Poor in New York: The Intern

This is the NY intern. Notice the expression of concentration on his face as he labels eight orders of Starbucks coffee.

Judging by his tie, I think it’s safe to say our Intern Boy is not in the publishing business. In fact he’s probably busting his butt through the left-brained world of finance or accounting.

Thus, in the future he will be making triple my salary.

Thus, I will offer minimal sympathy for his perplexity over the coffee order.

But we’ve all been there; we’ve all done that. It’s a humbling part of the rat race that everyone should experience. Then one day, when we're wealthy or successful, we’ll be dining out at Cipriani and smoothly say to our neighbor, “Remember that time when….” And they'd laugh, and we'd laugh and then we'd both sigh in nostalgic disbelief at our past circumstances. 

…Or we’ll be working at Starbucks.

I mean, either way.

At least we’d be working? 

We’d probably be happier "freelancing" at Starbucks anyway. 

Poor in New York: The Intern