Actually, I am a 32-year-old intern. Effective today, I have an actual 5.4 mile roundtrip commute to my new full-time gig as a copywriter at a design studio & marketing agency in Uptown. The commute is easy, scenic and, after sitting all day, exhilarating. I was able to fit my laptop, 3 books, two locks, two coats, my wallet pouch and a snack in the panniers. Tomorrow, a pair of earmuffs will be accompanying me, too … brrrr.
But let’s get back to the fact that I’m interning. It’s my own fault that I moved to Denver without a job, but I never imagined that it would take so long to find one – even in this economy. Over the summer, I had so much going on and enough freelance feature writing to make me feel like I was a productive member of society. Then, in late August, I signed up for a new task: bike-riding.
I didn’t want to freelance forever and in my mind it was all going to come together in September … and it did, just not quite how I figured it might. (I had envisioned gainful employment.)
Since most writing jobs in this town involve marketing and PR, I’ve decided to try my hand at the “dark-side” of journalism (which I don’t really mean as a disparaging remark), with the notion that I’m saving myself the money and time it would take to get a Master’s in the field.
And I can probably credit the Tour de Fat with getting my foot in the door. This design studio did some work for the event and the new boss was there the day I ceremoniously signed over my car in exchange for a bike on that City Park stage.
Sure enough, Day One was a great day. My boss is as interested in the ‘why?’ as the ‘what’ and the ‘how,’ and generously lends his time to those discussions with me. Not to mention, it’s a welcome change of pace, company and scenery.