Not long before I sold my agency and moved south, I paid a visit to the office of a Wall Street client. It was always fun meeting with him because he told fantastic personal stories—sometimes they were funny, sometimes jolting. They weren’t jolting like the “party stories” college students are famous for, but jolting in terms of personal values.
My client had recently built a new $28 million home in the suburbs. He owned a few racehorses (one of the more expensive hobbies a person could enjoy). And he often took his family on exotic vacations in private jets. Imagine the stories someone like that could tell. I heard stories about contractors who didn’t speak English and built walls where there were supposed to be windows, special vitamin formulas for horses that could make them run faster, and a wife & kids enjoying a private Mediterranean villa while he took his jet to Belgium to close a few deals.
That last one was funny—the way he told it.
As always, we took a short tour through the company’s boiler room, a giant open space where 20- and 30-somethings with $200 haircuts all dressed in fine suits spoke rapidly into telephone headsets that were attached to their heads while they recited incredible investment opportunities to wealthy individuals who could afford to lose a lot of money for the chance at making a bundle. The boiler room was a hive of activity.
Those 20- and 30-somethings each held the title Investment Advisor.
I noticed each time I’d visit, about once per month, it seemed half of the faces were new and half that I saw the prior month was gone.
I saw something new on this visit, though. Some of the investment advisors, ostensibly those most successful in selling investment opportunities to wealthy strangers, had college interns dialing the phones and getting prospective clients on the line so the investment advisor wouldn’t have to wait. The interns were called dialers and I asked my client about them. “They free-up the advisors’ time so they’re always selling. The interns pick up the advisors’ lunch and dry cleaning too. Better yet, they don’t cost me a dime.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“They’re interns. College interns. They work for free. College interns are slave labor,” he said proudly.
That’s where the issue of personal values occurred to me. My client didn’t perceive college interns as people providing value. He didn’t consider one of them could possibly become a successful and dedicated investment advisor for his firm with proper training. He didn’t express his appreciation for their hard work. He didn’t acknowledge the opportunity to teach these eager students about the business world he lived in. He perceived them as free, no cost slave labor.
When I had my agency I always had 2 or 3 college interns aboard. Some were inspiring and I took them on as a mentor. Some felt free to ask questions so they could learn about the advertising agency business. Some had natural skills my staff and I were eager to nurture. Then again, some were intimidated and kept their mouths shut. And others sat in their chairs like lumps. But I always paid them well and kept them for as long as was specified in our original agreement.
After all, these were human beings aspiring to great careers, they were providing value and I felt it was my obligation to pay for that value. A paycheck is part of the workplace learning experience.
As a student who will likely serve an internship at some point in your college career, remember this story. Be wary of employers who don’t want to pay you. Yes, you may be asked sometimes to file some papers or fetch coffee. But you have a right to learn what it’s like to work as a professional in a business environment, to get access to executives who can answer your questions about items you won’t learn in college, and to receive a paycheck. Some universities believe course credit is compensation enough for your efforts, but it’s not. Money is integral to the learning experience, the employer/employee relationship.
I’d recommend you make “fair pay” part of your criteria for accepting an internship, if possible.