From: elitecustomercare9@airline.com
Dear Dr. Postdoc,
....
As a Premier member of our Mileage Plus program, you are one of our most
valued customers. It is our privilege to serve you.
Regards,
Sanjay K. Hathi
Airlines Customer Relations
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Postdoc paradox
I make less money than a flight attendant, but at least I get obsequious emails from airlines' Elite Customer Care Departments.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Time-management II:
I've found a few time-management resources:
The iprocrastinate podcasts can help you procrastinate for a good several hours! Seriously, they summarize personality psychology and research on the area. I had not known of the different models for personality psychology, for instance. From what I have covered so far, task aversiveness is most associated with procrastination: basically, people who are less self-disciplined or ambitious and impulsive are more likely to procrastinate. Only a small subset of people seem to procrastinate from perfectionism. Somehow, listening to the podcast motivates me to do even the annoying tedious tasks that I have to do, such as the endless literature summaries I've been assigned (and my advisor isn't around for me to ask him for something more relevant.)
The book _How to Write a Lot_ written also by a psychologist. It's very short, and the basic point is that you should write every day and you will not be successful unless you do write every day. 2 hours a day, set a goal for each section, and keep track of whether you meet the goal. It was worth checking out of the public library.
The iprocrastinate podcasts can help you procrastinate for a good several hours! Seriously, they summarize personality psychology and research on the area. I had not known of the different models for personality psychology, for instance. From what I have covered so far, task aversiveness is most associated with procrastination: basically, people who are less self-disciplined or ambitious and impulsive are more likely to procrastinate. Only a small subset of people seem to procrastinate from perfectionism. Somehow, listening to the podcast motivates me to do even the annoying tedious tasks that I have to do, such as the endless literature summaries I've been assigned (and my advisor isn't around for me to ask him for something more relevant.)
The book _How to Write a Lot_ written also by a psychologist. It's very short, and the basic point is that you should write every day and you will not be successful unless you do write every day. 2 hours a day, set a goal for each section, and keep track of whether you meet the goal. It was worth checking out of the public library.
Rejected by the government, over and over
Back in October 2006, I applied for a job in the federal government on a lark. They advertise extensively in a professional publication, and after seeing the ad every month for two years, I figured I may as well apply. They turned me down, and I get rejection notices every few months, reminding me that I didn't get the job. It's kind of a downer.
I'm tempted to reapply just to see if I could get the job and get off their rejection letter mailing list.
Has anyone else had this happen ?
I'm tempted to reapply just to see if I could get the job and get off their rejection letter mailing list.
Has anyone else had this happen ?
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Monday, April 21, 2008
College reunion catch-up; science career outcomes
I've been reading through the pre-reunion book of personal updates, and find them revealing of personalities and surprising about careers.
PERSONALITIES:
Some people write veiled boasting, sometimes in the Bobo style of boasting of success both in profession and obscure hobby: e.g., "I like to unwind post-call on the llama farm, just 20 minutes from the Mayo Clinic, where I'm doing my neurosurgery residency." I made up that example. David Brooks has already elaborated in great depth on this style which combines serious and ironically-wacky.
Other people are perfectly honest about difficult circumstances that people wouldn't have otherwise known about, including failing to publish during graduate school, having had an ill-fated several-year-long relationship, etc. Some find a middle ground between Pollyanna sunshine and brutal honesty, and mention issues like divorce that people might have noticed by reading the class notes over the years, or issues which are semi-difficult but of the everyday variety such as dating.
CAREERS:
A really striking issue --- the reason I'm writing this --- is looking at what happened to people from my undergraduate major. My undergraduate major was in a right-brain field reputed for brilliance at a top-5 school. The two most brilliant people from my major got PhDs in the field from top-5 schools, but now neither is in academia nor particularly prestigious jobs. I'm shocked. I knew that the labor market in this field was challenging, which is why my PhD is in a completely different field from my undergraduate. It's shocking that people whose brilliance I saw continually for four formative years of college, who were at the top of the top of the top, did not get their first choice careers. I know at least one of them would really like an academic job.
