An Overture for Elevator Music

Right now, I am sitting in Ann Arbor, back at the University of Michigan where I am a continuing my studies after a summer spent interning in Des Moines, Iowa. These have become small details that I appreciate more as I reflect on my internship over the summer in Des Moines, Iowa, underwriting multifamily real estate for a management company. Looking back, I have been exposed to and subjected to many nightmares over the summer. I will try to summon a few from where I attempted to bury them in my mind.

I have seen flat corn fields that stretch beyond the capacity of the human eye. I have worked with colleagues that dressed like they worked for a hedge fund on the east coast. I have learned why the property management industry is dominated by women. I have been consumed by the societal norm of handling issues over email rather than turning and talking to the person on my left. I have acquired a daily schedule for when and which employees use the men’s restroom only stall and would now like to lose that information.

I have been told by my boss in all earnestness that I should not work too hard as I am only paid by the hour. I tried Blue Apron and am happy to report that I am no better of a cook. I have listened to country music for so long that I now allegedly mutter tractor engine parts in a soft twang in my sleep.

I have now heard -- and am powerless to describe -- a grown man imitate the sounds his baby makes when it defecates.

I have discovered, to my delight, that there was in fact a single multicultural restaurant, but was disappointed to see that they put their asian food on pizza. I was even more astonished to learn that Iowa is the most cultivated state in the country, yet somehow only offers pubs and a few pizza restaurants.

I met the most adorable old asian woman whom I bought my groceries from at the farmer’s market every Saturday morning. I have enjoyed many hours in my building’s hot tub. I have developed a facial expression that discourages any engagement from a supervisor while I ‘appear’ to be working though I’m likely just watching Jon Stewart’s best roasts of Bill O’Reilly. I have developed the ability to create complex excel models without ever using the mouse. I attended my first ever comic con and it will be my last. I have listened in on phone calls where my employer has actually pulled the “the line is breaking up” tactic while crumpling a brown bag to avoid investors. I listened against my own expense to a twenty four year old graduate of Iowa State give a lengthy monologue on the best beer money can buy, Natty Light. I found him later reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by the pool drinking his sacred water.

I have learned how to respond to people when asked how my summer went because explaining the nuisances and despair of corporate boredom in Iowa is likely not what people want to hear. I have been subjected to the shame of adolescence at the monthly happy hour in the office. I briefly revisited my Paramore phase but was careful not to dip too far into that hole. I have burnt a pot of coffee in the office and felt the holy wrath of glares by the women in HR for the rest of that morning. I have spent too many hours at the comic book store dualed with a coffee shop that reminded me of home.

I have spent many weekends staring down at the pool of my building watching middle-aged adults have more fun than me. I slept through my first opera. I calculated IRRs for individual units at several hundred unit properties in the valuation process. I learned that Iowa has the most golf courses per capita of any state in the U.S.

I have interned at the world’s most boring real estate office in the nation’s most boring state. I have voluntarily ran errands for the CEO just to leave my cubicle, even when it meant driving his wife to the airport on my own gas money.

The recruiters that have asked what I have learned from my prior internship were given the usual rundown--a valuable experience learning finance in Des Moines, Iowa. I was obviously met with the “Oh, you worked in Iowa? That must have been boring.” response several times but before having the chance to extend on the thought, the conversation was moving swiftly on to more concerning matters.

Unseeable by the naked eye, there are realities persisting in a corporate company’s office in Iowa that needs to be dissected if one is going to understand what it means to be a nineteen year older intern working alongside middle aged men halfway through their retirement savings. It takes college graduates many years to settle on a job or company that aligns with their values. Ruling out options is slow, but in Iowa, it could not have been quicker.