Making Professional Connections at My Kitchen Table

In the summer of 2019–back when the world felt normal–I completed an internship with Delta Airlines in their Washington, D.C. Government Affairs office. The experience was glamorous. I attended banquets in D.C., accompanied Delta’s lobbyists to meetings with members of Congress, traveled to Delta headquarters in Atlanta, and even attended a few Washington Nationals baseball games during work hours through Delta’s team sponsorship.

Despite the luxuries, I never quite felt in control of my internship experience. I learned about the company and the unique dynamics of our country’s political center, but I didn’t gain the professional experience I had hoped for. This was in no way the fault of Delta. They provided every resource for me to make my internship experience enriching and valuable. It was my faulty expectations that led me to believe that they would know how to make my internship experience valuable for me. I thought that by simply showing up each day, I would slowly cultivate priority relationships and professional competencies, absorbing experience without proactively seeking it, like a sponge in a kitchen sink.

Frankly, I was nervous to do more proactive work. Every week, I’d knock on my supervisor’s office door, sheepishly poke my head in, and give her a few quick updates. But I never had the resolve to speak with her about my expectations or desire for more meaningful work. I let uncertainties about my role as an intern inhibit my ability to develop meaningful relationships and seek out substantive experience.

I received a glimmer of hope on my last day of work when one of the lobbyists I admired approached me with a smile. “You should be sure to keep in touch,” he said. “Send us an email a few times a year. We like to keep track of our interns, and we’d love to hear updates from you!” I smiled and promised him I would, encouraged by his invitation.

Several months later, I sat down at my computer and composed personalized emails to each of my old co-workers at Delta. The lobbyist’s encouraging words still ringing in my ears, I shared with them some updates about my semester and my heartfelt congratulations that their beloved Washington Nationals had won the World Series. I asked questions about their work and their families, and then, one by one, I hit the “Send” button, whisking the emails off to their waiting inboxes. I could already envision my own inbox filling to the brim over the next few days with excited, friendly replies from my old colleagues.

First a week, and then a month went by. I received zero replies. My inbox remained empty.

I began to question the value of my Delta experience. What was the measure of a successful internship? I had certainly gained a good deal of professional experience after doing political research and working closely with Delta’s lobbyists. I pondered why I had not left a more meaningful impact on my co-workers. I concluded that, although a long-lasting professional network was not the sole indicator of a successful relationship, I would try again the following summer to build more meaningful professional relationships in another internship, wherever it may be.

Consequently, this past summer, I was eager to find another internship amid the madness of the coronavirus pandemic. Determined to not make the same mistakes as the previous summer, I reached out to a local lawyer who specialized in China law. His Seattle-based law firm, Harris Bricken, is dedicated to helping clients navigate China’s complex legal issues.

Though Harris Bricken does not traditionally offer internships to undergraduates, I made a compelling case for an internship that would allow me to channel my interests in both Chinese language and law into a professional development experience. They kindly offered me a remote, unpaid internship for the summer.

In terms of glamour, my internship with Harris Bricken seemed as far from my Delta experience as possible.Meeting

I didn’t walk to a beautiful office building in downtown D.C. Instead, I stayed at home in Utah. I didn’t sit at a desk with a placard that said, “Welcome to our team, Ryder,” adorned with a picture of a majestic Boeing 747. Instead, I sat at my kitchen table.

I didn’t have access to an employee fridge with endless Coca-Cola or a snack drawer with a never-ending supply of Delta’s delicious Biscoff cookies (this was an especially hard pill to swallow). For Harris Bricken, I worked entirely from my laptop, and any interaction I had with a co-worker or supervisor was by phone call or email.

Having learned my lesson from my past internship experience, I decided from day one to not let any personal insecurities create obstacles to my own professional development. I was approaching graduation and had plans to attend law school in my immediate future. I hoped my internship with Harris Bricken would help me expand my professional network and provide actual legal work experience. I wanted to do what I wasn’t able to do at Delta: build meaningful relationships with my co-workers that would outlive my eight-week internship.

The remoteness of the internship posed a distinct challenge. Because all of my interactions with the firm were virtual, I had a hard time understanding the company culture and visualizing the structural hierarchy of the office. I would get pits in my stomach every time I joined a meeting and struggled to remember each individual’s name and role. Without any face-to-face interaction, how would I develop professional relationships that would last?

