Two years ago, I decided to make a significant change in the way I valued myself and the way I wanted others to value me. I realized that the implications of an unpaid internship are not uniform across the industry (though they should be), and that some of the biggest names severely abuse the position. While some studios may not even realize they’re in the wrong, I’m sure there are some that choose to turn a blind eye when it keeps their bottom line looking good.
I will preface this article by saying that it is not intended to hurt or demean any business or individuals. It is merely a record of my experience in a truly dissatisfying internship experience, and how I chose to address that situation. Names have been changed to protect the identities of the employees, interns & businesses.
I will preface this article by saying that it is not intended to hurt or demean any business or individuals. It is merely a record of my experience in a truly dissatisfying internship experience, and how I chose to address that situation. Names have been changed to protect the identities of the employees, interns & businesses.
Several months into my time spent in Nashville, I landed a dream internship withStudio A, one of my top 3 studios. The opportunity was over a year in the making, started by a phone interview with the studio manager upon completion of my undergraduate program in 2012. The interview went great, but since I had no solidified living situation in Nashville, finishing my graduate program in Orlando seeming like an easier path. The studio offered to keep my name on record for whenever I could give them solid availability. Perfect.
Getting the internship was surprisingly easy compared to the interview processes I went through looking for a paying job to support myself while interning. I called the studio manager in October 2013, explained that I had just completed a 6-month internship with Studio B (also a top 3 studio), and that I was looking to find another studio to work with. The phone call lasted about 5 minutes, and I was told that because of my experience with Studio B and the studio manager’s recollection of our previous communications, the gig was mine.
My first week wasn’t so bad. I worked mostly day shifts that week, and was taught the basics by another intern. I learned that the studio had a strange structure when it came to job titles and roles. There was obviously the studio manager that I interviewed with, and underneath him was a team of maybe half a dozen shift managers. These shift managers were interns that had been there longer than they could get credit for, and made minimum wage (or slightly more) working part-time as studio staff. The shift managers would also assist on various sessions, but it was clear their main function was to supervise the interns. In addition to this team, there were a few techs to maintain the equipment and an educational staff that taught classes to certify students in audio engineering (these programs are becoming more common as studios look to supplement their income).
The first couple of weeks, I was introduced to a team of over a dozen interns. We would go through and make sure that each room was tidy and stocked, and we were expected to stay out of the way if anyone important came through. We were also responsible for a lot of runner duties, and kept busy between Guitar Center, other studios borrowing equipment, and food orders. Toward the end of week 2, I was asked by a shift manager to come back later that night to help set up for a major session. I was excited for the opportunity to finally get hands on again.
I arrived on-time with about 5 other interns and a new shift manager that I hadn’t met. He showed me how they listed out the equipment that would be used on the session while everyone was arriving. It was very similar to the last studio’s documentation so I felt pretty comfortable getting started. Unfortunately, I didn’t really get to do anything that night. The shift manager told me new interns were not allowed to set up delicate microphones (this included tubes, ribbons, and vintage) which were 95% of the microphones used on the session. Instead I volunteered to help set up patching, Pro Tools, phase testing, etc. Nope. Those were all tasks reserved for the interns he trusted to do that task. I was told that there were too many interns on the setup and that I could go home since I wasn’t able to do anything but stand to the side and watch.
Fast forward another week and repeat the situation. Days spent cleaning and driving around, learning nothing. Another shift manager thinking it’s the first time I’ve ever set something up and instead of showing me their process, he told me that since he hasn’t seen me before he wasn’t comfortable with me plugging in a tube mic. The whole time being told by the other interns, “that’s just how it is.”
Getting the internship was surprisingly easy compared to the interview processes I went through looking for a paying job to support myself while interning. I called the studio manager in October 2013, explained that I had just completed a 6-month internship with Studio B (also a top 3 studio), and that I was looking to find another studio to work with. The phone call lasted about 5 minutes, and I was told that because of my experience with Studio B and the studio manager’s recollection of our previous communications, the gig was mine.
