I realize that this is an odd time to be writing this to you, especially since what I am writing about happened more than two years ago. However, it’s something that has been preoccupying me lately for some reason or other – it may be that, with being busy, the disappointment just took a long time to bubble up. Or maybe I just wanted to forget.
So anyway. Do you remember when you approached me about a possible collaboration on a proposal? You thought I was great, and you had a couple of other senior folks that were ‘interested in submitting something’. One of them, supposedly, had the system figured out since he/she had recently done a turn at a major funding agency. So this was going to be a sure bet.
Well, silly me, I believed you. So, despite having a rather demanding full-time job and a small child (so basically: not much spare time, really), I put everything into it. I developed ideas, wrote the thing up – and struggled so hard to incorporate all the different little twists you and the other two wanted to see. You know, that was the problem: all three of you had different goals in this that were really not straightforward to combine. Without trying to fit it all in, we would have had some nice science.
That was the downfall. Admittedly, I should have known this: this was not my first proposal, and at that point, I was not entirely green concerning having an idea of what fundable grants should look like from the funding side of things. And having to think (hard) about how to ‘get it all in’ for about two weeks should have been the final red flag.
But, you see, I wanted this so much to work out. And I ended up with something not too bad, really – getting some good comments from reviewers, and the final assessment saying it should be reworked and resubmitted. More than I could have realistically hoped for, considering. Well, I never got around to resubmitting. I admit that I just ran out of energy!
So, for the real reason I am writing this to you today: please, dear senior researcher, I appreciate that you gave me a wonderful chance and believed in me. But for the sake of others that will come in the future: try to be responsible about asking people that are more junior and in their early careers to write proposals for you. Consider the situation they’re in, and what getting this proposal funded or not funded might mean for them. Because for you, this is probably one of many, and it doesn’t matter that much if one of them doesn’t work out. For them, it’s hopes and dreams and sweat and tears.
Yours sincerely,
Trenchantly put – stick it to the man!
Any likelihood that the PI will see this? It is important that there is this kind of dialogue because, even though the PI was a junior postdoc once, he/she may have forgotten what it was like or have taken a competely different approach to their career trajectory and not ever found themselves in your position.
Then again, some people over-estimate their ability to empathise. I don’t think my own record is flawless in this regard. That’s why it’s good for postodcs and students to have the opportunity to speak up – preferably before it’s too late.
Something my driving instructor used to say when other motorists cut me up:
‘Honestly ! Some people think they were born with driving licences!’
Unfortunately this trait is common to a large number of People Who Are Good At Things. I was once mocked for my clumsy snow-plough turns on my very first ever ski lesson, at the age of 25, by a friend who learned to ski almost as soon as she could walk.
Stephen: I’m not sure whether the PI in question might see this. The thing is, he/she (almost slipped there) is nice and was very encouraging to begin with (but then completely absent when it came to pulling it all together). So I’m in two minds about whether I want him/her to. I do blame myself as well though, I really should have known better.
Henry: What I remember my driving instructor saying is ‘remember that this car is like a loaded weapon – you are driving something that can kill people’… he didn’t say that when we got passed, fortunately.
Cath: Eating snow is part of learning to ski/snowboard as an adult, isn’t it? It’s not as if most of us born flatlanders have a choice..
I think this letter works very well as a lesson to both junior and senior researchers! It doesn’t have to be to anyone in particular and makes points that many of us will be familiar with, from one direction or the other.
To seniors, it asks them to be more conscientious, giving juniors more help in understanding what a good application will look like.
To juniors, it reminds them that they also have a responsibility in choosing their battles carefully. This is something I try to advise undergrads on when I get the chance – it’s really worth getting to know how good your potential supervisor is at people management and teaching before trying to do a PhD with them, rather than simply counting how many papers they churn out in sexy journals.
In the “Art of War”, Sun Tsu spends a long time saying “See that big guy over there that you know nothing about? Just be careful, OK? And do some research on him before you spill his pint.”
And do some research on him before you spill his pint.
So as to make sure it isn’t Begbie from Trainspotting…!
Francis Begbie, the saftest hardman you ever did see.
Mike: the sad thing is that I knew exactly what I was doing when I picked my PhD (and advisor), and I knew what to expect. With the (rather big) proposal mentioned in the letter I seem to have thrown caution to the wind – I wanted it to work out so much.
Steffi, I don’t know if you’d spotted this, but you seem to have sparked quite a discussion at the DrugMonkey blog.
Thanks Cath – it’s been busy this week and I hadn’t seen it…
“…and when the grant is funded, don’t forget that I wrote it and am due part of the funds. Thank you for your attention.”