The people who left the field for fields with fewer quantitatively smart people, or fields where other traits determine success, seem to have done the best. I exclude myself since I'm fully aware of my neuroses, and am neither on the tenure track nor at a prestigious university.
PERSONALITIES:
Some people write veiled boasting, sometimes in the Bobo style of boasting of success both in profession and obscure hobby: e.g., "I like to unwind post-call on the llama farm, just 20 minutes from the Mayo Clinic, where I'm doing my neurosurgery residency." I made up that example. David Brooks has already elaborated in great depth on this style which combines serious and ironically-wacky.
Other people are perfectly honest about difficult circumstances that people wouldn't have otherwise known about, including failing to publish during graduate school, having had an ill-fated several-year-long relationship, etc. Some find a middle ground between Pollyanna sunshine and brutal honesty, and mention issues like divorce that people might have noticed by reading the class notes over the years, or issues which are semi-difficult but of the everyday variety such as dating.
CAREERS:
A really striking issue --- the reason I'm writing this --- is looking at what happened to people from my undergraduate major. My undergraduate major was in a right-brain field reputed for brilliance at a top-5 school. The two most brilliant people from my major got PhDs in the field from top-5 schools, but now neither is in academia nor particularly prestigious jobs. I'm shocked. I knew that the labor market in this field was challenging, which is why my PhD is in a completely different field from my undergraduate. It's shocking that people whose brilliance I saw continually for four formative years of college, who were at the top of the top of the top, did not get their first choice careers. I know at least one of them would really like an academic job.
The people who left the field for fields with fewer quantitatively smart people, or fields where other traits determine success, seem to have done the best. I exclude myself since I'm fully aware of my neuroses, and am neither on the tenure track nor at a prestigious university.
Faculty job = decreased odds of children
This paper finds that doctors and lawyers have more kids than professors, and fast-track females are less likely to have kids than fast-track males.
Just reading the abstract scaled down my career ambitions by an order of magnitude. I'm tempted to turn down all my options and apply intensively to the non-faculty non-industry jobs in my field.
Just reading the abstract scaled down my career ambitions by an order of magnitude. I'm tempted to turn down all my options and apply intensively to the non-faculty non-industry jobs in my field.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
No pithy title: ("two deaths and an interview")
Interviews are strangely divorced from real life: you fly to a new place, meet a slate of new people, and they make a decision about whether they want to work with you for the next 1-3 years, while being legally bound not to ask about normal issues like family, friends, religion, deep questions. I had an interview that began bright and early in the morning, almost simultaneously with my friend's death. It's painful to think about. I found out about his death after the first day of interviews, and impulsively checked out of my hotel and rushed to the town where there was a memorial gathering that night hosted by my friend's graduate school department. I stayed up talking quietly with friends, left at 5 the next morning, and made it to the rest of the interview, thoughts of theodicy filling my head as we spoke about his research interests.
My (much older) friend's 80-something year old father had just died of cancer, and I wanted to be able to be there to comfort him. At the last minute, I got invited to an interview just a couple hours away from my former city, which exactly coincided with being able to attend. I flew into my former city, came straight there, and spent the afternoon and evening with my friend and others who came. I didn't intend it this way, but it turned out to be a good way to catch up with other friends whom I hadn't kept well-enough in touch with.
I had made some lunch plans to meet my friend Barbara and her husband after my interview, and while we were all standing around talking, Barbara asked her husband pretty loudly if he was free to join us for lunch, right in front of two people whom I had somewhat complicated relationships with: a guy and a girl. My immediate panic was that the girl would feel left out; she was Barbara's best friend and the one who liked Gene and asked my permission to date him. Because Gene and I had been somewhat involved already, I said I thought it might be awkward, and then he started dating someone else. I was afraid she would blame me that she'd missed her chances with him; she didn't know that Gene had decided a year before that he was going to marry the girl he'd just started dating. In this panic, I asked complicated-girl if she would want to join.
