On the differences between biotech and academia - Part I.

At breakfast this morning, I asked HippieHusband whether he was still excited about work the way he used to be when he first started his job and he said, "Not the way it used to be, but I still enjoy the work. Although somedays I want to leave at noon, I still like the pay cheque and the fact that I don't have to deal with academic assholes."

Since joining the ranks of industry science, albeit only two months now, I feel there has been a shift in my level of stress.  It's one of the reasons I haven't blogged in so long - I don't really fell the need to rant and complain the way I did when I was an academic - a la disgruntled postdoc.  It's been two months and I still adore my job.  It's all shiny and new and I'm sure that as a new hire, I'm shiny and new.  

During this time, I realized that I was wholly unsuited for the academic environment. And a conversation with my old PhD supervisor as well as several conversations with some high-level industry peeps cemented these feelings.  These high-level industry peeps were surprised at how easily I made the transition, because most of the time academics have a hard time transitioning into industry.    

Over the course of the next few weeks I'll blog about what I've noticed are some major differences between academia and industry. 

1.  Lone Gunman vs. Go Team!

In my very first month on the job, I experienced a feeling that I can't remember the last time I felt that in academia - fulfillment.  I was asked to perform a scientific task to jumpstart a project that was key to the company's ongoing success.  When the task was completed, I passed the results along to the next person to use the data to get to the next step.  But my portion was complete.  And I had actually completed a task that contributed something meaningful to the team.  In one of my weekly meetings, my supervisor, complemented me on making a difference to this project which he felt had be stagnating for weeks.

In academia, you are basically it and until a project goes to press - it is not over (even then it feels like it never ends).  Although there are an increasing number of collaborations, at the end of the day, your success as an independent researcher is not dependent on the efforts of others but to your pubs and your grants.   And despite having "supervisors," as a postdoc, I designed, executed, analyzed, and wrote manuscripts.  I had to rely solely on my effort, initiative, and motivation.  When I faced a roadblock, I had to find a way to solve the problem - it felt like I was either going to sink or swim on my own.  Academia is a lonely game.

2.  Asshole, get thee to the door.

The diva or rockstar academic, nurtured in the ivory tower, is not tolerated in industry.  In industry, a team cannot thrive with the presence of someone whose ego is bigger than the company.   This is not to say there are no superstar scientists in industry. The difference is that everyone, including the superstar scientist, is vested in the company doing well.  In industry the collective interest is the individual interest.  In academia, it's all about individual interest, even within collaborations.  For the most part, I don't think people start off with huge egos in academia, but the pay sucks, the hours are long, and the only immediate compensation is your name in press, the environment encourages self-aggrandizement.  It's a wonder there is anyone still left in academia with any level of humility.

I am also not saying there are no assholes in industry. There are assholes everywhere.  To a much larger extent, however, the collective interest within industry (i.e. for the company to make oodles of money), polices the kind of assholery behavior, accommodated by tenure in academia.  For examples of this outrageous, unbridled behavior one simply has to peruse old blog posts.  The term disgruntled postdoc didn't come from nowhere, you know.

3.  You got a glamour mag pub? Meh.

Publications only help if you are coming out of academia into an industry job because it's the way that a hiring manager can measure your productivity.  They are, however, not necessary - I know several top level industry scientists that came out of their PhD without publications and are doing quite well.  Depending on the size and culture of the biotech company, as an industry scientist you may or may not publish.  Smaller start up companies (but not always) may use publications to lend credibility to the science.   Within my academic cohort, a Nature or Science pub meant your academic career was made.  Within industry, it means shit.  More important are patents.  Having your name on several pending or completed applications demonstrates innovation.

Industry seems much more interested in the skills that you bring and whether they fit a gap in the company.  The attitude is if I hire you today, what can you accomplish to met the company's needs tomorrow.   For my personality, writing a manuscript is like pulling teeth.  I love coming up with the question or project, designing the experiment, and then analyzing the data.  But once I've found out the answer, I could care less if anyone else knew.  This is an absolute killer in academia where the attitude is - if it isn't published you never did it.

In a phone conversation two weeks ago with my old PhD supervisor, GeneralSolutionGuru, she said that she understood my connection to the creative aspect of science: the project creation, design and analysis and that she knew I was less enthusiastic about manuscript writing.  This was partly true.  After leaving the PhD, I initially pushed hard to get my PhD manuscripts published and was moderately successful.  Somewhere along the way, however,  a confluence of things - my nature getting the better of me, a major illness, and having postdoc supervisors who just sat too long on manuscripts - led to my disillusionment in the process and ultimately to the realization that I didn't want to be an assistant prof.

Recently I heard that two of my friends received national postdoctoral fellowships and one even got a glamour mag publication.  Although I was really truly happy for them, I did feel a tinge of jealously for a brief moment.  But only briefly, because that tinge of jealously fell away when it was replaced with a choking sensation in my throat when I thought, "They'll probably end up as academics."

Who could ask for anything more?

