This Front Desk Friend is most likely named Barb, Deb, or Beth, and her youngest kid just flew the coop for college. The empty-nester has a newfound penchant for Pinterest, and she can't wait to share with you a hundred exciting ways to reuse toilet paper rolls! You suffer through these torturous conversations for one reason: Barb/Deb/Beth puts out some amazing candy on her desk. I'm taking Halloween-sized Milky Ways, here.
Preferring short sleeves to long, glasses to contacts, and Second Life to human interactions, the IT Guy (Steve, I'm guessing), stays crouched in his office, which is really just a closet next to the server room. His desk is a foldable card table, which you awkwardly hover over as you explain, for the eightieth time, that yes, you do need permission to stream YouTube videos because it is a vital part of your internship experience.
This person is probably actually named Joy, and accents her pencil skirts with bright cardigans and headbands. She still proudly displays her sorority letters above her desk, which is outfitted entirely in matching pink and green accessories. She is like a rainbow of happiness wrapped inside a dew drop of promise, but has no idea how to actually do her job. Sure, her smile can make the paralyzed dance, but you can just forget about her returning your birth certificate. Like your W-4 (and your respect), she lost it.
Your overachieving counterpart was taking notes on a legal pad from day one, eagerly asking questions about dress code policy and the boss's kids. You, meanwhile, were cast in the shadows while The Other Intern volunteered for every menial task, making you look like a lazy a-hole for not jumping at the chance to get rid of that rusty grocery cart in the parking lot. There is a slight feeling of satisfaction, though, knowing that you actually left that grocery cart here after trying (and failing) to use it as a sled over winter break. But that's your little secret.
Nothing like the Receptionist, the Boss's Assistant is an entitled prick, living under the delusional impression that he is actually Second in Command, when really he just gets the First in Command's dry-cleaning. His Ikea-inspired desk sits lamely outside the boss's office, where he answers calls on a Bluetooth and drinks tea from a 100% eco-friendly thermos. You ask him only once if he would like to get lunch with you, to which he responds, "Oh, I'm sorry, I have a golf outing this afternoon." What this really means is, "the boss is going to get hammered at a golf course and I have to drive him home afterward."
In the real world, this guy is a 7 at best. But in this small prison of fluorescent lighting and off-brand Febreeze plug-ins, he is like a real-life Jim Halpert. You go out of your way to walk by his desk, taking the long route to the bathroom or getting a cup of tap water instead of visiting the water cooler. Often times you walk by while reading a file, so that you can not only walk slower, but you can look smart at the same time. Every time your eyes meet the back of his head, your heart is reminded of that beautiful morning in the parking lot when he said, "I think you left your lights on."
Eunice is the absolute worst. She wears loafers with bulky socks, and all of her sweaters have shoulder pads. She takes ten years at the vending machine, and always ends up choosing Mounds--yeah, she does that. Why they even have Mounds in the vending machine, no one knows. And at one point you felt bad for this awkward blister (there's no better way to describe her), but then she pushed both the third and fourth floor buttons on the elevator at the same time, and you were stuck in a claustrophobic hell for two hours with a woman eating a Mounds bar. Eunice is quite literally the embodiment of everything that is wrong with your internship...and quite possibly the world.