I'll trade you my Jell-o for an Oreo.

This week at my internship, things have been hectic. I've never before had to stay from 8:30 to nearly 5 pm...three days in a row. My supervisor normally waves his hand in my direction to tell me to leave whenever I want, which is usually about 2 in the afternoon. I don't know how anyone can sit at a desk and stare at their computer screen for 8 hours straight. Guess I'm not meant to work in a cubicle.

I started a "special project" for the company's CEO, a loud and optimistic leader with the power to make everyone around him feel at ease. This involved counting employee surveys and categorizing their comments. I enjoyed being able to use my creative juices by dreaming up a vibrant color scheme to show which topics were repeated. Hey... I do what I can to keep myself interested.

I'm not sure if my need to break free from routine comes from my lack of office experience or if it means that I'm designed for an unconventional job. I'm hoping for the latter, because there's just too much unnecessary stress involved. The woman who works across from me says she can't even stand up to go to the bathroom because her clients NEVER. STOP. CALLING. I know she probably didn't dream of working in pest control sales as a little girl either, but I want to do everything I can to avoid being chained to my desk one day.

Lunchtime at the office reminds me of middle school. We all sit down at a long metal table in the basement and compare tupperware containers. Most of my colleagues are women over 30, but it seems that not one of them knows how to cook for herself. Every time I sample a rice dish or piece of spiced lamb from my neighbor's plastic square, I remark that it's delicious (because it's always true) and ask, "Did you cook this?"

The response is always "Of course not! My mother/grandmother cooked it for me." Everyone was so shocked when I brought in homemade tofu stir fry that *I* (gasp) had cooked with my dad. This was after a week of bringing sandwiches, which horrified the women and made them feel sorry for me.

I learned quickly that, to survive in this middle school world, I have to conform to the fancier (but not self-cooked) meals that require reheating on a plate. Today I brought some leftover tomato rice and half a sandwich. I'd say it's a fair compromise.