Dear underpaid internship coordinator who would rather eat reduced-fat coffee cake than read this cover letter,

I am writing to you regarding that internship in which I have no real interest. My hope is that I will get the position and slap that bad boy on my resume, so that eventually, although we are in the midst of economic turmoil, I can get a high-paying job and buy myself a lot of nice things. Things like, you know, gadgets. I plan on buying enough gadgets so that I won’t have to do anything other than control the gadgets, which, in return, will control me.

During the school year, though, I am a member of a club. The club’s not really significant, though. I only joined because the flyer on the back of the bathroom stall said every meeting would have free food. I didn’t know soda qualified as food.

I am also on the executive board of Greek Life. This shows my creativity. I help decide the themes for the parties. I have to be original with the theme, while abiding by the guideline: Show as much skin as possible. I often like to add a wet substance to the party. Things like Jell-O and paint, or, if my right brain is slow that day, a simple hose will suffice.

Another reason I should get the internship is that I go to Syracuse University. That alone ought to get me the job. Syracuse is known to have great connections to the city, so as long as I name-drop Otto, I’m golden.

The great thing about the internship is that it works perfectly with my major: undecided. My major is so vague and non-existent that virtually any job will compliment it.

The way I see it, a college degree doesn’t even matter. If half of Hollywood could bail early, why can’t I? Celebrities drop out a class or two short of graduation. Seeing the success they’ve had, I plan to schedule a hair appointment at the time of my last final.

I have attached my resume, which includes every little thing I could possibly think of – most of which I did for the sole purpose of adding them to the page. The clubs whose meetings I stumbled into when looking for the computer cluster are on there, as well as the one my roommate is in and talks about frequently.

For previous work experience, I have included my first job as an ice cream scooper, my second job as an Abercrombie ‘model,’ if you call standing at the front of the inhumanly loud store allowing the Abercrombie stench to seep into my pores a job, and of course, the illegal bartending gig.

I have also provided a section titled SKILLS. I thought it was fitting to include that I am capable of using a PC keyboard and mouse, and I can maneuver a Mac on occasion.

I considered adding that I am an ambidextrous pong player as well as an impressive procrastinator, but I thought I’d let you figure those out on your own.

At the bottom, I have a list of references for you to call. My elementary teacher, my best friend’s mom, and my college adviser who continuously mistakes my last name for my first will all be happy to talk to you.

Thank you for choosing my letter as your paper basketball, I hope you made the shot on the back of your office door.

Talia Pollock’s columns appear Wednesdays. She enjoys the fact that she shares the journalism major with Brad Pitt, Halle Berry and Denzel Washington. She can be reached at tpollock@syr.edu.

Published on November 18, 2008 at 12:00 pm