The guy was complicated because of something involving a very close friend's romantic life: he now had a long-time girlfriend, but it still truly hurt her feelings to be reminded of his existence, so gradually I saw him less and less though we'd been closer before. I only saw him at very large gatherings, or when it was just a few people and a foreign movie. She was unusually sensitive, but what could I do: as tempting as it is, you can't argue with feelings. Besides, I'd wanted to stay unambitious on the visit since interviews are hard: if I asked him, his girlfriend would be a natural addition, and perhaps others, and that was too many people. So I kept speaking with this guy, catching up about his life, his girlfriend, his dissertation, and feeling slightly guilty for not inviting him along. When it was time for him to go, I noticed him putting on his coat and rushed to the door to escort him out and exchange a few more vague pleasantries, to reassure him that I really do like him and I really didn't mean to slight him, though obviously not saying anything of the sort, probably just making vague plans to catch up later in my visit, separately.
In the early evening, I set off for my interview and my next day was quite pleasant. My interviewer was the sort who believed in really hosting candidates, so I was constantly accompanied. He took me on a tour of the campus, and we stopped to look at a striking sculpture, he told me about the evolution of his career, and I was completely charmed. We ended early for the day, and I had a couple of hours for a nap before meeting up with the only person I knew in this city, a guy I'd met on a dating site without ever meeting in person; he had since gotten involved in a relationship, but I did want to pick his brain about the city. I checked my email. The night before, I'd debated whether to pay for the hotel's internet and decided against, but somehow managed to find a wireless signal for a neighboring business which had a guest band.
I read email by eliminating the ones I definitely need to delete, and this time I started with "Tragic news" from a graduate school organization in my prior city. These usually announce the death of a grandparent or a professor I'd never met. Naturally, the way I've set up the story, it's not a surprise. A friend in my former city --- the one I'd had vague feelings of guilt for not asking him to lunch, but mostly allayed them --- died less than 12 hours after I last spoke with him. I screamed. All the cliches about not believing terrible news, rereading it, and the simultaneous descent of mental fog and amazing clarity, apply here.
The clarity let me pack, email my interviewer and the dating-site-guy I was supposed to meet that night, figure out travel arrangements, and return to my former city in time for a memorial gathering in his graduate department. I was grateful for people's unexpected kindness. I blurted out the circumstances to the hotel, and asked if the department could get credit; they hesitated initially, and I said that I didn't really care since it wasn't my money, but I thought it would be nicer for them, and they agreed not to charge the department for the second night. It's helpful to be able to dispense with tact and get straight to the point when it's beyond you.
My close friend who had had romantic issues with this guy needed company; she felt enormously guilty and weird. It's a bit ironic, actually: when people die, we think of the girlfriend/wife, the best friend. We don't often think of the girl who'd struggled with romantic feelings that she wished she didn't still have, in that continual struggle between affection and dislike. I was grateful to be there to just spend time with her, so she didn't have to be alone in her apartment. Others needed the presence of reassuring company as well.
The next morning, I left while it was still dark to get back to my interview: it was just a 1 hour appointment with someone who hadn't been free the previous day, but it seemed important to let life go on. Doing something other than my usual routine would make me feel worse, and that was how everyone dealt with it: everyone woke up the next day and went to work. I arrived in the city almost 2 hours before the interview was supposed to start, so dawdled a bit. I glanced at the papers in the newsstand to read the story of my friend's death and discovered awful details. I had no idea where I was going --- the interview was in a different building --- but it was too early in the morning to call my host so I looked at a map in the newsstand, learned I was just a mile away, so bought the map and walked to the interview, arriving early.
Without the interview's timing (that I had no control over), I would have not seen my friend before his death or been able to comfort my friends, so I felt very grateful for the coincidence. On the other hand, his sudden death was random as well, and actually even moreso. Ah, theodicy.
