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At one of my prior employers, there was a man named James who worked in the second-floor analytical laboratory. James’s lab was impressive: three GPCs, an FTIR, three GCs, XRF elemental analysis, and all the equipment needed to measure properties such as iodine value, acid value, softening point, and color. It was also packed. His shelves and refrigerator were chock-full of samples and raw materials that, to anyone else, appeared to follow no organizational system known to science.
But ask James, “Where’s the fumaric acid?” and—boom—he would reach onto a shelf and pull it out.
James knew much more than where the samples were kept. Over his career, he had served in nearly every technical role in the company: plant chemist, quality control, product development, plant support, technical service, and analytical chemistry. He knew the products, the processes, the plants, and the decisions that had shaped the business. He was an encyclopedia—although a living encyclopedia is better because you can ask it follow-up questions.
I usually visited James during the second or third hour of my day. My mornings often began by breaking rosin out of a bucket with a sledgehammer, charging it to a flask, turning on the heat, and waiting for it to melt. Later I would add pentaerythritol and let the reaction stir for much of the day, monitoring it carefully and making sure everything was operating safely. After a few hours of watching rosin melt and stir, with many more hours to go, I would develop a very scientific condition known as “cabin fever.”
That was usually when I found a reason to take a sample upstairs for testing...READ MORE...
By Olivia Jobes
VP Monomers Business
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