A long time ago, in a publication far, far away, Daily Intel editor Chris had an intern.* This intern was the child of a medium-level celebrity, so Chris was very kind to him and gave him a tour on his first day, even though he was a little unfriendly and wore stonewashed peg jeans. As the summer progressed, the department learned some things about the intern: To begin with, he'd been contacting interview subjects from his personal e-mail address, which was sinisterminister666@yahoo.com. Then he stopped speaking with the other workers in the office, who had done nothing obviously wrong other than not giving him a tour on his first day.

Eventually, if Sinister Minister wanted to talk to anyone in the office, he would ask Chris to talk to the person for him. If they responded, Chris would have to relay the answer, even if the intern was sitting in the same cubicle — a situation right out of every romantic-comedy sitcom that was ever on UPN. It got so bad that the intern was eventually fired, medium-level-celebrity parent notwithstanding.

Now the summer is almost over, and it's time for employee evaluations in offices all over New York City. In these, the bright young things inevitably talk about how they should have had more "hands-on" experience, and the employers roll their eyes at how the kids never once tried Googling the fucking answers to their questions before asking the company boss in the middle of a meeting. Sometimes, it feels like the interns are the only ones who get to air their grievances. ("Oh my God, I had to make so many copies. In color! And then I had to TRANSCRIBE AN INTERVIEW. I'm, like, dude, I went to Trinity. Fuck this. I should have worked at the tennis club again.")

So today we're inviting you, the real adults who are still working in August, to record your gripes. Tell us your nightmare-intern stories, from this summer or previous ones. Especially if they involve drunken office parties. The ones the interns don’t remember are the best ones of all.

*You'd think nymag.com would give us our own intern: We have to share three interns with the Cut, Vulture, and Grub Street. By the time they get finished blowing out Amy Odell's hair, making Josh Ozersky and Daniel Maurer's lunch, and giving Dan Kois and Lane Brown their scalp and ego massages, they barely have time to give us a pedicure. And they don't even wear matching outfits!