My (much older) friend's 80-something year old father had just died of cancer, and I wanted to be able to be there to comfort him. At the last minute, I got invited to an interview just a couple hours away from my former city, which exactly coincided with being able to attend. I flew into my former city, came straight there, and spent the afternoon and evening with my friend and others who came. I didn't intend it this way, but it turned out to be a good way to catch up with other friends whom I hadn't kept well-enough in touch with.
I had made some lunch plans to meet my friend Barbara and her husband after my interview, and while we were all standing around talking, Barbara asked her husband pretty loudly if he was free to join us for lunch, right in front of two people whom I had somewhat complicated relationships with: a guy and a girl. My immediate panic was that the girl would feel left out; she was Barbara's best friend and the one who liked Gene and asked my permission to date him. Because Gene and I had been somewhat involved already, I said I thought it might be awkward, and then he started dating someone else. I was afraid she would blame me that she'd missed her chances with him; she didn't know that Gene had decided a year before that he was going to marry the girl he'd just started dating. In this panic, I asked complicated-girl if she would want to join.
The guy was complicated because of something involving a very close friend's romantic life: he now had a long-time girlfriend, but it still truly hurt her feelings to be reminded of his existence, so gradually I saw him less and less though we'd been closer before. I only saw him at very large gatherings, or when it was just a few people and a foreign movie. She was unusually sensitive, but what could I do: as tempting as it is, you can't argue with feelings. Besides, I'd wanted to stay unambitious on the visit since interviews are hard: if I asked him, his girlfriend would be a natural addition, and perhaps others, and that was too many people. So I kept speaking with this guy, catching up about his life, his girlfriend, his dissertation, and feeling slightly guilty for not inviting him along. When it was time for him to go, I noticed him putting on his coat and rushed to the door to escort him out and exchange a few more vague pleasantries, to reassure him that I really do like him and I really didn't mean to slight him, though obviously not saying anything of the sort, probably just making vague plans to catch up later in my visit, separately.
In the early evening, I set off for my interview and my next day was quite pleasant. My interviewer was the sort who believed in really hosting candidates, so I was constantly accompanied. He took me on a tour of the campus, and we stopped to look at a striking sculpture, he told me about the evolution of his career, and I was completely charmed. We ended early for the day, and I had a couple of hours for a nap before meeting up with the only person I knew in this city, a guy I'd met on a dating site without ever meeting in person; he had since gotten involved in a relationship, but I did want to pick his brain about the city. I checked my email. The night before, I'd debated whether to pay for the hotel's internet and decided against, but somehow managed to find a wireless signal for a neighboring business which had a guest band.
I read email by eliminating the ones I definitely need to delete, and this time I started with "Tragic news" from a graduate school organization in my prior city. These usually announce the death of a grandparent or a professor I'd never met. Naturally, the way I've set up the story, it's not a surprise. A friend in my former city --- the one I'd had vague feelings of guilt for not asking him to lunch, but mostly allayed them --- died less than 12 hours after I last spoke with him. I screamed. All the cliches about not believing terrible news, rereading it, and the simultaneous descent of mental fog and amazing clarity, apply here.
The clarity let me pack, email my interviewer and the dating-site-guy I was supposed to meet that night, figure out travel arrangements, and return to my former city in time for a memorial gathering in his graduate department. I was grateful for people's unexpected kindness. I blurted out the circumstances to the hotel, and asked if the department could get credit; they hesitated initially, and I said that I didn't really care since it wasn't my money, but I thought it would be nicer for them, and they agreed not to charge the department for the second night. It's helpful to be able to dispense with tact and get straight to the point when it's beyond you.
My close friend who had had romantic issues with this guy needed company; she felt enormously guilty and weird. It's a bit ironic, actually: when people die, we think of the girlfriend/wife, the best friend. We don't often think of the girl who'd struggled with romantic feelings that she wished she didn't still have, in that continual struggle between affection and dislike. I was grateful to be there to just spend time with her, so she didn't have to be alone in her apartment. Others needed the presence of reassuring company as well.
