I can just picture the meeting of the product development team – the same meeting happening in every laboratory supply company around the world. Disillusioned bench scientists seated around an expensive table, leaning towards a speaker phone as the vice-president in charge of new technology makes it clear that true innovation is too risky. There is too much blood loss on the cutting edge.

“What we need is any tout-worthy improvement, no matter how modest. Shorten a procedure by 30 minutes. Cut the enzyme required in half. One touch operation with a suite of pre-programmed operations. As long as the product requires specialized consumables to which we have exclusive distribution rights!”

My insight arrived on the back of an hour spent investigating the marvels of Millipore’s SNAP I.D. System – a snazzy filtration based system for processing Western blots that claims to shorten incubation and washing times to 30 minutes in total, reduce the amount of both primary and secondary antibodies required (after extensive optimization which undoubtedly requires more antibody than I would have used in the course of my experiments had I simply followed my instincts in the first place), and improve sensitivity, as evidenced by several remarkably clean examples – possibly too clean. What’s not to love? And since the device was recently purchased by our shared molecular biology facility, I thought I would give it a go.

But as I read through the details of the operations manual, it soon became evident that I would have to supply a non-reusable ‘blot holder’ – a chunky polycarbonate reservoir lined with some sort of magical Millipore filter. I was a little miffed, but I rang up the distributors to inquire as to their cost – a shocking $11 Australian per blot. I was appalled, but could not resist performing the calculations of time-cost savings based on my current salary. In reality, the actual hands-on time of performing a Western by traditional methods turned out to be considerably less than 30 minutes. Therefore, using their device would actually cost me more time and money for a supposed increase in sensitivity that is not required for my application.

In this world of ecological concern for over-flowing landfills, I find it nothing short of criminal that companies strive to develop products that require unnecessary plastic consumables so that they can guarantee a continued source of income from each product they sell. What is so wrong about just creating a genuine time-and-money saving procedure that also benefits the planet?

And as my imagination harkens back to that board room meeting, I imagine myself there, voicing my concerns for the environment, and being told with by a marketing executive with a perfectly straight face “Well, actually, the polycarbonate in each blot reservoir represents one balloon’s worth of a carbon sink, so in reality, we ARE saving the planet – one Western at a time.”

I don’t get really excited about science very often, and I rarely go to seminars outside of departmental requirements, and I certainly never get excited about scientific seminars…but today I went to one that blew my tiny little brain apart! Now mind you, I am JUST a research assistant, so much of the meat and potatoes of this talk went a bit over my head, but I am enough of a scientist to know when I have just heard some cool stuff from a really smart guy, and today, that smart guy was John Mattick.

I have been vaguely aware that there have been some big changes in the dogma of ‘junk DNA’ in the decades that ensued between the time I bashed my first promoter and the completion of the human genome project, but I haven’t really kept with the current theories or research. (And if you are hoping for a well-referenced and linked-up blog entry here, well, sorry.) For example, I have heard that the genome may be transcribed in both directions (such that when read forwards it encodes a transcription factor, but backwards says that John Lennon is Satan), and that much of what is thought to have no function, may actually be transcribed into ‘non-coding RNA’ that does…oh, something or other.

But today, John convinced me that not only is RNA the primary regulator of gene expression and cell differentiation, it is most likely THE mechanism by which environmental factors feed back to a cell to alter the function of expressed proteins and alter the genetic code. Basically, RNA provides a very plausible and rapid mechanism for evolution – and not in a “oops, I made a mutation, let’s see if there is a selective advantage” kind of way, but in a “hmmm, this change in receptor function is really working for me, let’s incorporate it into the gene – oh heck, let’s put it in the germ line and remember this change for future generations” kind of way.

Radical!

Without going into the all nitty-gritty bits (it would take a week – and it was only a one hour seminar), he showed some compelling evidence that many of the regulatory functions of a cell are mediated by RNA. I have often wondered just how a signaling cascade of all the same players can result in such different functions in different cells – John suggested that RNA molecules may serve as chaperones, guiding protein-DNA or even protein-protein interactions.

Some of his other crazy notions:

1. 3’UTRs may be expressed independently of their cis-coding sequences, sometimes even in completely different cell types that do NOT express the CDS at all…AND knocking down expression of the 3’UTR bit can alter function of said gene product. (I don’t know why, but this idea actually makes me moist.)
2. RNA polymerases can ‘create’ small bits of RNA by backtracking and clipping out 18 nucleotides when they bump into a +1 nucleosome and that these little bits help mark the places where transcription has occurred, and may influence epi-genetic modifications.
3. DNA:DNA:RNA triplexes are allllllll over the genome. Just what are they doing??
4. RNA editing of mRNA (or any RNA for that matter) by non-coding RNAs can occur in response to environmental stimuli (for example, in glutamate receptors)
5. RNA directed re-coding of DNA via epigenetic mechanisms may be the basis for plasticity and memory.
6. Non-coding RNA may even function as an extracellular signaling mechanism.
7. Dawkins and Gould pussed out and didn’t go far enough…intelligence is not a by-product of selection – it is inevitable.

