Step 2: Job Application

(a.k.a Tying the Noose)

In a flurry of job-hunt-induced-excitement and under a mounting pressure to ‘get a job already!’ (mainly from myself), I applied to a bunch of jobs over Christmas.

I was freshly burnt-out from handing in my thesis, still sizzling a bit at the ends, and utterly convinced that my Viva had gone terribly and that I had been outed as a ‘bad scientist’. So I did not apply for any post-docs. In fact, every time I read a project description for a post-doc advert, I felt a little sick in my stomach. And then of course, there was the small but rather important fact that I did not want to work with animals anymore (I might write a bit more on this in another post). And since most of my Masters and PhD training had been on animal work, this narrowed down my post-doc possibilities significantly.

So instead, I decided to apply for medical writing and editing jobs. To be honest, they were the only ones I felt like I had some kind of an idea of what the job was actually going to be like. And why not? I’m interested in science, especially biomedical science, and I’ve always loved reading papers, interpreting data, researching and writing. Of course, loving something does not mean you’re any good at it, and I didn’t actually have any kind of work experience in any of those things (does my baby-turned-monster count?).  But I applied anyway. Where? Anywhere, I didn’t care about location. I was still living out of a suitcase at this point, so it seemed quite easy to just zip it up and hop on a plane. I applied to journals, pharmaceutical companies and publishing companies. Basically, any editing or writing job on Naturejobs that required a PhD in a biomedical science. Most jobs only asked for a CV and a cover letter, so I spent some time updating and polishing my CV, and writing a flexible cover letter that I used for several jobs applications with minor changes. And I tried to emphasise the non-researchy bits in my background like teaching, languages, presentations, and society work. And then I hit send (a bunch of times), took a deep breath, and went off to enjoy my holidays.

And a few days after New Year’s, I got invited to my first job interview.

Step 1: Finding a Job (a.k.a. The Hunt)

So you’ve handed in your baby-turned-monster (a.k.a. the Thesis) and you’ve managed to survive the snake-fight (a.k.a. the Viva). And now you’re ready to head into the Real World and get a Real Job. If you’re not one of those lucky people who get jobs handed to them on silver platters (i.e. have well-connected supervisors), this can be a little tricky. The main problem is access to information. And of course, Step 0 (which you will notice I have conveniently chosen to skip) is to figure out what kind of career path you want to follow in the first place. But if you, like me, have decided to see what’s out there first before you commit, keep reading.

So, where are the jobs? (And it looks like I’m not the only one asking this- also, I’ve been accused of being a bit of a doomsayer, so click here and here for a couple of  *mostly* happy articles on this for a change!)

The bottom-line is: we definitely need some kind of career orientation service for PhD students. So far, my career orientation has consisted of drunken pub-chats with post-docs and a random man giving me career advice in a restaurant. First, we should be given a realistic and honest overview of career prospects within academia. Second, we should be informed about what else is out there. And third, we should be able to get this information without that snobbish, narrow-minded, elitist, borne-of-frustration-attitude that assumes that unless you’re toiling away in a lab somewhere you’re not doing something that’s worthwhile, important, intelligent or interesting.

Disclaimer: This list is by no means complete (suggestions are hugely welcome), but I’m just sharing what I’ve found out and found useful so far in the job hunt. Also, I am assuming you have a PhD in neuroscience, but most of these would work for PhDs in any biomedical science. Jobs have been divided into 1) Academic Post-doc  and 2) Alternative Careers, and I’ve classified post-doc in industry as being an alternative career (although some sources disagree on the terminology). I guess ‘alternative’ could mean ‘alternative to academia’ or ‘alternative to ‘research’, the point is it's something different. 