The next morning, I left while it was still dark to get back to my interview: it was just a 1 hour appointment with someone who hadn't been free the previous day, but it seemed important to let life go on. Doing something other than my usual routine would make me feel worse, and that was how everyone dealt with it: everyone woke up the next day and went to work. I arrived in the city almost 2 hours before the interview was supposed to start, so dawdled a bit. I glanced at the papers in the newsstand to read the story of my friend's death and discovered awful details. I had no idea where I was going --- the interview was in a different building --- but it was too early in the morning to call my host so I looked at a map in the newsstand, learned I was just a mile away, so bought the map and walked to the interview, arriving early.
Without the interview's timing (that I had no control over), I would have not seen my friend before his death or been able to comfort my friends, so I felt very grateful for the coincidence. On the other hand, his sudden death was random as well, and actually even moreso. Ah, theodicy.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Late-breaking postdoc news
My one postdoc offer letter was vague, and since the postdoc did not have a website, I was short on specifics.
This is what the postdoc offer letter said:
I was 90% sure that I was going to accept, though. You can't say no to them. Before I accepted, I wanted to clarify a few details and attempt to bargain for moving expenses. In my 10 minute conversation, he had said funding was available for a few conferences. One of my questions was how long the postdoc was for, whether it was the usual 2 years extendable to 3, as virtually all the others I've applied to. Alas:
I reviewed my (sparse) correspondence, and there had been no mention of this before. The offer letter didn't have this. Our 45 minute breakfast meeting probably didn't say anything about it, as I would have remembered it more clearly. Our 10 minute conversation did not mention it: all he said was that they would work with me to apply for faculty funding. He never said that applying for the funding was the only way that I could get funding for the following year.
A 1 year postdoc means going on the market again, right away, just in case, and all the facts of temporary life. Hopefully I would be just as lucky as the others, but even so, the fact that this fact emerged only after my questioning is a terrible sign: what other surprises are there?
I've bought myself some time with the decision by asking to speak with him again.
This is what the postdoc offer letter said:
As we discussed in [conference], we are thrilled to offer you a postdoctoral position at the [.]Center starting this summer. I do hope you will consider this offer, as we would be thrilled to have you
The start date would be July 1 but is flexible
Salaries would be based on the [..] postdoctoral fellow scale, as this is a [..] funded position
Please fill out the official application at the website below
I think that we already have most of this information, however we would need an official transript before you could officially start.
Please let me know if you have any specific questions. I am copying [..] on this, who coordinates the academic and training activities in the Department
I was 90% sure that I was going to accept, though. You can't say no to them. Before I accepted, I wanted to clarify a few details and attempt to bargain for moving expenses. In my 10 minute conversation, he had said funding was available for a few conferences. One of my questions was how long the postdoc was for, whether it was the usual 2 years extendable to 3, as virtually all the others I've applied to. Alas:
The post doc is for a year. based on our training grant. We havent had a 2-year post doc, as everyone has gotten funded in the second year either through [US federal funding agencies] grants. We work closely with folks in terms of writing grants etc.
Unfortunately, we dont have relocation funds available
I reviewed my (sparse) correspondence, and there had been no mention of this before. The offer letter didn't have this. Our 45 minute breakfast meeting probably didn't say anything about it, as I would have remembered it more clearly. Our 10 minute conversation did not mention it: all he said was that they would work with me to apply for faculty funding. He never said that applying for the funding was the only way that I could get funding for the following year.
A 1 year postdoc means going on the market again, right away, just in case, and all the facts of temporary life. Hopefully I would be just as lucky as the others, but even so, the fact that this fact emerged only after my questioning is a terrible sign: what other surprises are there?
I've bought myself some time with the decision by asking to speak with him again.
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