The Intern

I am starting a new strip and to get ‘er done I decided to take on an intern. It was an exhaustive search, mostly because no one applied. That is so typical of today’s generation. They insist on instant gratification and don’t want to work for free. Spoiled brats.

After months of looking, the applications finally began to trickle in, meaning I got exactly one. It was from a girl called Remi. Intrigued by the name, I looked it up and Remi is from the French word remigious, meaning “oarsman.” When I told her that, she snorted (literally – she snorted) and said she was named after a Remington shotgun, then refused to go into detail. Then she smiled in a weird, creepy sort of way and looked out the window.

Remi never provided me a resume or portfolio, even though I asked her for one several times. She made vague references to a riverboat job and a short stint as a rodeo clown, but her point was that it didn’t matter what her background was. She wasn’t getting paid.

It was difficult to argue with her logic.

So from now on, Remi will assist in kicking around ideas for civilian cartoons. I have to admit, however, that our first session at the doughnut shop was a little awkward, since she had a tendency to think all of my ideas were, in her words, “stupid.”

For her first assignment, I asked her to come up with some potential names for the strip. Here are some samples:

Death of the American dream
Bad jokes and bad art
All interns should get paid
Anguish
Workers of the world unite

Frankly, she kind of scares me.

Welcome aboard, Remi, and please go get me a cup of coffee.

Or not. If you want to. Never mind, I’ll get it.