…and that was when my brain exploded.

Phew, I need a beer!

I am furious and indignant at the difficulty and expense of acquiring a new battery for my three year old phone. It is easier to buy a whole new phone. Planned obsolescence is all well and fine when it comes to a washing machine, but then learning the operating system of a new washing machine is far more straight forward than figuring out how to program my phone’s dictionary to contain the wide collection of expletives required by me in daily electronic conversation. I hear echoes of my mother when I express my dismay at my ever diminishing ability to learn new platforms, especially ones which involve pressing small buttons with tiny print on them.

Needless to say, I am not much of a gadget person, but I am entertaining the prospect, that if I am being coerced into purchasing a new phone, I may as well lash-out for once and get something really flash (and hopefully, more enduring.) Naturally, my thoughts wander to the painfully trendy new iPhone and I can almost imagine myself fondling the slippery flat brick, but I could not bring myself to imagine me walking through the doors of the jam-packed Apple Store.

So before I begin my telecommunications device research in detail, I have a question for all the iPhone fans out there: Aside from allowing you to frequently remark “Look what I can do on my iPhone”, do you actually ‘use’ your phone for doing anything other than sending texts and making phone calls?

Or, can phones even make phone calls anymore?

I thought I would write something funny, maybe something about the fabulous niche marketing opportunities for siRNA Balanced Electrolyte Drink or PAGE Low GI Gluten-Free Biscuits or RT-PCR Energy Gel with Guarana, Ginseng, and 2.5 mM Magnesium Chloride, but I couldn’t think of anything…

…now I want my $5.26 back…

I have a profound appreciation for the difficulties of being a non-native speaker in a foreign country. I refer to my experiences of living in Mexico, although on occasion, communication in Australia can be just as challenging, although such challenges usually result from mere vocabulary issues rather than complicated matters of form and structure. (For example the time I stormed into my apartment managers’ office demanding they do something about the caulk in my bathtub…seems it is called ‘silicone’ here.)

English is a particularly difficult language to learn, and I admire anyone with the courage to strike into the professional world with a mere smattering of mastery. I recently attended a seminar given by a Chinese national who three months ago stepped off the plane with an English vocabulary consisting of “yes” and “thank you”, two words which will indeed take you very far in life. Although it was choppy, he had made great strides and accurately communicated some fine results.

I often expostulate that English is a flexible and accommodating language, and that as long as you get your point across, then it is indeed communication. However, patience fades somewhat when it comes to the anonymous letters of application for research opportunities that drift daily through my inbox. For example:

Dear Dr’s

I am 30 years old, a Veterinarian from the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine, National University of Colombia, located in Bogotá – Colombia.

I am contacting you with the purpose of introduce my self and inquire about the possibility to do the research project. I have been interested in Cardiovascular,Circulation, Failure Heart and Renal Falilure

I finished my master degree in physiology; I finished my thesis work, it was trying to Evaluated the functional of the left ventricle with echocardiography Doppler in dogs with failure heart.

I was doing a fellowship in UCLA in Lab Animal the last year; It was amaizing , I had my Recomended lettler.

I would like to continue my formation in the area of medicine and physiology science in order to enrich my country like professor and researcher. I am a very motivated and diligent student and, as you will find in my documentation, and I have had research experience. I have attached my CV. I would appreciate if you review my academic story and achievements and, consider the possibility to accept me in your program.

Financiation: My country and The University of Sydney World Scholars awards provide opportunities for academically gifted PhD candidates who have developed innovative research projects to undertake a PhD degree at the University of Sydney with financial suppor ( see it ,at the end of the attach).

Thanks in advance for your help, and I look forward to hear from you soon.

When applying for a job, I am of the opinion that one should make every effort to make an excellent first impression, and that would include demonstrating that you know how to locate resources that help you make a good impression. However, poor diction aside – afterall, I was able to get the point of this letter AND was duly impressed with his qualifications – who keeps advising these people that sending out random blanket letters to entire universities with the salutation ‘Dear Professor’ (or sometimes even ‘Dear Prof’) is a fine idea? These letters smack with a desperation that says “I will take anything” and while that may be true, why would you want to work for a lab that would take you on merely because you have your own money?

I fully understand the attraction of externally funded candidates, but I am also poignantly aware that principal investigators are not immune to the power of the ego and want to believe that an applicant knows something of their research and has a legitimate reason for wanting to work in their lab.