1) The Academic Post-doc

This job is the easiest to describe (look around at your post-docs!): it means doing more of what you’ve been doing for your PhD, with a bit more responsibility and a bit more pay. Job responsibilities include doing experiments in the lab, analysing and interpreting results, supervising graduate and undergraduate projects, and maybe some teaching. You’re also likely to be involved in writing grant applications and will have (hopefully) more to say on where your project is going. As an academic post-doc, if your publications start piling up and you’re on the right (as in correct) side of your department’s political dynamic, you could find yourself on the way to becoming an ‘academic’.

Where to look for jobs (in order of how useful I’ve found them!):

www.fens.org (Note how for every 5 PhD adverts there’s one post-doc advert!)

www.naturejobs.com

www.newscientist.com/jobs

www.jobs.ac.uk  

www.findapostdoc.com

2) Alternative Careers

1. Post-doc in industry

This includes basic research, drug development, and clinical trials among other things. 

e.g. Novartis and Proclinical (a Pharma Recruitment Agency) currently have job adverts up for neuroscientists.

2. Science Editing

This could be for a journal, website or a publishing company.

Typical job responsibilities as editor of a journal:      

• reading and selecting articles
• researching, commissioning and editing articles
• writing for the journal
• attending national and international meetings

Typical Requirements:

-          a PhD in neuroscience

-          a broad interest in neuroscience

-          excellent communication skills (written and oral)

-          commitment to the communication of scientific ideas

-          ability to learn new skills

-          previous writing/editing experience is a significant bonus

To find editing jobs (and there are loads!) go the following sites and type is 'science editing' or 'science communication' as keyword.

www.naturejobs.com

www.newscientist.com/jobs

e.g. Nature Neuroscience (based in New York) is currently looking for an assistant editor.

3. Writing

If you are a good writer (and have proof !) and have a science background, you can get into different types of writing. This website has a brilliant list and lots of upbeat information on this topic. 

1) Science journalism (popular science magazines, websites)

This sounds like a lot of fun, but is difficult to make a living from.

2) Technical Writing (grants, patents, handouts, protocols, brochures)

This sounds a bit boring, but there is a huge demand for it.

3) Medical writing (more grants, patents, brochures, but also articles?)

This sounds like it could have interesting and boring bits. For a good overview of this job, click here.

4. Consultancy

I’m actually still not quite sure what this means, but it sounds very glamorous. I’m also told this pays extremely well. But I have very little information on how you would get into this and what the typical job responsibilities would be. I’ll post as soon as I find out more.

You could be working for:

-          law firms dealing in patents and intellectual property

-          pharmaceutical companies, e.g.  clinical trial management

-          biotech companies

-          government agencies (Science Policy)

-          consultancy companies like McKinsey, PWC etc

-          museums

-          non-profit organisations

5. Business and Marketing

This blog talks about this in detail (also he Stole my idea...back in 2005- actually the number of blogs out there about this is an indication of how difficult it is to find information!)

6. Teaching

-          In schools, but you need a teaching diploma (unless you go abroad)

-          Sabbatical replacement jobs.

7. Graduate Medicine

We’ve all thought about this one. What’s another four years of studying if you come out qualified, employable and making a difference to the world? And why on earth did we not all just do medicine in the first place?

More to come...

To post-doc or not to post-doc

It was a Thursday night, sometime last year, and my friends and I were having dinner in a restaurant in Dublin. The food was lovely, the atmosphere jovial, but the conversation drifted, inevitably, towards our PhDs. One of us was having problems with his supervisor and with his project, and had actually decided to quit. One of us had a lovely supervisor, but her project just wasn’t kicking off, and she was getting worried. One of us loved his project, but his supervisor was a ghost, he had very little contact with him and found himself making all of his own decisions without knowing if they were ok. One of us liked his project and his supervisor, but had just been scooped. He told us how he was at an international conference the week before and someone presented graphs that were identical to graphs he had produced in a series of experiments he had done two years ago. Since he hadn’t published it yet, he would now not be able to.

So as we were talking about all this, a strange man came up to us from another table and said: “Look, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but I just want to tell you this: Do a post-doc. You won’t know whether or not you want to stay in science until you do a post-doc. It’s completely different from the PhD. I hated my PhD. I have now been a post-doc for 15 years and I absolutely love it.”

