I hold an Angie’s List record. No, I haven’t done any research to prove it. You’ll have to trust me (as I unsuccessfully told Guinness World Records officials). To my knowledge, I’m the longest-running intern in the Angie’s List Publication Department, and probably in the entire world.

Being an intern isn’t the most prestigious job. I really resent how I spend half of each workday pushing cars out of the mud and doing frivolous, humiliating parlor tricks to amuse staff members. Of course, I look at the glass as half full: All those ruthless insults were actually “constructive criticisms.”

I’ve been at the List almost two years. As my desk neighbor Matthew likes to joke, that makes me a “senior intern.” Well, I’m sad to say I’m retiring that esteemed, albeit paradoxical, title. It’s time to move on.

In a few weeks, I’m graduating college and beginning a new epoch. I’ve been told the world looks much different to college graduates. Doors open. Gaps close. Wages increase. Mountains crumble.

I’m excited to experience all of that. Yet I won’t encounter this new world without feelings of gratitude and heartache. The truth is, I’ve really loved my internship at Angie’s List. I learned a lot, grew a lot, and never stopped having fun. By title, I was an intern, but not once did anyone treat me as anything but an equal.

So, I’ll miss it. My family lives in Georgia, and that’s where I belong. My second family, though, lives in the Blue House. And how do you say goodbye to such wonderful people? You don’t. You say, “Thanks.”