Here's an example of the kind of interaction I'm talking about that happened just yesterday...
INTERN: I hate sealing envelopes. It's by far the worst part of this job. No question.
CO-WORKER: That's because you lick them. I've told you at least a dozen times that's unnecessary.
INTERN: I know, I know. You keep telling me about some machine or something. But I don't know where that is or even how that would work.
ME: There are big companies that put thousands of envelopes in the mail every single day. Far more than we ever send from here. Do you really think people lick them all one by one?
INTERN: What I think is you're just trying to mess with me because I'm an intern.
CO-WORKER: Why would we do that...?
INTERN: Because I'm an intern!
ME: That is not an entirely unreasonable accusation.
CO-WORKER: Look, just seal the envelopes, okay? If you insist on licking them, don't bitch about it. Because you've been given other options.
INTERN: Oh yeah. Like the magical envelope-licking machine. Right. There are machines for everything around here!
ME: That sounds like you just hate machines. Are you Amish?
CO-WORKER: You know, you could just get a piece of damp sponge.
ME: Which isn't even a machine.
INTERN: I've tried that. I can't get it to work.
ME: You...can't figure out how to operate a sponge?
INTERN: I never said that.
CO-WORKER: You said you can't get it to work.
ME: It doesn't actually "work". It doesn't do anything but retain moisture. It has no moving parts. You get it wet and it just sits there, sort of like an old woman's...
INTERN: Stop. RIght there.
CO-WORKER: How do you take a shower?
ME: (muttering under my breath) I was going to say flower garden but whatever.
INTERN: I don't use a sponge! I use a wash cloth, duh.
ME: Hey, if you can't figure out how to operate a sponge, you're certainly not qualified to express sarcasm with the word "duh"!
CO-WORKER: What about washing the dishes?
INTERN: I have a dishwasher.
ME: Oh yeah. A magical dish-washing machine. Right. There are machines everywhere around an Amish farm...oh wait, no, there aren't!
INTERN: That is a real thing!
ME: Riiiiiiiight. Just put the dishes inside, push some buttons, beep-boop-boop-beep. 'Wow, thank you for the clean dishes, robot'!
INTERN: I'm not Amish. It's not a robot. And you have to add soap...
CO-WORKER: I can't get past the idea that you don't know how to use a sponge. I'm blown away by that, frankly.
INTERN: I didn't say I don't know how to use sponges; I said I don't use them in the shower or to wash dishes.
ME: Do you know how many envelopes you could have sealed in the time you've wasted trying to prove that sponges don't exist?
CO-WORKER: You said you couldn't get it to work!
INTERN: I meant, the sponge gets too wet and it's sloppy and...hold on, when did I ever say that sponges don't exist?
ME: I'm thinking all the envelopes. All of 'em.
CO-WORKER: What college do you attend? I think I really need to know where you go to school.
ME: It's got to be in some land-locked state where they don't have water where sponges can grow, so they build robots to wash their dishes instead. Nevada or Utah or Kansas or Michigan...
INTERN: Michigan is surrounded by lakes!
CO-WORKER: Is it a state college or a private school?
ME: Is it an Amish university that inexplicably offers degrees in the robotic arts and marine biology but you couldn't get in to either program and your parents shunned you because you were such a disappointment and now you express your bitterness toward them via hatred of robots and certain forms of aquatic life?
INTERN: ...
ME: Or something?
CO-WORKER: It's obviously a college with extremely lax admission standards.
INTERN: It is not!
ME: It's definitely a college that teaches Michigan is an island, apparently, since now it's "surrounded by lakes".
INTERN: You know what I meant.
ME: Somebody better tell Indiana it's a lake! I guess that means the Indianapolis 500 is a race for boats now.
INTERN: Michigan's not completely surrounded by lakes, it's mostly surrounded by lakes.
ME: None of which have any sponges growing in them. Huge surprise you couldn't cut it in the marine biology program.
INTERN: I never wanted to be a marine biologist!
ME: Tell your parents! They're the ones you're mad at, not me!
INTERN: I am not mad at my parents!!
CO-WORKER: Now I have absolutely no idea what you're even talking about.
ME: Yeah, don't try to draw us into your madness, you sponge-denying, robo-phobic envelope licker. We want nothing to do with your sinister plan to flood the great state of Indiana because you have Amish mommy and daddy issues.
INTERN: I take it back. This is by far the worst part of this job.
Some day, she will look back and realize that she learned something very important that day: messing with interns is a lot of fun.
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