We were a little flabbergasted at the time (and very embarrassed that someone had overheard all our whinging), but now I find myself thinking about that random piece of advice in the restaurant. My dad has said the same: ‘Just do one post-doc. See how you feel about it. Don’t give up just yet.’ And of course, that makes you feel like you’re backing down, being a quitter, that you couldn’t handle it, and were supposed to be stronger etc. Dads have the unique, subtle ability to make you feel that way.

But why do a post-doc in the first place?

Doing a post-doc is the only way for you to actually remain a ‘scientist’. No alternative career will allow you to do that. Of course you can keep on doing experiments in your kitchen, but unless you live in the 16^th century and paint Mona Lisa’s in your spare time, it doesn’t really count. In the modern world, there is a system which you have to be part of if you want to be a scientist. The system involves politics, publishing, and pain (no not painting). And of course, some perks. One of them being simply the fact that you are a scientist, which is kind of cool. And in a lot of ways, it is precisely that part, the being a scientist part, that is the hardest to give up.    

Future Shock

Strangely, I’m having a hard time moving on, every bit of me is resisting the change, all I want is to go back in time, to still be writing my PhD, to still be living in the small apartment with the small balcony, to still be running along the quays to alternative rock music, to still be doing Pilates classes with my Eastern European instructor who once had a stroke and told us that everyone has their own little health problems.

I know it was the same when I moved from Germany; all I wanted was to pack my bags and move back to Germany, to still be in my little room in the student housing, to still go for walks in the forest next door, to still go to the huge supermarkets that had everything, to still have everything clean and clear and organised, and to still have seasons: summer, autumn, spring, winter.

But then a couple of months after I moved to Dublin, something changed. A new friend gave me a hug one day when I was upset, and from then on, things started to get better and better. A year later, I couldn't believe I had had a hard time getting used to Dublin, it felt like it was my city, I was so comfortable, so happy, so glad I had moved and experienced this new place, with its own quirks and culture and fun.

With the future as a way of life, and everything in constant motion, I know I will get up and pack that suitcase and board that plane when the time comes. But now, for just a little while, I'm allowing myself a bit of nostalgia.

Curiouser and curiouser

Are non-scientists more interested in science than scientists?

In the olden days, when neuroscience was still only my hobby, and not my career, I used to read about science in my free time. I would use the money I saved up from tutoring hyperactive school kids to buy popular science magazines; Scientific American, Discover, New Scientist. I ended up with quite a collection, and my mom still has them displayed at home, complete with post-its marking my favourite articles! (Yes, I was a lonely lonely child in the olden days.)

Last week I bought a New Scientist for something to read on the plane to Oslo, and read it cover to cover. It was the first time I had bought a popular science magazine in 6 years, since I started my Masters in Neuroscience (followed by a PhD in More of the Same). What changed? I had just defended my Viva a couple of weeks earlier. And now, with my PhD behind me and the rest of my life ahead of me, I’m becoming interested in science again.

Of course, I’ve always been interested in science, that’s why I decided to study it in the first place. And I loved my PhD, was genuinely interested in the topic, and enjoyed reading the literature and writing my thesis, all of it. But I stopped being curious about the Rest of Science.  

Last month, I gave my Viva talk in Dublin and then flew to London to give talk to a group of non -scientists the next day. It was the same topic: exercise-induced cognitive enhancement (how exercise makes us smarter-fascinating stuff!), but I was just blown away by the number of interesting, novel, and lively questions my lay-audience threw at me. Whereas during my Viva talk, interest was minimal, and the questions were, let’s just say, lacking in imagination. Another example of this disturbing phenomenon is the Neuroscience Seminar Series, which I helped organise throughout my PhD. Our biggest problem was getting people to speak. Our second biggest problem was getting people to attend. Then our biggest problem became getting people to organise it, because everyone was sick of trying to get people to speak and attend.

