It’s charming. But here’s the question I’ve been turning over in my mind:
With the twenty-one-year-old, we assumed we’d have to explain everything: how to write a professional email, how to show up on time, how to ask for feedback. We gave him the “intern projects”—the spreadsheet cleaning, the meeting minutes, the low-stakes tasks.
Here’s what I learned:
So here’s my slightly uncomfortable takeaway:
Not because they’re incapable. Because the territory changes faster than any of us admit. We’ve started pairing our interns—young and old, first-career and second-act. They teach each other. The twenty-one-year-old shows the fifty-three-year-old how to automate a report. The fifty-three-year-old shows the twenty-one-year-old how to run a meeting without an agenda descending into chaos. The Intern
Both assumptions were wrong. The younger intern struggled with confidence, but he learned our analytics platform in one afternoon. He caught a bug no one else had seen. He just needed someone to tell him, “It’s okay to speak up.”
With the fifty-three-year-old, we assumed the opposite. We gave him client calls, project ownership, and a seat at the leadership meeting by week two. We didn’t assign him a “buddy.” We figured he didn’t need one. It’s charming
Here’s a clean, engaging draft for a blog post titled . I’ve written it in a reflective, story-driven style (suitable for a career, leadership, or personal growth blog), but I’ve also included a few alternative directions at the end. The Intern We’ve all seen the movie. The one where a seventy-year-old widower, bored with retirement, shows up as a senior intern at an online fashion startup. Robert De Niro’s character, Ben, doesn’t know Slack from a slingshot. He uses a briefcase. He shows up early. He offers unsolicited—and unexpectedly wise—advice.
We treated them differently. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. Here’s what I learned: So here’s my slightly