My first week wasn’t so bad. I worked mostly day shifts that week, and was taught the basics by another intern. I learned that the studio had a strange structure when it came to job titles and roles. There was obviously the studio manager that I interviewed with, and underneath him was a team of maybe half a dozen shift managers. These shift managers were interns that had been there longer than they could get credit for, and made minimum wage (or slightly more) working part-time as studio staff. The shift managers would also assist on various sessions, but it was clear their main function was to supervise the interns. In addition to this team, there were a few techs to maintain the equipment and an educational staff that taught classes to certify students in audio engineering (these programs are becoming more common as studios look to supplement their income).
The first couple of weeks, I was introduced to a team of over a dozen interns. We would go through and make sure that each room was tidy and stocked, and we were expected to stay out of the way if anyone important came through. We were also responsible for a lot of runner duties, and kept busy between Guitar Center, other studios borrowing equipment, and food orders. Toward the end of week 2, I was asked by a shift manager to come back later that night to help set up for a major session. I was excited for the opportunity to finally get hands on again.
I arrived on-time with about 5 other interns and a new shift manager that I hadn’t met. He showed me how they listed out the equipment that would be used on the session while everyone was arriving. It was very similar to the last studio’s documentation so I felt pretty comfortable getting started. Unfortunately, I didn’t really get to do anything that night. The shift manager told me new interns were not allowed to set up delicate microphones (this included tubes, ribbons, and vintage) which were 95% of the microphones used on the session. Instead I volunteered to help set up patching, Pro Tools, phase testing, etc. Nope. Those were all tasks reserved for the interns he trusted to do that task. I was told that there were too many interns on the setup and that I could go home since I wasn’t able to do anything but stand to the side and watch.
Fast forward another week and repeat the situation. Days spent cleaning and driving around, learning nothing. Another shift manager thinking it’s the first time I’ve ever set something up and instead of showing me their process, he told me that since he hasn’t seen me before he wasn’t comfortable with me plugging in a tube mic. The whole time being told by the other interns, “that’s just how it is.”
You can probably tell by this point from a business perspective where the breakdown is. If upper management would review their program for interns, they’d see how lack of communication between staff is ruining progression. Moreover, the educational experience that an intern would traditionally get on slow days has been replaced by the educational program at the studio. Both leave a gap in the requirements of a successful internship.
I started looking for everything I could to make this internship more meaningful. I offered to cover shifts for other interns and tried to pick up shifts whenever something eventful was going on. That week, I was able to meet some incredible artists in passing, and reconnect with several studio musicians that I hadn’t seen since my internship with Studio B. But by the end of the month, I reached a point where the studio had dispelled any admiration I had for it’s history and industry-leading image.
My final night at the studio was roughly a week before Thanksgiving. There were no sessions that night, and only myself, two other interns, and the shift manager. The shift manager informed us it was deep cleaning night, and effectively made us an unpaid maid service for 7 hours. From 6 PM until nearly 1 AM, we cleaned. Stuff that was presentable, even immaculate, was expected to be cleaned again. I had to clean one bathroom (sink, toilet, and mirror) three times because the cleaner was leaving streaks on the porcelain. Floors that had been swept and mopped during the day were to be swept and mopped again. Water bottles and can labels were to be turned out. Even the fucking toilet paper needed to be hand folded into a diamond point.
I didn’t cause a scene. I didn’t refuse to do anything that was asked of me. I just worked in silence and left at the end of the night. I didn’t feel ashamed of the work I was doing, and I would have actually been willing to do these menial tasks if there was some kind of educational or career-driven benefit. I felt embarrassed that this was how I was putting my education to use, an education that I continue to pay nearly $100,000 for. Just to think, I paid a school six figures so I could scrub a dozen toilets and work a part-time job to pay for income-restricted housing. This was my dream studio, destroyed within a month of working for them.
I called the studio manager the next morning and told him I would continue to work my shifts through Thanksgiving if they needed me, but that a better option had presented itself (which honestly could’ve been anything at that time). He informed me that they were slow enough that they wouldn’t need me, and wanted to make sure I was aware the school would not award credit for an unfinished internship. Luckily for me, Full Sail’s internship program is a broken system in its own right (more on that later), which basically makes internship credit worthless.
