"“Ma’am, don’t leave your post!” the bailiff nearly shouted into the phone. “I think we’ve got an intruder. Don’t let him leave, and don’t you dare let him take anything out of that backpack!”"
A County Bailiff sat behind his computer screen, watching the
live security feed from the Courthouse.
As he muttered under his breath about how it was just “a typical Wednesday morning,” he saw something quite atypical from outside his window. He turned back to his computer screen, where he watched a stranger enter the building. The man was about six feet tall and extremely good looking; what the bailiff found concerning, however, was that the man carried a large, black backpack. He seemed like he was on a mission; he rushed up the stairs, skipping every other step, and quickly turned the corner towards the County Attorney’s Office.
As he muttered under his breath about how it was just “a typical Wednesday morning,” he saw something quite atypical from outside his window. He turned back to his computer screen, where he watched a stranger enter the building. The man was about six feet tall and extremely good looking; what the bailiff found concerning, however, was that the man carried a large, black backpack. He seemed like he was on a mission; he rushed up the stairs, skipping every other step, and quickly turned the corner towards the County Attorney’s Office.
By this point, the Bailiff already had the County Attorney’s secretary on the phone:
“No, I don’t believe
we were expecting anyone this morning,” the secretary told him, “I’ll go ask the other---“
“Ma’am, don’t leave your post!” the bailiff nearly shouted into the phone. “I think we’ve got an intruder. Don’t let him leave, and don’t you dare let him take anything out of that backpack!”
“Ma’am, don’t leave your post!” the bailiff nearly shouted into the phone. “I think we’ve got an intruder. Don’t let him leave, and don’t you dare let him take anything out of that backpack!”
The bailiff threw his office door open, bustled down the
staircase, and made a beeline for the door of the Attorney’s Office.
“Sir, I’m going to need
to look inside of your bag,” the bailiff told him. The suspect handed over
his bag, stammering on about having “scheduled a meeting.” The bailiff
practically ripped the bag open, revealing a computer, a peanut-butter and
jelly sandwich, and a folder labeled “Social Media Policy.”
“I’m just an intern!”
the man said, his beautiful blue eyes glimmering on his perfectly sculpted
face.
This experience, which I am, admittedly, still recovering
from, exemplifies both disillusionment and confrontation in my internship. I
often feel that, in my development of policy, my coworkers treat me like an
intruder and are afraid of the new ideas that I carry with me. However, through
reassessing my role and purpose and developing specific strategies for those
who feel uneasy about my work, I have learned to overcome these sorts of obstacles.
The attorney that I was supposed to meet with that day promptly ran into the
office and apologized for being late, and we had a successful conversation
about her goals for the office and her vision for how social media could help
the office accomplish those goals. Even if I am forced to have an “open-zipper”
policy on my backpack, overcoming confrontation in this way is worth the effort
(and worth almost wetting my shorts) so long as it helps me make my work at
Rice County a success.
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