coffee, windex, and VeggieTales.

by Jesse

In order to earn my degree in music technology, I had to complete an internship. I wanted an internship in sound editing for film, so I applied to every studio in Nashville that had ever been involved with (or heard of) these things called Movies. 

Trillions of applications, phone calls, and interviews later, I ended up landing an internship at a studio that does the sounds and dialogue for VeggieTales.

VeggieTales!

So awesome, right?

Wrong. 

As it turns out, an internship at this studio was actually a cruel code for:

• filling my gas tank every other day (the internship was a 30 minute drive)
• working 8-9 hours after a full day of classes
• cleaning a hardwood floor with WINDEX??? on my hands and knees
• never even getting the opportunity to observe a real session in progress

Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed.

During my third week at this godforsaken place, my supervisor asked me to set out snacks and coffee for clients who would be doing an ADR (fancy name for VoiceOver) session that afternoon.

My subservient little intern self obeyed, and I dutifully got to work in the kitchen.

I'd just finished brewing the coffee when I heard a voice ask for some.

I hesitated for a moment: I knew this voice.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, that same voice said, "Remember kids: God made you special, and He loves you very much."

Bob the Tomato.

Holy cow.

I quickly turned around, expecting [of course] to see a very small red man.

Instead, I found myself face to face with a man who looked like he'd been dressed by a schizophrenic tourist: his dark brown hair was all slicked back and he was wearing cowboy boots and a Hawaiian shirt.

Even for someone who would be entertaining small children, this outfit didn't make sense.

I'd no sooner given Hawaiian-shirt-cowboy-boot-Bob his coffee when another man entered the room. He was a skinny older guy who kind of looked like Steve Jobs (RIP). He told Hawaiian-shirt-cowboy-boot-Bob that the producers were ready to start. 

And wouldn't you know it, as soon as the SJ lookalike opened his mouth, it was evident that he was the voice of Larry the Cucumber!

The narrators of my childhood morals were standing right in front of me.

[and were likely curious about this deaf/mute charity case of an intern.]

My eyes were bulging out of their sockets, my brain morphed into a bowl of cottage cheese, and my jaw had taken up residence on the floor.

I was so starstruck by their presence that all I had the wherewithal to do was smile and nod until they left the kitchen.

It took a while, but I eventually returned to normal: my eyes returned to their normal size, my brain turned back into a cluster of neurons, and my jaw overcame its temporary weakness to gravity.

I then busied myself with making their coffee and putting those nice jackets on the cups to protect their famous hands.

[maybe as a thank-you they'd offer to give me their autograph?]

I delivered their coffee with a creepy delirious grin on my face (think Salad Fingers), and was promptly dismissed by my supervisor.

Shocked and slightly embarrassed, I regained my composure and returned to my desk.

They eventually finished their session, and I was rendered speechless by their presence once again.

I walked them to the door, and they were nice and polite and wished me "a good afternoon".

And then 4 days later, I reached my 110 hour requirement for my internship credit and dropped that mutha like a hot potato.

BOOM.