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"I'm technologically impaired." This is the phrase I learned to say in the professional world. It's a broad phrase. It can mean anything from, "Where is the power button on this piece of &" to "The only thing I know about Java is how I like mine, non-fat and light on the froth."

When you say the phrase there are generally two reactions. The first is a look of endearment and empathy, usually paired with a light laugh and sometimes even a "me too!" The second reaction is the blank stare, which at times looks almost identical to its cousin, the death stare. This reaction is usually paired with an "oh, never mind then," or if you reside in Minnesota, a polite smile followed by the cold shoulder.

My boss and owner of the company 3Five Designs, Martin Sawinski, heard the phrase often this summer when I interned at the company. At the time, 3Five was taking on one of their biggest projects to date, creating thedusu.com, a website to attract and retain young professionals in the Twin Ports.

On the second day of my internship, Martin asked me to collect all the logos of the social networking sites that The DuSu had a profile on.

A simple task I thought, as I expelled a breath of relief. I still didnt know what to expect out of the internship and I was super nervous.

Thanks to Google images and the smooth right-click options of copy and paste on the mouse, I owned this task. I felt a sense of pride and a surge of confidence. I was going to be the best intern ever!

The feelings vanished when Martin popped his head back into the office to give further instructions. Martin started to speak in what I thought had to be a foreign language. As words like pixilation, resolution, and html coding spewed from his mouth, I had to wonder if he knew that he wasn't speaking English.

Then, in plain English, he said, "Can you do that?"

"Sure," I replied without hesitation.

Still stunned, trying to interpret the instructions I was just given, I wrote a few notes while nodding. Like most people in the United States, Martin interpreted my nodding as acknowledgement that I understood, and he left.

Outwardly I remained composed, but inside I was panicking. I was clueless. I had no idea how to do or check for anything Martin has just asked of me. Not to mention I had just blatantly lied to my boss on the second day of work. At one point, I thought about grabbing my bag and running out the door, never to return again. (Yes, I'm dramatic.)

Then, as I dropped my head and lowered my gaze in contemplation, my eyes met a white glassy mouse. Just when I thought my confidence couldnt be shaken anymore, I realized I would be working on a Mac. That was the final straw. At that moment, the fact that there was no right-click button, made me think I was going to end up as "the veteran", at some dinky truck stop restaurant with a sign boasting about their five-pound breakfast platter. The scent of bacon grease and maple syrup would be embedded into my skin, and I might even change my name to Fran.

While watching the buttermilk pancakes dance around my head, I was interrupted. "How's it going?" Lara, 3Five's super scribe extraordinaire, was in the office next to mine. I told Lara my task at hand and confessed that I wasn't sure about how to do everything Martin had asked me to.

Then, Lara taught me the phrase I would learn to love. "Oh, don't worry about it," she said, "I'm technologically impaired. I didn't even have a Facebook until Martin forced me to get one."

Lara also told me the agony she felt every morning when she walked into her office and saw the big obnoxious Mac sitting on her desk. She told me I was welcome to bring my laptop, which I did from that day on.

After talking with Lara, I went to Martin's office. It was difficult for me to admit my lack of computer skills to the man sitting behind a desk topped with a shrine of Apple products, but I knew I had to do it.

Martin peered at me from behind his enormous glossy white monitors. (Yes, monitors is plural because there were two of these Behemoths.)

Martin was understanding when I told him that I was "technologically impaired." Thankfully, I think Lara had paved the way already. He modified the task that he had given me and even tried to teach me a little bit.

During the internship, there were times I felt like an absolute idiot. At times I cursed St. Scholastica for costing so much, yet leaving me so unprepared. I questioned my major and googled things like the Peace Corps and how to be a trophy wife. I guess that's why students do internships though, to learn. I think that what I learned overall outweighed what I didn't learn about technology.