I love my shiny new job.  Of course it has only been a week but the people, the environment and the work are fantastic.  I'm actually quite surprised at how easily things fell into place and I think, given what I hear about those around me still struggling to find jobs, I'm one of the lucky ones.   Hopefully, I'll still have this job in a year and will feel great about it and my performance in the job. 

In an anti-buddhist rampage, I went on a shopping spree for career clothes!  I bought several power suits, sparkling new shoes so I can go clicketty click when I walk down the office halls, and a nice fat purse in which to put all that money that I'm making. 

It's ridiculous that at my age I still feel a little bit like the 6 year old playing dress-up in mommy's clothes.   I guess the imposter feeling doesn't go away - it just gets better dressed!!!

The problem is  - all this consumption is addictive.  Just today, HippieHusband said he thought I had a shoe fetish, which lay dormant all those years in academia.  And only now with my shiny new job, has it been unleashed.  I told HippieHusband that it was not limited to shoes and while I could I was going to bask in the shine and glory of no longer living like a starving, shabbily-dressed, disgruntled postdoc.

The Zen of Schadenfreude

I know people say never say "never."

Fuck it. NEVER AGAIN.

Never again will I be treated like shit.
Never again will I not be compensated for my value.
Never again will I be in an environment where there is no accountability.
Never again will I engage when the stakes are so small.
Never again will I stay in a toxic work environment.
Never again will I be a disgruntled postdoc.

And while it may not be very Zen of me to jump for joy every 15 min when I think that this is my last day of imprisonment within the walls of the ivory tower, I just can't help myself. Yesterday, I had dinner with some friends and one of them, TheBeachcomber asked me what I was going to do on my last day. Confused, I asked him what he meant by that.

He explained that when he was 18 years old, he had a job in a gasbar where his boss treated him like shit.  So on his last day he had decided to pick a big fat fight with any customer. When a customer complained about some small thing, TheBeachcomber ripped him a new one. And the customer asked for his name and TheBeachcomber slapped his name tag down on the countertop and said, "Go right ahead, tell my supervisor."  That was an awesome last day of that job.  So, what have you always wanted to do or say to your supervisor?" 

And really the only thing that I could think of that I wanted was to walk into my supervisor's office and tell her that she seriously fucked up. But the fact that I went and got a job said so much more.

These past two weeks have shown me exactly what happens when an academic realizes just how much they fucked themselves. My supervisor and soon to be former supervisor, RedBull is just that person. You wouldn't think she was the same person who only two months ago decided to give me a job performance warning for my 'lack of productivity.' In these last two weeks, she has been so incredibly nice and complementary. It's such a transparent agenda. She wants to see all three manuscripts from my 1 and 1/2 year postdoc come to fruition. And she relies entirely on my generosity to see those to the end. Because if they don't get published, she ain't gettin' anymore funding dollars. Luckily for her I'm totally OCD about finishing things.

It has, however, been a terrible week for my buddhist inclinations because on top of the schadenfreude I feel in my current postdoc, I learned that my previous postdoc supervisor, Dr. Add'EmUp had to shut down his lab. When I spoke to a PhD student of another PI who shared the same lab, she told me that after I left, there was a lack of direction and productivity in the lab.

So with all the schadenfreude, I've been asking myself why do I and so many others get such pleasure in the misfortune of others?

The answer? Conceit.

I think that I feel such joy because I felt such anger and betrayal by those same people. Ultimately, the basis of that emotion is an attachment to ego or an idea of self. We're surrounded by people who, Gil Fronsdal, one of my favorite buddhist teachers, says play 'selfing games.' Given the current rage around the film/book The Hunger Games, it's possible to also think of this as a buddhist version of the hunger games. An example of the selfing game is when as a postdoc/gradstudent we have the conceit to think that we can do a better job at supervising. Or as a professor/faculty/supervisor we have the conceit to think that we were better postdocs/gradstudent than our current ones or even the ones whose blogs we read and criticize in the comments section. Any form of comparison - trying to prove we're superior, inferior and/or even equal requires conceit and comes with emotional suffering.  

Conceit extends to how I/we define ourselves.  And when I think about it, its always in terms of relationships.   I am a scientist, wife, sister, friend.  It's what Gil calls, a relational self.  We know of our identity in terms of our relationships with others.  But if our idea of self is tied up in those roles then we don't have an independent sense of self.  And much of our suffering comes from believing that our relational self is all of who we are.  And so when we define our self as a scientist/postdoc/gradstudent/prof and any part of our work is challenged or questioned, it's as if WE are being attacked.  I can't even count the number of times I've gotten all defensive about my scientific record.  Or the number of times at a social event, I've let it slip that I am a scientist.

One of the wonderful pieces of GilWisdom is that the practise of meditation is a self-identity lubricant.  Our ideas about self-identity often get stuck and consequently become fragile.  Sitting in meditation reveals the ways in which we are stuck and helps to dissolve in small ways the stuckness.  It provides a sense of self, independent of relationships.  A non-relational sense of self.

