By Nicki Resnikoff

I spent my summer working in the publicity department at Universal Music Enterprises. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. I figured that at my age, all summer jobs were waitressing or interning, thinking you’ll end up with some jewels of wisdom, but all you end up learning is how your boss takes his or her coffee.

I walked into my first day on the job completely inexperienced and unprepared.

My work in the field of publicity didn’t extend far beyond advertising football games. And as much as I like to think myself a music guru, with my extensive knowledge of everything from classic rock to rap (with a splash of techno in the middle), when it came to most things, I was completely clueless.

I stepped into the building, and right beyond the lobby was my domain: UMe. Big posters of artists ranging from the obscure to superstars adorned the walls. Cubicles circled by the surrounding offices were decorated with concert stickers and album covers.

The funky and chill ambience was interrupted by the startling sound of rap music. It came from one of my bosses’ offices. My very white, British, female boss’ office.

After getting over the fact that my boss was rapping about being a “hardcore gangsta,” I was ready for my first job. What could it be? Making calls to the people at "Rolling Stone?" Going to a concert and after-party? Taking inventory and packing boxes so my boss could move offices.

I spent the day counting more Moody Blues and Now That’s What I Call Music CDs than I knew existed and building up some serious muscles by carrying around huge boxes in my five-inch heels.

After one of the most exhausting and tedious days of my life I went to bed unusually early, conceding to the fact that I was destined to be doing busy work for the remainder of my summer. Boy, was I wrong.

The next day I came in wedges—anticipating the heavy lifting. I was surprised to find that I was expected to write both a press release and a children’s version of a Bob Marley biography to be included in a CD pack.

After edit after edit of the bio being rejected because my writing was “too sophisticated for kids,” and fewer edits of the press release, I finally got the hang of things.

I got into a groove—going to soundscan and marketing meetings, writing press releases, going through magazines to find mentions of UMe artists.

I even got to write pitch letters for a movie soundtrack as well as a band from Japan’s new CD to bloggers, college papers, and famous and accomplished writers.

Of course there was still the less interesting stuff—mailing, filing CDs, updating contact lists, and Coffee Bean runs (but those were more for me). Still, I couldn’t ask for a better job.

Then came June 25. Some people remember it as just another Thursday.  Some people remember it as the day Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett died. I remember it as the day all hell broke loose.

I wasn’t there that day, but the next day when I came in, everything was hectic. I honestly didn’t think Michael Jackson’s death would really make a difference to my work, as I thought he was on Sony (his Motown catalogue is Universal), so I sat down to work on a press release I had been working on. Big mistake.

Everything became about Michael Jackson. We tracked down Berry Gordy and Motown stars’ statements and CNN appearances.  We wrote press releases for the Michael Jackson and Jackson 5 CDs that had been in the making for a while.  Things went on like this for another week or two, and finally settled back down.

I got back to my pitch letters and arranging journalist interviews with bands, mailing packages, all the while attending meetings and learning all about the biz.

By the end of the summer, I had written countless press releases put up on the wire, called agents and managers all over the world (deciphering a heavy Irish accent is much harder than I thought it would be), counted thousands of CDs—mailed hundreds of them, and consumed about 50 tiramisu Iced-Blendeds from Coffee Bean.