I am curious to know how other researchers view these types of applications. Does it matter to you that an applicant doesn’t bother to find out what labs are pertinent to their research interests? Do dollar signs and free labor outweigh demonstrations of motivation? And, how willing are you to take on employees that will most certainly tax your powers of creative communication?

One of the great things about working at a University is being around students with their youthful exuberance and curiosity. One of the worst things about working at a University is being around students with their youthful confidence and ignorance. It doesn’t help that I am an incurable eavesdropper.

“Is he hot?”

“Well, kind of, but he is the kind of a guy who thinks a trilobite hard drive is sexy.”

Well, who wouldn’t.

“Can you pick me up a copy of the HES on Wednesday?”

“Am I supposed to know what an HES is?”

“The Higher Education Supplement.”

“Supplement to what?”

I can hear the impatient sigh in his type-written words on my screen.

“The Australian. It’s a newspaper. You buy it at newsagents.”

“Oh. Yes. I can do that.”

“Good. You can mail it to me. Oh, and pick up a copy for yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Well, he has already directed y’all to the online version, but that robs you of the pleasure of gazing upon his smug visage. (Sorry, my university does not provide color scanners.)

From Black Knight to King in one short article. Such shameless self-promotion!

“I’m having trouble writing my abstract. Can I use your computer?”

“What’s wrong with your computer?”

“Nothing. I just write better at your desk.”

“OK, can I use your computer?”

“No, stay here. I feel beeter when you are sitting next to me while I write.”

“You are f%*#ing kidding me, right?”

“Pleeeeeze?”

And so I spent the rest of my afternoon tossing and turning on the periphery of my own workspace, while the graduate student tapped away on my keyboard in blissful productivity.

Three times last week, I was accused of showing maternal instincts. Little do they know that in the depths of my imagination, I am tearing out their throats and eating their internal organs to help protect the herd from their scientific ineptitude.

Is science a calling? Is it possible to just ‘fall’ into a career in science?Or is passion a prerequisite?

There are certain occupations in which the occupants seem compelled to offer some sort of excuse or apology along with their job description. This is especially true of tax agents and accountants. No one spends their childhood fabricating columns of fanciful numbers and dreaming of the day when they get to delve into 1000 pages of fresh legislation governing the nuances of income excises.

“Well, I wanted to be a hip-hop star, but I was good at numbers and my company offered a good dental plan.”

I may be wrong, but I do not believe this is true of scientists (or people who would call themselves such, anyway). I think every scientist can trace their passion back to a collection of early influences that shaped their way of looking at the world and drew them inexorably toward a life of inquisitive investigation. Not discounting the importance of aptitude, I believe a fundamental set of abilities must be present in an individual to support scientific inquiry – just as I cannot ‘visualize’ a symphony, others cannot comprehend Van der Waal forces – but those fundamental abilities must be sparked and fanned into a raging firestorm of a really bad metaphor.

Aside from an occasional lesson in astronomy or a field trip to the salt marshes, public elementary education in California offers little in the way of scientific curriculum. Luckily for me, I was identified as a Mentally Gifted Minor (or Mentally Gifted Morons as we dubbed ourselves) and drafted into a weekly program that not only got me out of regular classes, but offered the opportunity to build and ignite volcanoes, design electrical circuits, and ask empirical questions about different species of isopods. I can trace the genesis of my curiosity about the workings of the world to those lessons taught by Denise. The lessons were her Master’s project, and I wonder if she has any idea of the impact her attention and openness had on my future. Denise was the spark.

My parents fanned the flames by recognizing and encouraging my interests. Perhaps they were simply frustrated that all my baby dolls and Barbies ended up with shaved heads and transplanted limbs, but they began to substitute chemistry sets, geology kits, and anatomical models of the human body as Christmas gifts. After tiring of the ‘magic’ of titrating pH indicator, I would spend hours mixing random chemicals in pursuit of an effective weed killer, but succeeded only in turning my fingers green (gloves not included). Ants and tomato worms fell under the hammer and were smushed onto microscope slides. I spent hours gluing plastic spleens into place until I fainted from the fumes of the cement.

But it was my 7th grade science teacher Mr. Hodges who ignited the firestorm. Really, he deserves an essay unto himself. He was insanely enthusiastic about science and taught his lessons with humor and irreverence. He was constantly getting in trouble with the school board because he would let us blow soap bubbles with natural gas and pop them with a sparker. He was nearly arrested when we measured the speed of sound by firing a gun off the top of the old Hoover Building. He popped cow eyes into his mouth and inflated pig lungs by blowing into the severed trachea. He allowed us to experience frost bite by pouring a mixture of dry ice and acetone into our palms. He gave extra credit to anyone who would test the efficacy of home made ipecac and hosted dry dog food eating contests, though I am still unclear as to the purpose of that exercise. I have forgotten the content of entire courses of my college education, but I remember every single day of class with Mr. Hodges.