Ok, ok, I know I’m being unfair. Scientists have to be around science all day long, they don’t want to have to think about more science in their free time. And they’ve got enough watermelons to juggle with their own science, without getting a butternut squash thrown at them at random. But I do feel a twinge of regret when my sister texts me at 3pm in the afternoon from Oxford with the words: ‘what’s a macrophage?’ ‘White blood cell that eats up toxins/intruders.’ I texted back, and then added ‘Why?’ The reply: ‘Just curious’.

 In the lab, despite our best intentions, science stops being about curiosity and more about producing data. I know it wouldn’t work any other way, to do science you need funding, to get funding you need publications, to get publications you need results (of some sort), and to get results you need to work hard and try different things and troubleshoot and learn new techniques and then troubleshoot them and then repeat the whole procedure ad nauseam, and somewhere along the way, our curiosity gets serially diluted.  You get it back sometimes, brief moments when you’re doing a particularly interesting experiment, but then that’s your Project Curiosity, and you’ve got to hold on to that one to some degree throughout your PhD just to be able to get yourself out of bed in the morning.

But what about the Rest of Science Curiosity? Is there a way to get it back while you’re still in science? Or do you have to get to High-King-Professor level, when you’re not actually doing any science yourself, before you can afford to regain your Rest of Science Curiosity? And if there was a way to get it back while still in science (latex-gloves-on-science) would it make us better and more satisfied and more productive scientists?

I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Will keep you posted.

End of an era

I thought it would all come apart at the seams, but it hasn’t, not yet, and I’m still here, breathing, typing, thinking, on the other side. The truth is, I can’t tell for sure that I’m on the other side, I’ve been in limbo for so long that I don’t think I can tell one side from the other anymore, but it feels like the edge of something, the end of an era or the beginning of a new one. It’s very jaggedy.

The end of last year was the end of an era, and it ended with a bang, not with a whimper. I submitted my PhD thesis end of October and flew to Lebanon for a month (where I got to see my family, lovely friends and cousins), spent a day in Budapest, flew back to Dublin to defend my thesis, and on the same day flew to London (Joannaland, as I like to call it). Four days in London, then another four days in Stuttgart with my sister (where the whole of the city centre was one giant Weihnachtsmarkt!), and then back to Dublin for Christmas with my boyfriend’s family. Two days later, my boyfriend and I caught a flight to Oslo, and then took the overnight train to Bergen, where we spent two nights, and then rode back to Oslo on the amazing Bergen-Oslo Railway. After a brilliant New Year’s Eve with friends in Oslo, we flew back to Dublin.

But now the era is truly over: a new year, a new life, a new job, possibly a new country, it’s all still very murky waters after that. Six countries in one month, around the world (or what seemed like it!) in 30 days. As of today, I am homeless, jobless, heading fast for penniless, and determined not to worry myself into a puddle.

While at home, I found a diary that I’d lost for years, the one I wrote after finishing university. I was so passionate back then, I had so many dreams of places I wanted to go and things I wanted to do. With a bit of a shock I realised that every single one of those dreams came true. My first dream was to get a scholarship to go and do a Masters in Europe. I did that. I dreamt of living alone and being financially and otherwise independent, I dreamt of going out with friends and having fun in pubs and going to the theatre and concerts and films and I did that. I dreamt of becoming fit, exercising, and being able to 'run like the wind'. I did that (to some degree- always room for improvement on that one!). I dreamt of doing a PhD in something that I was truly interested in, somewhere where I wasn’t expected to work too hard, where I could still do other things, like hike with a group of friends through beautiful countryside, be on society committees, take dance classes and go swimming, and I managed to do exactly that. I dreamt of teaching classes and labs and explaining science to students, and I did that to my heart’s content, and made a good bit of money on the side (all my current savings!). And I dreamt of travelling around the world, getting to know different people and cultures, and since I’ve left Lebanon I've been all around Europe and even made it to India, where I ran in to a friend of mine from Lebanon at the Taj Mahal. And never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that I would travel so much.

