I’m freezing as I write this because the air-con is on the fritz; so allow me to vent a little.
The bulk of my servitude at TOAD consisted of scrounging around for interesting things to do in a fortnight’s time, then writing about these 32 events in a pithy, off-the-cuff and conversational manner. This could sometimes feel like the literary equivalent of head-butting the pavement, but I hope our readers have found some use in my recommendations.
‘Oh’ I hear you say ‘That can’t be all you had to do!’ I assure this hypothetical readership that this is all too true: I also had to research and write articles others were too snowed-under to put together, whilst conducting, editing and transcribing barely-intelligible interviews over dodgy phone lines. Near the end of the week, I helped provide material for the ‘Radar’ section of the magazine. I did this in the soul-crushing belief that little of what I had written would get more than a cursory glimpse. Did I mention I haven’t been paid for this? Such is the fate of the intern.
And yet, despite all this, I’ve had a great time; and it’s the people here that have made it that.
Our editor for instance, cultivates an aura of barely-concealed rage; striking down those who would question the magical qualities of his beloved hummus, whilst having the unnerving habit of waving pointy implements around as he talks. He assures me that the latter is completely normal in his native Lebanon. My terror is bridled somewhat by his laid-back dress sense, love of video-games and tendency to hum the Superman theme when he lets his mind wander.
The deputy editor’s job in the social dynamic of TOAD appears to be as an interpreter of British slang for the rest of the office. Since I’ve been here, I’ve seen her alternate between four distinct emotional states: comforting professionalism, perfectly-timed deadpan snark, confusion at the incompetence of others and fits of giggles. Then, there is the Nightlife editor – an extremely smiley and impeccably dressed Aussie. Her job, outside her professional duties of course, seems to consist of making up for the fact that no natural sunlight ever enters the office.
Next is the Food editor, who fills the grungy goth quota every magazine should have. She is tireless in her attempts to take the magazine in a ‘darker’ direction, and her desire to write in the third person puzzles and amuses me in equal measure. Finally, the ub editor: she’s supposedly here to make the pages look as well-organised as possible, but really she’s our resident expert on Abu Dhabi – having lived here longer than anyone else in the office.
What could have been a terrible experience was turned into eight enlightening and entertaining weeks with people I’ve enjoyed seeing in the morning. It may sound unproductive, but without the banter, the quality of the work would surely suffer tremendously; the breezy, irreverent atmosphere of the TOAD office is reflected in the pages of the magazine. I’d recommend interning here to anyone.
Now, if only the air-con had a setting other than ‘arctic’ and ‘off’.
