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LOVE LOST IN COSTA RICA
Unpaid intern gets Agasi on the Ambassador
You know some people just can't figure out why a
motivated, well-educated 28 year-old guy is
working as
an unpaid intern at the U.S. Embassy in Costa
Rica...and to be honest with you, I'm not sure if
even
I (the guy described above) can offer a good
explanation. After all, it's hard to make a living
on
0.00 Costa Rican colones per week (which,
using this morning's exchange rate from the
Wall Street
Journal, now equals 0.00 U.S dollars).
However,
what I
do know is I'm happy...actually, really happy!
And
despite the fact that I have watched my year end
W-2
wages steadily decline as I shifted from the
private
sector to the family business to the glamorous
life
of an unpaid intern, I truly and honestly am
enjoying
life and all the experiences it is sending my
way.
For example, take last Monday afternoon. My
office
phone rang, and the caller ID
read
AMBASSADOR DODD'S OFFICE. Obviously, someone had
misdialed my extension. For kicks, I picked up
the
phone and answered in my usual fashion, "Jeff
Duchesneau, overqualified unpaid intern, can I
help
you?"
It was the Ambassador's secretary calling
to
let me know that the Ambassador had heard that
the
other intern and I played tennis. He scheduled a
doubles match against him and his press
secretary for 7:00 the next morning.
I live for moments like
these.
So needless to say, I was like a giddy little kid
before the first day of school, tossing and
turning
all night long. Heck, I was already dreaming
about
how to work this on to my resume: Spring 2001 --
Ambassadorial Recreation Coordinator. Oh, yeah I
liked how that sounded!
The big question was what to wear. My U.S.
Congressional tie seemed too formal and, after a
bit
more thought, pretty damn stupid since I've
never before
seen anyone wear a tie to play tennis.
Perhaps
my Old Navy American flag shirt...nah, too
overtly
patriotic. I finally settled for a 1993 Andre
Agassi
designer top, with the just the perfect splash of
fluorescent green. Ah, so out of date, but yet
so
right for the occasion.
We arrived at the Ambassador's residence at 7:00
sharp to find he and his partner already
warming
up. As if it wasn't intimidating enough playing
against a U.S. Ambassador, we had to play against
a
competitive one at that. To cool my nerves, I
started focusing my thoughts on the beauty around
me;
the fresh raybeams of Caribbean sun, just
beginning to
peak over the lush, green, coffee-laden hills; the
gentle cantering of the yellow bellied tropical
kingbirds (tyrannus melancholicus) playing about
the
yard. Finally, I was relaxed. Now let's get it
on!!
Oh baby, the ground strokes were flowing with
natural
ease and my serves landing with an elusive spin,
causing Señor Diplomat all sorts of problems. It
was
quickly 2-0, advantage interns. My
partner was
also having an excellent game, powering in an
exceptionally strong serve. Wwe soon found
ourselves
ahead by 4-0. By this point we were hoopin' and
hollerin' and high fivin' all over the court,
while
our foes across the net were uttering quite a
variety
of very undiplomatic Spanish and English
vocabulary.
And after one particularly excellent backhand
put-away by Yours Truly, I swore I heard the big guy
mumble, "Damn that friggin' unpaid intern." By
8:15
we had secured the match with a two set 6-2, 6-4
victory.
What a great feeling! My rice and beans
breakfast
afterwards never tasted so good. When I arrived
at
work two hours late (after all, I was playing
tennis
with the Ambassador), I noticed my message light
was
on. It was the Ambassador's secretary again,
asking
me to call her right away. Looks like I was
becoming
pretty popular. I dialed her extension:
"Hello, Ambassador's Office."
"Hi, this is Je...” I couldn't even get it out.
"You beat the Ambassador!" she hollered into the
phone. "You not supposed to win."
"But, I was just....." CLICK! She was gone.
The entire day I had the feeling that I had been
blackballed, as if the whole Embassy was
whispering to
one another as I passed by:
"Hey, that's the unpaid intern who beat the
Ambassador
in tennis."
"No? He didn't? The Ambassador is never supposed
to
lose."
"I know can you believe it, what a tragedy."
To be honest, it really didn't phase me.
Afterall,
this was payback time. Payback for the State
Department who wrote me a letter saying I had
missed
passing the Foreign Service Exam by a single point and
to try
again next year. Payback for the Department of
Commerce, who cut the Commercial Service budget,
and
with it my "promised" one year paid position with
the
Embassy. Payback for all the interns out there
who
just want to be recognized for the work they
do.
Three days later the Ambassador left Costa Rica,
never
to return. Some say it was because his tour of
duty
up and President Bush was to appoint a new
diplomatic
Chief of the Mission. But I know it was because I
whipped
his diplomatic ass.
By Jeff Duchesneau
032701