I turned down a job last month.
Those of you who've followed this blog or (God forbid) know me personally, will know that I've been actively looking for a new job for well over a year, with absolutely no luck, so this was a big deal for me and may come as a bit of a surprise for you.
It was great job that would pay well, working for someone I really respect, so I think I should probably explain myself. I'll get to the robots in a bit...
The job was a research post with great opportunities to develop my career in a dynamic group keen to make big steps quickly - potentially with the resources and enthusiasm to actually meet these goals. In academia, things can move very slowly, one reason why I've always wanted to work in 'industry' - a catch all term that researchers use to describe jobs that makes a commercial product, rather than academia, where the research is usually more driven by the desire to learn (this is changing, but that's for another time...). This post would put me in a great position to go into industry in 2 years, maybe a little longer.
The cherry on the employment-cake was that I'd also get to work for an ex-boss that I liked, knew our work styles were compatible and I was confident we could do good research together. All of these positives were why I applied, why I was pleased when I went for my interview and why I left the enjoyable interview with a spring in my step.
I was told that it might be a while before I heard back about the job and that they'd let me know when they'd be able to 'let me know'. However, in the end, they got back to me quickly with an offer of a role. Looking back, I think I probably knew straight away that something wasn't right. I felt really weird about the offer. Sad that I'd 'have' to take this job, that it was too good an opportunity to turn down, that all my investigations and inroads, however meagre, into life away from research was for nothing and that the decision had more or less been made for me by the offer of this great job.
Then, I realised something. If I was sad about taking the job, if I was sad to stay in research, I probably shouldn't do it! This sounds really daft, I'm sure. Of course this sounds like an obvious conclusion but it wasn't an easy decision to come to and I thought it might be helpful to others to explain how I got there...
I asked for a week to think about the offer. I don't think they were thrilled to wait but they'd been happy to tell me that I should expect a long wait and I think, as an interviewee, you should never forget that you are also interviewing them!
Over that week, I spoke to friends, family, current and past colleagues about my dilemma. If reading this, you are one of those people, then 'Cheers' - by getting things off my chest I started to come to some sort of decision about what I wanted to do, but I was still of the splintery-bum-brigade, not quite getting off the fence. For a number of complex reasons that I can't Athena Swan my way out of, the role would also involve a change of my personal plans for the next few years and I wasn't willing to commit to the job, or to turn it down, unless I was sure the role was worth making certain sacrifices for.
That week, I also went to a Science Museum Lates event. The theme was Robots. Pretty jazzy, I'm sure you can imagine. There were tiny cheetah robots, creepy salamander robots, robot hands and robot fish that could be controlled via a video game. In a word, it was excellent.
I sat on the floor and made a robot wasp. The wasp, on the other hand, was pretty poor (and I ruined a mascara trying to put stripes on it, oh the sacrifice!). Anyway, my point was, as I trundled around the museum, agog at the technology that others had designed, truly fascinated by the work and throughly engrossed in the best way to get my robot to beat my husband's in a race, I didn't feel inspired to run back to the lab to produce my own imagination-capturing-inspiring research. What I thought was, 'Wouldn't it be great to work here' (and the occasional 'I could've explained that better'). To talk about science to people who just want to learn about it, or who didn't realise they liked it and only came for the speed-dating, but stayed for the circuitry. The idea of that really grabbed me. I know one night on a special event, at one of the most well-known museums in a city known for it's museums, is hardly representative of the normal life of your public engagement/scientific communication/museum curating employee, but I was far, far more excited by the idea, the challenge and the opportunity to at least try to do something like this than I was of a certain job, well-paid, with the aforementioned great boss.
Fundamentally, I don't deserve the job. Somebody else will do that job well, somebody who will throw themselves into a research career, somebody who is hungry for this position - and that 'someone' is not me.
So, I guess, what I'm trying to say is I've come to a realisation:
When you're 19 and you're sure you want to do a job, when you spend years studying, learning and occasionally crying en route to that job, sometimes, ten years later, it might be OK to change your mind.
When I finish my twice-extended contract in less than three months, with no job prospects, I may live to regret this possible act of folly. Until then, anyone want to buy my robot wasp (the wings fell off in the race that I didn't win. I hope it's not a sign)?
Those of you who've followed this blog or (God forbid) know me personally, will know that I've been actively looking for a new job for well over a year, with absolutely no luck, so this was a big deal for me and may come as a bit of a surprise for you.
It was great job that would pay well, working for someone I really respect, so I think I should probably explain myself. I'll get to the robots in a bit...