In high school, Mr. Hodges was replaced by Dr. Desch, who often showed up to class drunk and stoned, but taught at an advanced level which quickly weaned out the students who lacked a natural aptitude for science. He too was insane, and would jump up on the desk stomping and yelling “poda, poda, poda, means what? FOOT!” To this day, my accountant friends may know nothing about the natural world, but they will never forget the translation of ‘poda’. (He also had a profound influence on my reproductive choices by showing graphic pictures of ectopic pregnancies, but that is another story.)

Despite not rearing my own offspring, I relish the opportunity to work with young students, especially in a scientific capacity. I often deeply reflect on the people who had an impact on my youth, and I carefully consider how I wish to present myself to impressionable children…and then I act like an insanely passionate, endlessly curious, ridiculously enthusiastic mad scientist, cognizant that some of those kids have the fundamental abilities and innate interest and need only to see an example of just how incredibly fun science can be.

“So, what do you do?”

A relatively innocuous question frequently asked as a conversation starter at social gatherings, it fills me with anxiety and triggers a complicated analysis in which I weigh the intelligence and experience of the person asking against the impression I wish to make upon them.

Are they snotty trust fund babies, bloated with the self assurance that comes from a liberal arts education and no need for gainful employment?
I want to impress them that I have a purpose in life:

“I am a research scientist.”

Are they gregarious members of the uneducated working class with hearts as open as their options are closed? I want to distance myself from the
elite:

“I work in a research laboratory.”

Are they my degreed peers?

“I am just a research assistant.”

Just? I cannot explain why I feel compelled to humble my vocation in this manner. I do not hold a PhD as a matter of personal choice, not because I possess any shortcomings of intelligence, ability, or ambition. However, I am poignantly aware of the assumption that a master’s degree is the consolation prize for those who couldn’t cut it – that I must not have been ‘good enough’ and have therefore settled.

I mapped out my scientific career at age 13 when Mr. Hodges, in the seventh grade version of journal club, assigned an article about the cloning of the human insulin gene. With clarity I have never known since, I determined that I would get an undergraduate degree in Biology, work in a university laboratory to gain experience then go to work for a big biotech company who would pay for my Master’s degree. Then, I would discover a cure cancer and win the Nobel Prize.

Although I have made a few modifications to the final two goals, I have otherwise fulfilled my destiny. While working at a university, and witnessing the incredibly inadequate people who were receiving degrees, I briefly entertained the idea that my aptitude obligated me reach for more, that I should get a PhD merely because I could. But I was fortunate to have a wonderful mentor who helped me honestly evaluate the demands of being a principal investigator against my personal aspirations.

I came to understand that what I really wanted was to be a bench scientist, to be in the trenches doing things with my hands, not stuck in an office reading and thinking and writing and delegating and begging for money. I wanted to be passionate about experimentation, but I also wanted to be able to put it away at the end of the working day (and I wanted that to be at 5:30) and devote my energies to other facets of life. I wanted to solve problems and answer questions using tools and technology, but I recognized that I am not especially good at identifying the problem or asking the question. Most importantly, I wanted to never be required to attend staff meetings and battle the infuriating politics that inevitably stall both academic and corporate research endeavors.

Now that I am looking back on nearly two decades of lab work, I am
profoundly satisfied with my achievements. Not obligated to
specialize, I have worked in the fields of cancer, drug addiction, endocrinology, metabolism, neuroscience, and pharmacology. I can do things that a ‘real scientist’ cannot. My mastery of an enormous breadth of techniques makes me infinitely employable, and my skills have taken me around the world. I can change jobs and location with relative ease and security.

I am currently working in a university setting once again and am heavily involved in the training of PhD candidates. Invariably, throughout the course of their education, they experience a crisis of direction as they face the realities of life as an academic scientist and their chances for obtaining these rare and coveted positions. Some find their strength and their passion – usually because they stumble on a fortuitous (and never to be repeated) discovery – the sort of Eureka moment that lays the foundation of scientific addiction.

But many never understood that being a professor meant running a lab and managing people. They never thought about the amount of administrative work or the pressures of applying for grants or the hazards of not publishing or that they might be required to teach. No one told them about the long hours they would be required to invest in repetitive failures, or that they might be forced to consider living in Iowa or Mississippi in order to get a three year appointment. They just liked science and were indoctrinated to believe that holding a PhD is the ultimate measure of ability.

I like to counsel these distressed students, to tell them my story. I try to help them understand that there are many viable career paths in science and that being a lab head is not the only measure of success. I want them to understand that you can still consider yourself a scientist, even if you are just a research assistant.

Depending on who’s asking…