Monday, June 10, 2019
By:
Every summer NIST hires close to 200 college students for intern work. Hip, spry, and eager to work, these young folks are almost exclusively placed in research laboratories. My position as a policy intern is more than unique; it marks the first time the Office of Advanced Manufacturing (or OAM for the initialism inclined) has treaded those beguilingly tranquil waters that is hosting an intern, meaning AIP, OAM, and myself are all equally invested in ensuring the success of this flagship. Fortunately, our efforts have borne fruit, and a liberal serving at that. These past two weeks my office has well occupied my time with a variety of assignments, and I’ve noticed a strong underlying theme: access to information. Put succinctly, OAM seeks to facilitate the creation of a sophisticated and superior advanced manufacturing infrastructure in the United States. To do this, the office must connect politicians, bureaucrats, industry leaders, and public interests and coordinate their individual efforts to align with the goal of securing America’s role as a leader in advanced manufacturing and materials. The characters of our nationwide play span across the entire public-private workforce, and their successful contribution to our policies hinges on our ability to provide them accurate and relevant information about the vast network of players. To assist their efforts on information sharing, OAM has enlisted the use of two assets I alone in the office possess: inexperience and sweet, sweet ignorance. You see, my dear readers, there is nothing in this world quite like a 21 year old outsider with no knowledge of what you do to tell you what you’re doing wrong. Every generation has a champion, and I’m finally capitalizing on what makes mine so great.
My fresh eyes have been directed towards the office’s website. The goal is to have a center of information that is accessible, palatable, and understandable for shareholders and the interested public. I play the layman, and my role is to finely comb through the website and identify what doesn’t make sense to your average “peep on the street.” That’s on the public stage. Privately, the office manages a sharepoint account to store information and resources for internal purposes and external sharing with participating organizations. Its current status is “hot mess,” and I’ve been asked to provide recommendations on how to reinstate order so that people may--with minimal confusion--access what they want when they want it. It’s their data, and they should use it when they need it. I suppose you could call me a modern-age J.G. Wentworth.
Aside from these assignments, my mentors also try to expose me to the politics of the job. My long line of Mather ancestors were privy to an environment where briefings and hearings were on a perpetual rotation. The desperate scramble for a lawmaker’s attention results in a Hill brimming with only the most happening of events. The aura of an agency, however, has quite a different flavor. Though without the hustle and bustle of our legislators’ inaction, NIST still sees politics well at work out in Gaithersburg, Maryland. On Tuesday I attended an all day VCAT (Visiting Committee on Advance Technology) meeting. VCAT, a team of esteemed and incredibly successful academic administrators and industry leaders--most of whom are career scientists, meets annually on the NIST campus to hear a series of presentations on the state of the laboratory, the accomplished goals, and the desired progress. VCAT provides feedback and recommendations throughout and submits a written report. FYI intern Samantha Mary Staskiewicz (who was visiting NIST’s campus for this very event) and I sat in on the meeting throughout its entire duration and even had the privilege of briefly mingling with “Father” of the internet Vint Cerf. He complimented my bowtie. That was nice.
I’m not limited to events in Gaithersburg. My mentors see terrific value in sending me on the occasional trip abroad. This Thursday I attended a congressional briefing on metamorphic manufacturing. Now, for all those reading at home, I understand the words “congressional briefing” may conjure a scene of congressmen peering from their perches as experts and bureaucrats report on information they find relevant to crafting smart laws. My oh my, what vivid imaginations you all have. Congressional briefings are presentations given by experts (so far, so good), they typically take place in the Rayburn House Office Building (alright, so a slight step down in venue), and are rarely ever attended by actual members of Congress (and there’s the kicker). The briefing was rather well attended, but I soon realized it was only the free lunch that chummed the water and brought out the congressional interns for a rapid feeding frenzy.
Since the briefing was in the heart of DC, and my office is approximately 80 minutes away by metro, my mentors were so kind as to give me the day to work from home. I took the opportunity to make good on a Department of Energy networking connection Lisa had arranged for me. To the uninitiated, this likely reads as nothing more than a fortunate, professional meeting, but to those who have come to even superficially understand the ambitions of Nicholas D. Stubblefield know it is so much more. Oh, ladies and gentlemen, Heaven’s gates were open unto me, and the elevator ride to the Office of Nuclear Energy provided my glorious ascent. I believe success is more easily achieved through goal making, and my goal is to one day become Secretary of Energy. That’s not what the meeting was about, though. I am planning on writing a senior thesis on a topic related to nuclear energy, and I met with the Office of Nuclear Energy’s technical advisor to answer my questions about the industry, provide resources, and--as a happy bonus--better shape my thesis topic. I was just simply giddy from the time they badged me to the time they took that badge away when I left (I was really hoping for a momento).
The weekend witnessed many delights with my cohort. I could list them out for you as some of my peers have done, but instead I think I’ll hone in on one specific activity: The Magic Gourd. There’s really not much to be said about it. It’s a Chinese restaurant, it’s 350 feet away from our housing, and the quality ranges from mediocre to all the way down to what I ordered. It was not groovy. It was not groovy at all.
And there we have it. Two weeks down, tales to tell, and nothing but pure and unadulterated fun enjoyed (oh, and the Magic Gourd too).
Nicholas Stubblefield