And here I am, at the end of an era, and I realise that I’ve run out of dreams. I genuinely do not know what I want to do next.  I was so sure for years that I wanted to become a scientist, a university professor, but now I am not so sure anymore. I love the idea of it; I love science, especially neuroscience, and I love  reading and writing about science and coming up with ideas for experiments, I love teaching and I think I’d love being involved in a bit of administration (my supervisor’s job at the moment looks like my ideal job!), but the problem is that to get to that point I would have to do a lot of research and research means sitting in a lab for long long hours doing the same thing over and over again and I don’t think I’m up for that anymore. I might just need a break (a bit of PhD burn-out maybe?), but I do know that I when I do decide what I want to do next, it will be something that I want to do. And maybe it’s ok not to be entirely sure what that is yet.

So, what's next?

Can people please stop asking me that?

As a PhD student in my final year, this has got to be the single most frequently asked - and most dreaded - question. My friends ask it to commiserate; my parents ask it with a worried undertone, and a little old lady at the bus-stop asks it to make conversation. A few months ago, someone posted a link to an Economist article on my Facebook wall with the alarming title: “The Disposable Academic: why doing a PhD is often a waste of time”. The article spread like wildfire among my disillusioned PhD friends, along with a YouTube video of a Lady Gaga impersonator in a lab coat singing “Bad Project” to the tune of “Bad Romance”. With a few months to go before we submit our dissertations, we’re all aware of the ticking clock, the diminished job-market, and the horrifying rumours of the PhD graduate now working in a sandwich shop.

So, bar the sandwich shop, what are our options? First of all, the job that our PhDs have made us uniquely qualified to do is a post-doc in the field of our PhD research. And the truth is that the post-doc seems like a bit of a nightmare. After taxes, your wage comes to little more than that of a PhD stipend, but with double the pressure and triple the responsibility. You’re supposed to know your stuff now and no longer have the ‘I’m a student, I’m here to learn’ excuse to fall back on. Your lifestyle is as hectic as that of a final-year PhD student (definitely not what burnt-out final-years want to hear!) Job security is minimal, especially in today’s economy, and the battle for funding is desperate and bloody. And to top it all off, even if you do secure a nice post-doc in a good lab, doing a well-funded project that genuinely interests you, there is no guarantee that you’re headed for that comfy, coveted position at the top of the academic ladder with the fancy office, big(ger) pay-check, and enthusiastic minions to do your bidding. We know all this, and it scares us. Even our revered post-docs are warning us off post-doc-ing.

No wonder so many of us turn to that delightful concept called an ‘alternative science career’, a bit of a buzzword nowadays among my peers. These are science jobs that make use of your ‘transferable skills’ and include consultancies in biotech and pharmaceutical companies, law and intellectual property, science writing, science education and science outreach. So you won’t end up making sandwiches.

Many of my friends admit they feel like they just rolled into their PhDs, and for them an ‘alternative career’ is especially appealing. In school and college, science was their best subject, and a PhD just seemed like the next natural step. And now, a few years into a particular project with its technical problems, narrow focus, constant pressure, and long tedious hours at the bench or computer, they realise that this is not what they want to do at all. It's hard for me, because up until now, an academic career is all I ever wanted. I grew up doing experiments with my dad in the kitchen, and always felt destined to head my own lab someday to do the experiments I want to do, simply because they fascinate me. And I absolutely loved my PhD, even the tedious, overspecialised parts, because it felt like the stress and the boredom was worth it when I found a solution to a problem, or got to design an experiment to test out one my own ideas, or just got to peer down a microscope to see something small and beautiful and alive.

Sentimental and romantic, maybe. But you always hear that in science, you've got to truly love it to stick with it. And I do love it. But it's starting to dawn on me that love might not be enough.

And now the question is, what's next?