The job was a research post with great opportunities to develop my career in a dynamic group keen to make big steps quickly - potentially with the resources and enthusiasm to actually meet these goals. In academia, things can move very slowly, one reason why I've always wanted to work in 'industry' - a catch all term that researchers use to describe jobs that makes a commercial product, rather than academia, where the research is usually more driven by the desire to learn (this is changing, but that's for another time...). This post would put me in a great position to go into industry in 2 years, maybe a little longer.
The cherry on the employment-cake was that I'd also get to work for an ex-boss that I liked, knew our work styles were compatible and I was confident we could do good research together. All of these positives were why I applied, why I was pleased when I went for my interview and why I left the enjoyable interview with a spring in my step.
I was told that it might be a while before I heard back about the job and that they'd let me know when they'd be able to 'let me know'. However, in the end, they got back to me quickly with an offer of a role. Looking back, I think I probably knew straight away that something wasn't right. I felt really weird about the offer. Sad that I'd 'have' to take this job, that it was too good an opportunity to turn down, that all my investigations and inroads, however meagre, into life away from research was for nothing and that the decision had more or less been made for me by the offer of this great job.
Then, I realised something. If I was sad about taking the job, if I was sad to stay in research, I probably shouldn't do it! This sounds really daft, I'm sure. Of course this sounds like an obvious conclusion but it wasn't an easy decision to come to and I thought it might be helpful to others to explain how I got there...
I asked for a week to think about the offer. I don't think they were thrilled to wait but they'd been happy to tell me that I should expect a long wait and I think, as an interviewee, you should never forget that you are also interviewing them!
Over that week, I spoke to friends, family, current and past colleagues about my dilemma. If reading this, you are one of those people, then 'Cheers' - by getting things off my chest I started to come to some sort of decision about what I wanted to do, but I was still of the splintery-bum-brigade, not quite getting off the fence. For a number of complex reasons that I can't Athena Swan my way out of, the role would also involve a change of my personal plans for the next few years and I wasn't willing to commit to the job, or to turn it down, unless I was sure the role was worth making certain sacrifices for.
That week, I also went to a Science Museum Lates event. The theme was Robots. Pretty jazzy, I'm sure you can imagine. There were tiny cheetah robots, creepy salamander robots, robot hands and robot fish that could be controlled via a video game. In a word, it was excellent.
I sat on the floor and made a robot wasp. The wasp, on the other hand, was pretty poor (and I ruined a mascara trying to put stripes on it, oh the sacrifice!). Anyway, my point was, as I trundled around the museum, agog at the technology that others had designed, truly fascinated by the work and throughly engrossed in the best way to get my robot to beat my husband's in a race, I didn't feel inspired to run back to the lab to produce my own imagination-capturing-inspiring research. What I thought was, 'Wouldn't it be great to work here' (and the occasional 'I could've explained that better'). To talk about science to people who just want to learn about it, or who didn't realise they liked it and only came for the speed-dating, but stayed for the circuitry. The idea of that really grabbed me. I know one night on a special event, at one of the most well-known museums in a city known for it's museums, is hardly representative of the normal life of your public engagement/scientific communication/museum curating employee, but I was far, far more excited by the idea, the challenge and the opportunity to at least try to do something like this than I was of a certain job, well-paid, with the aforementioned great boss.
Fundamentally, I don't deserve the job. Somebody else will do that job well, somebody who will throw themselves into a research career, somebody who is hungry for this position - and that 'someone' is not me.
So, I guess, what I'm trying to say is I've come to a realisation:
When you're 19 and you're sure you want to do a job, when you spend years studying, learning and occasionally crying en route to that job, sometimes, ten years later, it might be OK to change your mind.
When I finish my twice-extended contract in less than three months, with no job prospects, I may live to regret this possible act of folly. Until then, anyone want to buy my robot wasp (the wings fell off in the race that I didn't win. I hope it's not a sign)?
Its never too late to change direction and there is an advantage in 'science communication' to have an academic or industrial background. You have first hand experience of 'how science works' and can talk as an expert in your field!
ReplyDeleteHoly moly - a 'comment'!
DeleteThanks Sian, these jobs all seem to want media graduates and veterans of scientific communication but I'm going to give it a try!
Do you have the inclination or resources to do some or all of this MSc: http://courses.uwe.ac.uk/P90012 I did the PGCert a few years ago and really enjoyed it. It is also one of the most well respected courses on the topic around and they try really hard to link you up with experience/volunteering/paid opportunities so might give you the background you require to get the jobs you want.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the link - I'm starting to think a formal qualification might be the way to go. I'm throwing myself into a lot of different things at the moment to try and get some experience wherever I can - I'm in the process of writing my next post on a day with our public engagement department! It'll come down to if I can find a new (and fulfilling) job and if I can afford to do it, I think.
ReplyDelete