (those very rare occasions when asked a question), I would answer… You asked me a question, what kind of a response were you expecting?! Unless it was a rhetorical question in which case, for the purpose of not looking like a total bitch; STATE IT.  It wasn't until a few weeks ago where I just went "forget this crap!" and left it up for others to go at each other's throats. 

Make Way For Miami's Israeli Speaker!
And seeing as Israelis have a love/hate with America, me saying I'm from the States, and not only the states, but from MIAMI. OH LORD HAVE MERCY! Israelis would love it! To much of my roommates disgust, they would always introduced themselves as "England, she speaks BRITISH. Ohio, I'm AMERICAN. And that one… she speaks fluent Hebrew!" Yeah, not really much of a ground breaker when your in a country of hebrew speakers. It's kind of like saying "It's so cool that you can breathe on Earth that's filled with OXYGEN!" In fact, during one of our many trips, we went to a blind tour where we were literally blind for three hours. It was powerful, but that's digressing. The tour guide asked where we're all from, to which my roommate starts to show off how she and another girl from New York are Americans, South African, Australian, British… and then that one girl who speaks fluent hebrew. The guide asked me where I was from to which, at this point shamefully, muttered Miami. 

The man was shocked and started gushing how he wants to visit Miami and how it's the coolest state in America. 

The roommate tried to bring up how she's from Ohio and the other is from England, but the man gave two shits about it. Miami is, was, and always will be the hot spot, bitches! AND I just happened to speak Hebrew!

However when it comes to shopping, it's a whole different story. I figured if I speak in Hebrew, there will be less bullshit then usual, but here's the thing. The moment I slip just ONE mistake, they instantly know. Like sharks being attracted to blood in the ocean and know there's a meal waiting for them there, Israelis will start speaking to you English, no matter HOW much Hebrew you speak. You dropped your guard, and know they will have a field day with you in their somewhat broken English. Prepare the frustrations and constant eye rolls. And hope to God they're not informing the others that you're a foreigner. I understand that they love people who speak English because it gives them an excuse to speak English as well, but I can't help but feel that they are somewhat insulting me and complimenting me at the same time.

I'm Not Just Pulling This Out Of My Ass
It seems people here constantly forget that I came here not only to be an intern, but to intern at a Video Game company. Meaning lots and lots of computer work. Meaning you damn well better know the basics of the computer to work here. I sent in, what I think, is a pretty impressive resume from a certain stand point. Gotta start somewhere and all that jazz. I wrote, and constantly, that I have amazing organizational skills, a fast learner, and pretty skillful with the computer (say that to my updating skills Ba-Dum-DISH!) so imagine how annoying it is after a while that people STILL get shocked that I'm not some youngster idiot doing dumb things in Israel (okay, maybe I tend to do a lot of stupid things like crossing the streets when it's still a red light. Sue me!) and am actually pretty bright with things. With that said, with both work place and program, I figured that my way of thinking "actions speaks louder then words" goes into full blown affect around these people. 

We had a pitch party in my office a few days ago and a bunch of the guys gave me the chore of running around, collecting peoples' names, their pitch title, printing the paper and handing it out to them. Very 1950's but I did write I was very organized, when came time to the pitch party, I asked if I could go last (to my boss's humor, he made me second to last). The reason being was that when I saw the guys pitch (my boss being first) one of the guys quickly shot him down before his idea took off, and with each person, everyone tore their ideas down with why it wouldn't work and why it's broken. This mirrored my college experience too well to the point that I got nauseous and was almost having cold sweat. Memories of having to pitch under four minutes with a fancy presentation and such... I came here to avoid that trauma, and yet here I am smacked dab in the middle of it. When my turn finally came around, I took a deep breath, counted till five, and started.

I have to thank my college and my teacher, cause I'm truly their bitch forever.

I opened up by saying that I have no fancy presentations like the guys have, nor a drawing, or even a sketch good enough to be projected. Just a very simple idea I had running around for a while.

I sold the idea under four minutes like it was gold from El Dorado, these guys absolutely loved my idea and took off with it on how it's such an amazing idea that the idea practically became their own. The remaining six minutes was spent on how I thought up such a brilliant and unique idea, why I want the character to be a certain way (out of curiosity more so then a critique), and so on. They were amazed at how some random intern who almost does nothing but sits and does paper work can come out with an idea that, by their standard, is almost ground breaking.

A few weeks later, I took the new Intern's project (karma, asshole) and began to do sound and video editing like it was my second hand. The only thing holding me back was the pirated program the intern got that refused anyone from using it. The guys, again, were shocked that I was able to take a brand new program and within minutes use it like I have known it my whole life (...okay, so maybe I have used Premier before... it's been a while since I used it!), once again proving that my actions are louder. 

Helps to check out my resume the next time you need someone to do some technical work or fixing up an event.