(Moment of silence for my summer internship being over.)
The end of this experience has instigated a significant amount of reflection, some serious, some humorous and some … just downright flustering.
Here it is, in one neat & tidy list. My Top 10 Things Fluster Moments of Summer 2013:
#10. The man named “Tim” that I can’t stop calling “Jim” for some reason.
#9. The time I showed up to cover a township meeting … and forgot a pen. What kind of journalist is pen-less?
#8. When I went on a hike – solo – and encountered the skeletal remains of a deer/dog/woodland creature.
#7. I may or may not have swiped my water bottle once, causing it to spill all over my desk and phone. Good thing it was water. The phone looked a little grimy anyway …
#6. The time I was interviewing festival-goers. I thought I spotted a mother and son enjoying some lunch. So I said, “this is your son?” to the response of “No, this is my brother.” Oh, so shameful.
#5. The time I decided I would walk to a park in the city … and was wearing uncomfortable heels, which didn’t serve me well for the 3-mile round-trip trek. Needless to say, I walked a portion of the return trek with heels in hand, rather than on my feet.
#4. When I was at a book sale event conducting a video interview and a rather hefty man wiped out over some wooden planks. You can’t see him in the frame, but the thunk is audible. I was momentarily frozen in video-mode before I ran over saying, “Sir, are you okay?” Props to him for such resiliency.
#3. The time I was at a newly-opened dog park and almost face-planted thanks for a scurrying canine between my legs. And yes, his/her impact left a nice memory wound.
#2. When I interviewed an herbalist about mosquito repellent, and she gave me a bottle to keep. I was ecstatic, and ran into the office of my editor to tell her all about it. Lesson learned: journalists don’t take free stuff from interviewees – it’s a conflict of interest.
#1. And the icing on the cake, the cherry on the sundae, the pinnacle of all shameful moments was this:
Yes, believe it or not, I misspelled my own name. Just call me “Lindey.”
If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?