So although my schadenfreude feels so darn good, it is clearly my relational self asserting itself.  Luckily I have two weeks off before I start my new job to find the cushion and a little non-relational sense of self.

Update

I haven't written in a long while because I've been swamped juggling work and interviews. Fantastic news but on Friday I was offered an amazing opportunity. It's everything I want in a job plus the bonus is that I am leaving academia. It's an industry scientist position with a huge potential for growth. There will be more details later but I wanted to let those of you who have been loyal supporters, know I haven't fallen off the edge of a precipice. Instead I'm diving head first into a new and extremely exciting future!

Perception is not innocent

I've been spending this Thanksgiving googling both buddhist and academic blogs. Mostly because I wanted to read about what others are writing. What's particularly interesting is the stark contrast between the two types of blogs. The buddhist blogs make you believe that all buddhists are shiny happy people who only talk about peace and karma, while the academic-centred ones are some very pissed off, self-absorbed and cynical scientists bitching about their first world problems.

Frankly, both are unsatisfying. Life is not a bitch-fest nor is it a soma-filled cloud.

It really lies somewhere between.

And the struggle seems to be keeping it there.

Who's in the house?

“I think I might be misanthropic, “ I announced to HippieHusband at bedtime.

“I know people. That’s just having common sense.” he said. “People are not worth liking.”

In all seriousness, I was referring to how the practice of meditation is making me suffer more. Since the whole postdoc thing erupted into a volcanic mess [yes, it got worse], I’ve been having these frequent vengeance fantasies spinning in my head. I didn't think it was a big deal and being the scientist, I decided to run an experiment (pseudoreplicated of course). For one day, I would just keep track of how many times I fell into a vengeance fantasy. I counted 50 times and those were only the ones I was actually aware were occurring.

Fifty times! I bet you're thinking, dear reader, she's one fucked up bitch.

Let's take a step back. Stand with me, will you, in front of a bathroom mirror in the morning as I brush my teeth. Allow me to introduce you to my mind.

"Brush a little bit more on that front tooth it feels so slimey. I didn't sleep so well, ugh I can see this -- and then it begins. The fantasy. I walk into RedBull's office handing her a piece of paper (my resignation letter, of course) and then telling her among other things, how people don't quit their environment they quit their bosses and how I quit her. How I will never collaborate with her ever again. How she is considered a pariah in her own department. How she is a small scientist whose science is shit. How the reason she has no real friends is because she is insecure, stupid, and narcissistic. How no one wants to hear about when she was a PhD student or postdoc and had to mouth pipette dangerous liquids while walking barefoot 12 mi in the snow. After I walk away, things turn around and I become this big shot industry mogul or TheFuckingBigMan on campus with GlamourMag pubs. We meet at conference where she follows me around begging for me to collaborate with her. Karmic dispensation. Reap what you sow bitch. And I wake up from the dream still standing in front of the mirror thinking how much time just passed? OMG."

As an aside, have you ever been fully aware of what you think about when you brush your teeth? It's a very interesting exercise.

If my mind is inclined towards all that vengeance no wonder I'm feeling misanthropic. I thought I would come up with a plan that would incline my mind differently. Each time I noticed the story, whether it was the beginning, middle or ending I would let it go and do a metta meditation. [For those who don't know, it's a meditation of friendliness where you repeatedly say things like May I be happy, May I be at ease, etc. The idea is to incline the mind towards friendliness. How could one lose with such a strategy?]

By the end of the week, I was feeling worse. In fact it became so bad that it culminated in a vitriolic confluence of angry-postdoc meets why-me-brain-tumor on the weekend. And on top of all the vengeance I was angry that this stupid metta practice didn't work. After I calmed down and HippieHusband wiped away my tears and held me gently, he pointed out that while I may not realize it, he noticed that the meditation has allowed me to meet difficulty with grace.

Instead of abandoning the practice, I asked for help from a my wisdom support teacher, HappyBuddha.

"The problem with doing the metta as a way to counter the anger," she said, "is that you are trying to control the anger with a smile. Suppress it, push it back into a little tiny hole inside you, when what helps is to just be at ease with it."

Her suggestion was to:

1. Take a deep breath.

2. Drop your shoulder and release the jaw (because that's where I feel it) but don't try to control the relaxation.

3. As soon as you notice the fantasy, name the emotion. What is your attitude toward the fantasy? Desire to continue the story. Justification of why your story is valid. The idea is to bring ease not to suppress emotion. So that you can accept and allow the presence of it but it doesn't cause you any additional suffering. Don't analyze just watch it. Observe it and then let it pass. If you can't meet the anger with wisdom then find a way to dissipate it - go for a run, punch a pillow, etc.

The path to wisdom is considered a purification process and so the practice of meditation is making me face my mind. As one buddhist ninja, Suzki Roshi, said, "Getting to know the mind is not good news." Damn straight. Especially when she's one an angry bitch.

Proceed calmly as if there were no doubt of a successful outcome.

If you've found me, welcome. I used to be called Canadian GirlPostdoc in America. But as of late, I have become enlightened.