House style

I've been an editorial intern at the Museum of Contemporary Art for three days. I'm quite astonished that no one has come to my desk to critique my unconventional use of proofreading marks (my scratches lack the delightful grace of the real editors), or to correct my insistence on deleting the serial comma ("oh, that's ok here!"). Little by little, I am discovering the right way to edit, the house style according to the MCA. Though having the freedom to make mistakes and the trust of my supervisor ought to be self-assuring and exhilirating, a large portion of me pines for a boss who explains everything I'd ever need to know...no. I don't need anyone holding my hand. Shame on self-doubting me.

My background in writing and editing, instead of granting me the confidence I need, seems to spotlight my inferiority. I fear that with every mistake of mine the head editor finds, she and the rest of her staff will mock me, my school, my degree, my home state. I know that it's extremely egocentric to assume everyone is both noticing and judging my every move. It's just easier on yourself to assume that you're being judged instead of ignored.

And I'm honestly less concerned about my abilities as an editor (I just graduated, how much am I supposed to know, anyway?) than I am about my appearance, my wit, my knowledge of what is and isn't cool. I'm probably the youngest person in the office at 23 (or possibly tied with one other person), and yet I feel the most removed from what is and isn't the appropriate speech and dress of the young and hip. I'm the only one in the office who will wear dress pants (though less and less frequently), and even with my boyfriend's sloppy hoodie thrown over me, I'm still the preppiest person within sight. By far. A much more MCA dress would be an ironicly ugly grandpa sweater over pencil-thin denim (the staff actually had the second annual "ugly sweater day" the week I started). I sense myself as out of place as those serial commas.

My friend Ann, working in a posh independent advertising office, told me a similar story of how much more sophisticated and witty everyone who works with her is. But I would be wise to take her optimistic viewpoint on my own workroom situation:

"I mean, what if I looked around the office, and I was obviously the coolest person in the room? How depressing would that be?!"