The little patch of pavement in front of our local train station always makes for entertaining people-watching. If I get into the office before 8am (very rare unless I’ve been in Asia the week before) then I usually see the same characters doing pretty much the same things they were doing the last time I spotted them.

The man who runs the café on the corner will stand in his doorway with hands on hips and survey Marylebone station as if he owns it and will encourage his customers to order one of his coffees rather than going to one of the chains in the station. There are a pair of bankers who must take in an early round of squash before they head to their desks at Banque Paribas as they always have racquet bags and slightly damp hair – either that or they’re having an affair.

There’s a ginger-haired mom who likes floral wrap dresses who’s always carrying on the most animated discussions with her son and they always appear sunny and happy even if it’s pelting down.

Later on during the commuter crush the scene becomes busier and more muddled and there are fewer stand-outs or perhaps I lose interest in paying such close attention.

With the arrival of what’s supposed to be passing for summer the scene in front of the station has started to alter slightly. As many have fled London for their one or two weeks off, the human traffic has started to thin and a new flock of faces has started to clatter across the pavement trying to balance a scalding coffee in one hand and an overstuffed tote bag hitched over the opposite shoulder. Some of them are dressed in little suits with business heels (these are mostly girls), some are sporting ill-fitting blazers and too-skinny pants, others are doing a version of “sexatary” that they might have spied in the pages of Grazia and the rest look like they just tumbled out of bed and didn’t even bother to consult the mirror.

A few shuffle into the headquarters of an international booze brand that’s near the station; I imagine the suited brigade are heading to Paribas and a couple of media and technology companies soak up the rest.

Indeed, if it’s the start of August then it must be intern season.

There’s always a rather heated discussion in our office around March when the CVs start hitting out desks and the e-mails start coming in from parents keen to place their offspring in a good home for the summer. Do we really want to have more than two or three for a month? Do they need permanent mentors while they’re with us? What assignments should they focus on? Are they more trouble than they’re worth?

We have a pretty simple rule at our HQ concerning entry-level posts. Unless you have special qualifications or are coming into the business at a senior level, you start on reception.

If you can juggle multiple phone lines, organise bicycles to be sent to photo shoots in Spain, get journalists rebooked on oversold flights out of Nairobi, charm visitors, keep the front of house looking spotless, help the accounts department track receipts from hotels in Seoul, write firm but diplomatic e-mails to employees enforcing house rules and also wield trays of beverages hot and cold and remember who ordered what in a packed conference room then there’s a very good chance you’ll graduate from our finishing school and take up a post elsewhere in the company. Those who think such tasks are beneath them tend not to last too long.

So when intern season officially kicks off it’s always intriguing to hear how potential candidates view their assignments and life in the world of the working. Some recent gems from a round of interviews included: “I did an internship earlier and I was quite surprised that I was asked to help organise the library and file things”; “when I was at a creative agency earlier in the year I thought ‘let me have more input with the clients and do some writing’ but that didn’t happen, so that’s why I’m here”; “I don’t really want to help sort out other people’s stuff as I’d like to come here to work on my projects”; “before I start I just need to tell you about my summer travel plans and when I’ll need to take time off”.

I try to offer these interviewees a sympathetic and understanding smile and not write them off as a bunch of layabouts. I even resist the temptation to track down the article from the Christmas issue of The Economist that dissected the problems with this new generation of graduates (attention-seeking, needy, over-confident, comfortable). While there are always one or two that slip through the net and end up being something of a liability, we’ve also managed to find a couple of keepers who’ll stay on and rise through the ranks. People who don’t want to pitch in with a bit of heavy lifting, don’t know that Milan is a city in Italy and not Germany and are above offering decent service to clients, guests and colleagues need not apply.

Tyler Brûlé is editor-in-chief of Monocle
tyler.brule@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/brule