Part of me wanted to tell him everything wrong with their system, but it’s not my place. They’re the one’s running their business. They’ve made the investment in the space, equipment, and “shift managers” and it’s their right to run things how they want. I wish them success with their educational facility and continued internship program, but hope they realize that one will have to replace the other if they continue their current practices. Mostly, I hope the other interns find a way to make their time spent at the studio meaningful in a way I could not.
My final night at the studio was roughly a week before Thanksgiving. There were no sessions that night, and only myself, two other interns, and the shift manager. The shift manager informed us it was deep cleaning night, and effectively made us an unpaid maid service for 7 hours. From 6 PM until nearly 1 AM, we cleaned. Stuff that was presentable, even immaculate, was expected to be cleaned again. I had to clean one bathroom (sink, toilet, and mirror) three times because the cleaner was leaving streaks on the porcelain. Floors that had been swept and mopped during the day were to be swept and mopped again. Water bottles and can labels were to be turned out. Even the fucking toilet paper needed to be hand folded into a diamond point.
I didn’t cause a scene. I didn’t refuse to do anything that was asked of me. I just worked in silence and left at the end of the night. I didn’t feel ashamed of the work I was doing, and I would have actually been willing to do these menial tasks if there was some kind of educational or career-driven benefit. I felt embarrassed that this was how I was putting my education to use, an education that I continue to pay nearly $100,000 for. Just to think, I paid a school six figures so I could scrub a dozen toilets and work a part-time job to pay for income-restricted housing. This was my dream studio, destroyed within a month of working for them.
I called the studio manager the next morning and told him I would continue to work my shifts through Thanksgiving if they needed me, but that a better option had presented itself (which honestly could’ve been anything at that time). He informed me that they were slow enough that they wouldn’t need me, and wanted to make sure I was aware the school would not award credit for an unfinished internship. Luckily for me, Full Sail’s internship program is a broken system in its own right (more on that later), which basically makes internship credit worthless.
Part of me wanted to tell him everything wrong with their system, but it’s not my place. They’re the one’s running their business. They’ve made the investment in the space, equipment, and “shift managers” and it’s their right to run things how they want. I wish them success with their educational facility and continued internship program, but hope they realize that one will have to replace the other if they continue their current practices. Mostly, I hope the other interns find a way to make their time spent at the studio meaningful in a way I could not.
This particularly bad experience was bookended with two of the best internships I could’ve asked for, but was the main contributor to my decision to no longer seek out unpaid internships when returning to Orlando. It amazes me that once I made that conscious decision, I was able to go full-time and receive two promotions within 2 months.
I went a year after that continuing work in retail and sales, using my free time to develop and cultivate relationships with studios, musicians, and digital agencies. Time that was never available when working part-time and interning. Time that allowed me to establish Granite Entertainment & begin a role as a Marketing Specialist for one of the largest publishers in the country.
We are all working to constantly grow and improve, and there are plenty of people that can provide insight to help us. There are also those that will take advantage of this, and it is up to each of us to seek out the opportunities that are worthwhile. If you’re looking to start an internship with a company, it’s important to start with a goal in mind of what you’d like to achieve (and no, the potential of employment isn’t enough). Internships are a two-way street, and while there’s nothing wrong with helping your employer maintain an image, don’t let them use your internship to replace a paid position.
I went a year after that continuing work in retail and sales, using my free time to develop and cultivate relationships with studios, musicians, and digital agencies. Time that was never available when working part-time and interning. Time that allowed me to establish Granite Entertainment & begin a role as a Marketing Specialist for one of the largest publishers in the country.
We are all working to constantly grow and improve, and there are plenty of people that can provide insight to help us. There are also those that will take advantage of this, and it is up to each of us to seek out the opportunities that are worthwhile. If you’re looking to start an internship with a company, it’s important to start with a goal in mind of what you’d like to achieve (and no, the potential of employment isn’t enough). Internships are a two-way street, and while there’s nothing wrong with helping your employer maintain an image, don’t let them use your internship to replace a paid position.
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