Opportunity and Belonging

An Intern's First Work Trip: Lessons in Asking and Belonging

Ask, Or the answer is always no  

I am on the way home from my very first Work trip. How exciting it was to have even had the opportunity.

My first internship has reached 10 months and counting. In a standing weekly meeting, my project lead and another team member were discussing the upcoming on-site meeting. She, the team member, asked me if I was to attend. This being the first I have heard of it, my response is no, and she suggests speaking with our manager. It felt weird asking my manager about being able to attend the meeting. It feels weird asking her for anything at all. She is very quick and speedy, and I register my questions as molasses that will slow her down. She says yes.

After following along with the surprisingly up-to-date documentation to learn about booking and travel, and then having selected an expensive flight, a cozy hotel, and a darty rental car, a knot of doubt surrounded me.

• Why would they spend this money on me?
• What business do I have attending this meeting?
• What will my presence actually supply?

In trying to unbind myself, the manager agreed to meet with me for a quick five mints at my request. This time, listening to the part of me that once was excited to go, she said that it would be a good experience, a great chance to meet other team members and also visit the new location. She adds that people are the most expensive check we have around here, and you get to learn and be trained, which is the best use of funds.

Work Day 1/2  

30 minutes early. The building is made of glass. It is nice and the kind that one who loves space would like to work in. Standing in the lobby of the meeting building, with my only moment’s old printed visitor badge, I watched as a completely separate group of people meeting in this exact location began to de-bus and packed themselves into another room. The badge proves that I, too, am meant to be here. Once the lobby is settled, a man walks from nowhere and sits on the couch. I walk and sit next to him and ask if he is with the group. After confirming yes, I introduced myself to him, and he to me. I realize I already know who he is. I have heard his name since my first meeting on this project in May ’24. Asking his last name, real casual like, he confirms he is who I thought, and we chat a bit further. His leaving the company at the end of the week is the reason we have all come to this meeting in the first place. I tell him I have been hearing his name for almost a year, and it is a pleasure to meet him. Until now, he has probably only ever heard of me or seen my name on some git PRs. Not too soon, and before I could become too excitingly silly, another member approaches, and I am shown to the meeting room, leaving PI to welcome others in.

  In this room, on three sides made of glass, is a conference table and chairs, coffee, muffins, and additional chairs that line the wall. Most of the conference table seats are unclaimed; that knot returns to me. In response, I sit in a chair along the wall, set my things down, and leave so as not to disturb what I call ‘the real people’ (the people who had a reason to be there). Looking around this corner, I knew there were only so many places I could go and only one place I should be. With that, I returned to the conference room and my things. A different team member looks at me and waves me over to the table. My arm, invisibly restricted by that knot, points to myself and mouths, ‘me?’ with a questioning face, and I am very tempted to look behind me, but I know there is only a wall. I smile as he nods yes, and I move to the seat beside him. Introductions are made; I am the only intern, and the meeting carries on. Questions I had were asked by others in the group. More time passes, and the knot turns into a comfortable nothingness, falling away from me. I begin to feel that I belong. I am just another developer here because I work on this project the same way they all do.

Work Day 2/2  

10 Minutes early Today is a different room, a larger amount of people, and this day, there are not enough seats for everyone at the conference table. With a squeak of the chair, the doubt knot creeps up around me, and I am taunted by my thoughts over and over of the idea that someone else should have my seat. At this moment, I am no longer a developer but a seattaker. Today, with a new agenda and questions from yesterday that were asked but not answered, I was indexing my mind for things to ask. Good interns do that, right? The default resolution for me is to come up with ‘W’ questions: who, what… I find a ‘Why’ question and proceed to share it. The context of the question left in the room, asking it, leads to about an hour-long conversation with others piggybacking on. A home run of a question, if you ask me!

Throughout this day, I watched the PI to get to know him better. I watched his face as attendees made it cringe or shake in disagreement. He knew that some things said were the wrong way to move forward. He intervened when necessary; other times, it seemed he had to let things and the following decisions be left for the continuing party to fix the problems that began here. He knew his time was over, yet, even on his way out, he was courteous and loving to the project that he carried.

  With more for me to want to talk to him about, asking him for a moment to chat later in the day, this final day, was easy. Quickly jotting down the question after searching my brain for content I had hoped he would find profound.

Having been a part of this project since the beginning, where have you recognized a gap in development that an intern would find suitable work in doing that would make her a better developer?

He answered and said that it indeed was a good question. Our conversation was long for an impromptu break time. He suggested creating a blog, as he told me about his own.

And with that, Hello World!

As the agenda items finish, the group concludes itself. The after-chat commences. He then hands me a book. YES! A book. Wow. How cool! This developer sees the developer in me. Sitting in the now almost empty room, reading the back, flipping through chapters, I think I should get him to sign it only to flip once more and see that he had already done so. He writes that I should never stop learning and wishes me luck in all my efforts.

Filing the memories away  

My feet are kicked up on my carry-on suitcase in the airport terminal as the pieces of this experience lattice together. Exploring his blog just a bit after pulling it up on my phone, I see a post that begins to hint at his reasons for leaving.

I hope to be like that: Gracious to my team on a project that I let push me far from the door of intellectual desire. I want to be true to my career goals and be my most innovative self. Solve problems. He mentions attending conferences, which makes me brighter, as one of my goals is to be a keynote speaker.

The Grey’s Anatomy song plays gently in their airport speakers. The one Dr. Hunt sings. Chasing Cars. This is the song that should play as the soundtrack to his post. The only reason is that, in his words, it seems he forgot his world, All in his efforts to do his passion. To be a problem solver. To be the best developer and the most brilliant version of himself he had ever been.

We’ll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don’t need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world? 

         

Finishing his post, I play with the idea that I do not want to code anymore. Laughable considering I stand to graduate in 5 Weeks with an MS in CS and a Concentration in Cybersecurity. I love programming and problem-solving. But I struggle now to think I am done with it. With more reflection and as the song continues, I see that I can not forget my world. My world is one of puzzles and mystery, and I gladly get stuck because that feeling of finding the answer lends such incredible moments of satisfaction. My goal in this field has always been to be the brightest, most capable version of myself. With the lyrics fading out, my resolve grows stronger. My fleeting lack of wanting to continue as a developer was a fear of failure conflated with passion. Instead, it is the case that I want to be like him. I hope to one day write an email that says I am one of the strongest developers in the department, as he did. I am scared I may not get there, but I can try. The goal is to be tentative in my decisions but not let them prevent me from trying. I should make mistakes. I should get red errors and have my terminal scream at me. I should break my code so that the only way around it is to start over and, in doing so, learn what to do next time. Then, start again with different mistakes and lessons to learn. Again.

-msiat (my sister is a techie)