To answer this challenge, I set a specific goal to focus on developing meaningful relationships with a select few lawyers. My cohort leader and I came up with a few simple plans to allow my vision to become a reality.

First, I would be proactive in my conversations with my supervisor, Dan. I scheduled a phone call with Dan every Friday morning, giving me a chance to build a personal connection and learn the secrets to his success. Exhibiting the charm of a Midwestern family man and the quickness of a world-renowned lawyer, Dan became both a friend and a mentor.

My second goal was to showcase my skills and produce tangible work that would contribute to the work my priority relationships completed for the firm. For example, Harris Bricken runs an influential China Law Blog where experts provide a nearly constant stream of valuable information on the complex and ever-evolving beast that is China’s legal system.

My primary responsibility as an intern was to write articles for the China Law Blog. This proved to be the perfect opportunity for me to fuse my English and Chinese majors towards a common purpose, and synthesize my critical thinking ability with my knowledge of Chinese culture and language.

My desire to prove myself was strong, but I quickly learned that the key to my success was not in exhibiting my strengths and flexing my skill, but rather in being teachable and shedding my ego.

In my first week as an intern, I received an email from Steve, a lawyer in the firm. It read, “The Chinese government just updated their cybersecurity laws. Read the amendments and compose a blogpost.” Unfazed by Steve’s seemingly terse instruction, I quickly dove into the new legal code, for which there was not yet an English translation. I navigated the complex legal terminology in Chinese, wrote a draft, and sent it to Steve.

The following day, I received his reply. He abruptly explained that I completely misunderstood the amendments and that my blogpost was full of errors. My mind scrambled to think of an excuse that wouldn’t make me seem like an uneducated simpleton. I thought about sending an email back that read, “Sorry, Steve, I sent you the wrong draft. Those were just my notes!” Instead, I confessed that I really didn’t understand and asked if he would have time to get on a call and explain it to me.

Although the subtle frustration in his tone expressed the urgency of a bigwig lawyer and none of the lilting charm of my supervisor, Dan, Steve was gracious enough to help me understand my errors. With Steve’s instruction, I revised my draft and published it on the blog.

I felt immense gratification at having faced my challenges (and embarrassments) head on. I also developed a deeper and more trusting relationship with Steve. By building mutual trust, I felt comfortable reaching out to Steve repeatedly for guidance, and Steve likewise requested my help on several other projects throughout the summer.

At Delta, I treated the HCOLL course like an impersonal script that told me everything I needed to say when talking to my supervisor or asking to work on a special project. However, the “impersonal script” turned me into an intern-robot.

At Harris Bricken, I realized that the course is actually a personalized roadmap to help interns accomplish their specific vision. By making concrete plans each step of the way, I was able to use the HCOLL course to develop long-lasting professional relationships and gain incredible legal experience.

Now, six months after my internship has ended, I sit at my laptop and compose an email. I type, “Hello, Dan,” “Hi, Steve,” and “Hello, Jonathan.” I give each co-worker a brief update about my life and professional progress. I thank them again for their help as I learned about China’s cybersecurity, national security laws in Hong Kong, and intellectual property rights.

A familiar uncertainty begins to creep in as my mouse hovers over the “Send” button. What if I just hear crickets again? What if I don’t hear anything back? But then I reflect upon my most recent internship experience. I’ve learned that uncertainty comes with beginning a professional life. It is the insecurity that comes and must be overcome in any new experience. Meaningful growth only occurs outside of the comfort zone.

As I reflect on the goals I had set this past summer and the daily steps I took to achieve them, I feel reassured. I press “Send.”

The following day, I receive a series of thoughtful replies from my former co-workers. The messages are full of warmth and invitations for further connection. They say, “There’s an online seminar coming up that I think you’d enjoy; here’s the link,” and “Next time I’m in Salt Lake, let’s get lunch!”

As I read through these replies, I feel gratified knowing that I did more than just add a line to my resume.

I accomplished my goal of building lasting professional relationships. My internship may have been remote–spent at my kitchen table–but my connections became close.