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Internship Experience

A Battle Cut Short

July 27, 2022

Scottish landscape with an individual in traditional Scottish attire playing the bagpipes

Charmingly chaotic, slightly stressful, and extremely enjoyable; that is how I would describe my last day at the Scottish Parliament and my overall internship experience.

That is what I think as I stroll towards the building. Having been locked in my flat under quarantine for the past week, the sharp Scottish wind tugging at my hair and jacket is a nice return to “normalcy.” As I report for duty one last time, all I can do is reflect on the incredible opportunities that I have taken or made for myself in two short months. I have no regrets about how I spent my limited time.

Now, at the end of what at times seemed like a battle, I recognize how important strategic planning and courage were to my internship. I feel confident in my ability to advocate for my development.

The first time I created an opportunity for myself, I was much less sure of what I was doing. I did not know my place in line. On the contrary, it seemed like the rest of my team was marching in perfect unison down the halls of the Scottish Parliament while I was stumbling behind, desperately trying to learn the ropes.

As a new intern, I was still a little unsure of the workplace dynamic; Maurice is definitely my boss, but is his assistant, Esther, also my boss? By week two, however, I had already drafted several Parliamentary motions and speeches.

I figured in about a month Maurice might ask me—and I would trust myself—to handle more serious work. But, I knew that if I waited for Maurice to ask, I would lose the chance to advance my abilities, understand Parliamentary functions, and show Maurice I was willing to take on important tasks. So, I decided to ask for a more meaningful project.

My decision seemed to be perfectly timed as Maurice presented a project the very next week.

“We are going to determine how much money the veterans’ charities of Scotland are contributing to mental and physical healthcare for veterans, then I’ll petition the government to allocate that amount directly to the charities.”

Maurice pitched the idea very passionately which is why I was shocked when no one stepped up to claim the venture.

In truth, I was not thinking of my plan to ask for a project when I volunteered. Maybe it was my desire to be perceived as hard working, or my interest in veteran’s work, or a combination of both, but I raised my hand and told Maurice I would be happy to lead the project.

“Brilliant! We will put you to work!” Maurice thundered, his voice echoing through the office.

Though I was now marching somewhat in line, no longer the misfit soldier of the regiment, I realized quickly that I was a bit out of my depth with the project. It ended up being much more than just several phone calls to Maurice’s military connections, a brief memo, and then being recognized as a dedicated intern.

My research efforts grew into a complicated compilation of statistics and figures that I struggled to make sense of, further hindered by my inability to find anyone with the answers I needed.

After a week on the battlefield, dueling with missing models, uncommunicative contacts, and discombobulated data, Maurice suggested that we retreat from the fight and seek answers elsewhere, effectively canceling my project.

Dejectedly waiting for the bus at the end of that day, I glanced across the street to the veterans’ home sitting across from Parliament. I knew our research could improve the lives of so many veterans across the country. It seemed unfair to them to quit.

Lifting my head (in the most Scottish fashion I could muster), I resolutely refused to leave the work unfinished. After a weekend’s hunt for useful contacts and proper research methods, I came back to Parliament with a research proposal for Maurice and several requests for my colleagues.

Now properly armed, I felt sure that this was a war I could win.

The next six weeks were spent meeting with various veterans’ charity leaders in Parliament and all over Scotland, visiting monuments and battlefields, deploying Maurice to passionately pitch his vision, poring over spreadsheets, and running figures by Maurice’s assistant Esther—who I had by that point determined was my supervisor, but not my boss.

There were difficulties and aspects of the project I did not enjoy; nerve-wracking meetings with charity leaders who were not expecting a 22-year-old intern, making dozens of phone calls per hour to annoyed veterans, conducting tedious statistical analysis, and trying to complete all my other work while dedicating myself to the veterans’ project.

But, these moments made the experience overall more meaningful.

At the same time I was caught up in the whirlwind-war of research, the world was getting swept up in a struggle of its own.

The 2020 COVID-19 pandemic had, up until that point, left Scotland in peace. Feeling pleased with our little army’s work so far, I took a weekend to visit Paris.

On a cloudy day that was not as endearing as Scotland’s cloudy days, Tuileries Garden before me, the Louvre behind me, I read the email that brought the battle screeching to a halt.

As I flew back to Scotland the next day, all I could think of was my project. I didn’t worry that it would be discontinued in my absence; I knew Maurice cared too much about veterans to quit now after we had come so far. But the thought of leaving behind all my work—my unfinished work—ate at me every hour that I sat through quarantine.

I enter the Parliament building keenly aware it is the last time I will do so. I find Maurice behind his desk; he should be in chambers, but he—like the great leader that he is—has come to say goodbye.

We chat as I gather my things and we take the lift down to the lobby. I hand over my security pass and turn to go. “What a great opportunity to work with you!” he shouts in his booming voice.

I realized at that moment that if I had waited for Maurice to ask me to lead a project, the chance would have come too late. I would be leaving Scotland the same little soldier struggling to keep up with my peers.

If I had waved a white flag and resigned myself to the easier tasks, I would never have grown as a professional, developed relationships with my colleagues, or begun one of the most meaningful projects of my life.

Even the moments I did not enjoy—moments of embarrassment, fatigue, and stress—contributed to my development.

Covid-19 ended my internship two months early, but I feel as though I lived a year in eight weeks. I took full advantage of the time I had, so my two-month internship felt complete and full—not incomplete or cut-short.

Though it was difficult to leave Scotland early, I left with the surety that Maurice—my research in his possession—would be able to complete the project and propose his legislation.

I did not get to fight the war for Scottish Veterans to its close, but I am proud of the battles we won in my time at the Scottish Parliament.