Yes, but I don't care
In the first five seconds, he'd told me his intention to become an intern. Within a minute I knew his college of choice, a brief history of the struggles he'd overcome and his promise to adapt to this and any situation. I had fetched him from the lobby, but my contact with the new temporary employee was supposed to end there. He latched on, seemingly searching for the right phrase that would allow me to rise above my status as a bottle-washer and elevate myself to hiring manager; he, of course, could be my first hire. He was new. He was nervous. He knew what he wanted. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and the benefit of my uncomfortable smile as I pawned him off on someone else. That wouldn't be the last I saw of him. Later in the day, unprompted, he'd tell me how quickly and efficiently he'd dispatched of the menial tasks my colleagues had set before him. I smiled awkwardly and said, "good."

I thought it was just me until he made a phone call. "I have a tendency to exceed expectations," he told the person on the other line.

I have met the proudest temp on the planet.