As another year at my beloved Northwestern comes to a close, I prepare to move back to the suburbs instead of heading off to NYC for the internship of my dreams. As a journalism major, I should be spending the summer working for a top-tier magazine, or at least getting coffee for someone who works at said magazine. Unfortunately, this is not the case. When the glow of the Chicago skyline shifts from the south to the north, I will be back to reality. Except this year reality is a little gloomier.
In a year when “in this economy” is the country’s most popular catchphrase, the idea of a recession might seem abstract to many in the university scene. At a school as expensive as Northwestern, we live relatively comfortable lives — for the most part. But as the end of the year draws closer and we start to look for internships and jobs, we begin to realize that the economy can still have a very real effect on us. That’s exactly why I’ll be digging holes this summer.
Well, digging holes for the streets and maintenance department of my hometown, The Village of Orland Park, Illinois to be specific. It has been my “character builder,” as my dad puts it, for the past two years, but this year it has become my “only option.”
After the local paper refused to return e-mails and phone calls and magazine after magazine in Chicago began to close down their internship programs, the need for money and a way to keep myself busy ultimately drove me back to “The Village,” as any insider calls it. So, as it stands, my summer will consist of hours in a pick-up truck occasionally fixing a sprinkler system or repairing a three foot patch of sod.
But all is not lost. Though the Village may not be the most intellectually stimulating environment, it is not without its charms. For the past two years, I’ve specialized in restorations, which is essentially the cleanup crew. If there is a sidewalk repair, we fix the grass around the new squares. If a sprinkler system gets ripped up during a dig, we repair the piping. I work with a 25-year Village vet named Johnny. If something happens in the Village, Johnny knows about it and he knows about it before anyone else, or so he’ll tell you.
Johnny is what some people would call eccentric. He has a violent aversion to the smell of bananas and has once or twice pulled the truck over because he saw a UFO. Johnny is quick to offer advice in between news segments on NPR, which he inexplicably refers to as PBR, and he never fully understands why the 7-11 guys don’t understand that when he says “taquizos” he means “taquitos.” Over the past two summers, I’ve become like a son to Johnny. When I told him about the internships not panning out, he was sympathetic but unabashedly eager to work with “the only seasonal worker worth a damn” again.
Johnny is only a single player in the most interesting cast of characters you’ll find outside of Coen Brothers film. There’s Keith, who doles out nicknames to pass time. (I’m Batman because I had to take time off two summers ago to be an extra in The Dark Knight.) There’s DGAF, which stands for, obviously, “Don’t give a fuck,” because, in all honesty, he doesn’t. Finally, in the fashion of nickname genius Andy Bernard, there’s Big Tuna.
Besides getting back into the routine of working for the village, there is another big lifestyle change awaiting me this summer. The end of my sophomore year means leaving the freedom and comfort of my room in my fraternity, and returning to the white, colonial-style dorm I call my house with my two full-time CAs, whom I so lovingly refer to as mom and dad. Though there is grass that needs mowing, trash to be taken out, and — yes — a curfew, I am able to look forward to that two week period where my parents are delighted to see me after being away at school, right before I turn into just another one of the kids.
And while I won’t be getting the experience and padding that make up a resume, thus helping my future career prospects, I do get something else I so desperately need: money. In this economy, especially when most internships are unpaid, I’m honestly lucky to have the Village. My sister applied for a seasonal position, which usually would have been a sure thing with me already working there, and she never even heard back from human resources.
Besides a little extra spending money come next fall, the other thing that this internship-less summer offers is time. For years, I’ve been telling myself I’d make time to do the kind of creative writing I’ve wanted to do since I was a second grader reading Spider-Man comic books. This is the kind of writing that I don’t have time for between classes and homework. In a summer where journalism didn’t pan out, fiction is going to take over. Who knows, maybe I’ll write something worthwhile. All I know is that people are always looking for a good story, even in this economy.