In the first room an intern was told to write down every phone number she knew.
In the second room an intern was told to watch each season of the Flintstones and make a mark every time he saw a dinosaur. They were looking for an episode to offer the new brand partner for use in a sugar cereal commercial, but the CEO of the brand was a god-fearing man who didn’t believe in an old world. The intern’s strongest find was a nineteen-second stretch of dinosaurlessness in which Fred is buried alive in the backyard and yelling for help.
“This is not going to cut it,” the content strategist said to the intern.
“Why don’t we just try, like, Scooby Doo?”
“Don’t fucking get me started on Scooby Doo.”
“He won’t do ghosts?”
“Smart, confident, unmarried women.”
“Jesus, he objects to Daphne?”
“He objects to fucking Woody Woodpecker!”
“Two dicks. I can see that.”
“Listen.”
“Listen,” the intern said, putting a hand on the contest strategist’s shoulder. “Popeye!”
“We don’t own that.”
“The Jetsons, but in Heaven.”
“Isn’t the Jetsons already set in heaven?”
The intern laughed but then saw the content strategist was not smiling. He could hear the various low sounds of all the other interns working in all the other rooms, doing who knew what.
The intern took a big breath. “The Jetsons is not set in heaven, no.”
“Then where are they?”
“Just, the future.”
“Well,” the content strategist said. “Same thing.”
“Um…” the intern said, before he was escorted back to the first room.
In the third room an intern was crying and a supervisor was saying, “Yes, yes, great, but can you do it with a little more moxie?”
In the fourth room an intern was struck in the face with a stress ball and asked to record his feelings. They didn’t want this product being used as a weapon. He was struck again. It needed to be soft, but not too soft. Again. It needed to have give, but not—
“When you whip it, yeah,” the intern said. “It hurts.”
“Even the smiley one? Even the one that looks like a little earth?”
“Especially that one.”
