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So, Adam Ruben has posted an article on his blog over at the Science site entitled The Top 10 Worst Things About Working In a Lab.

I think he’s either an idiot, a loser, or an author trying too hard to sell his book. Or all of the above. Go read the original article if you must, but please come back here and read what I have to say about each of his points. Because I have something to say about each of them–though, as you’ll see, not in the order he put them.

#7: Sometimes experiments fail for a reason. Sometimes experiments fail for no reason.

I’m starting with this one–and reason #6–because I generally agree with both of them.

It’s true, things fail for no reason, and as a result, we scientists end up being a superstitious lot. But really? This is supposed to convince you that science is horrendous? Sorry. This basic principle applies to almost every job (paid or unpaid) that I’ve ever had.

#6: Your schedule is dictated by intangible things.

Sure it is. But then, this is true in so many professions. I have accountant friends who are rarely home during tax season. I have lots of programmer-friends whose schedules are dictated by release dates–is there anything more arbitrary than that?

#10: Your non-scientist friends don’t understand what you do.
If this is true then you’re an idiot, and I hope to God you don’t try applying for an NSF grant. Because if you want an NSF grant, you’re going to have to figure out a way to do outreach–and you’ll want to be able to explain at least the basics of what you do to non-scientists.

I can explain what I do to non-scientists. Does this mean that, when I eventually publish my work–in, say, Environmental Science & Technology–my friends will be able to read and understand my paper? Of course not. But they have a good idea of what I study.

I’ve been able to explain what I do to my friends. Not the methodology, mind you–I’m sure the analytical chemistry would zoom over most of their heads–but I explain what I study and why. And they get it. And I could do the same thing with my research when I was working for SL, studying the thermodynamics of protein active sites. Did they understand thermo? No. Did they understand what I was trying to accomplish? Yes.

I have a friend who’s a mortgage broker. Do I understand what she does? Only basically. She looks at people’s mortgage applications and figures out whether or not they can get a mortgage–and from whom. Do I understand how she does this? Heck no. But I do know what she does. Same thing.

#9: The scientist who is already the most successful gets credit for what you do.

Yes and no. When I publish, I’ll be the first author; Dr. Hand-Waver will be the last author. And there may be several authors (DannyBoy and our collaborators) in between.

When my paper is cited in the future–and I hope it is–how will it be cited? Not as “Hand-Waver et al.” but as “Unlikely et al.” So much for not getting credit.

#8: Lab equipment is delicate and expensive. And you, you’re not so coordinated. Nope. Not so much.

This is true. But his point–that you can either replace things or hire another post-doc–is silly. If your PI writes the budget for the grant properly you’ll have money for equipment (which will break down and need replacement whether you’re a klutz or not) AND a post-doc.

#5: Science on television has conditioned you to expect daily or weekly breakthroughs.

I think he watches too much television. Me? I grew up in a scientific home where almost no television was watched. Plus I raised four kids. I know that any major development takes a heck of a lot of time.

#4: Your work is dangerous.

Oh, yeah. Really? Sorry, but I used to do volunteer work with policemen and firemen. Run into a burning building some time, Dr. Ruben, and then tell me if your work is REALLY dangerous.

#3: Labs are not conducive to sex.

I bloody well hope not! Here at MyU, we have these things called anti-harassment laws. I go to work to WORK, not have sex–or even find a hot guy to have sex with later. I like to keep my work and my personal life separate. But I have to confess…I think scientists are hot. But not Dr. Ruben. I don’t like arrogance.

#2: You have to dress like a scientist.

OMG. Look, most scientists I know DON’T CARE what you look like. If you don’t believe me, go wander through the halls at an ACS or GSA meeting–most of the people are wearing jeans and T-shirts in a place where they’re trying to make a professional impression on others. (Actually, for geologists, wearing jeans is “dressy”–they’d rather be wearing shorts.)

#1:You can feel time creeping inexorably towards your own death.

Jeez. What a loser. If you hate what you do that much, go do something else.

I love what I do. I’m not saying parts of it aren’t tedious (they are) or frustrating (work, @#$*#$% equipment!). But I can get over that: there isn’t a job out there on earth that doesn’t have tedious and frustrating bits to it.

When I was a mom, I changed thousands of diapers. I washed thousands of dishes and thousands of loads of laundry. Do I look back on those years and think, “OMG! What a waste of time! I wasted years of my life on boring tasks that got me nowhere!”

In fact, I don’t. I remember the walks with my kids, the silly times together, the joy of watching a toddler trying to do something himself, the thrill I got when the boys hit major milestones. It was a wild ride. It was an adventure.

And so is science. I love what I do. If you don’t, it’s time to change your attitude.

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Yes, Dr. Hand-Waver actually said that to me. She doesn’t want me to do any long-term planning for ANYTHING until all of our cruises for the oceanography project are set in stone. Given that we got final confirmation of our last cruise something like five weeks before we actually left port, this is not a very comforting thought.

An example of how this affects my life: my last post was about scheduling my qualifying exams. At the time, we said that I’d be doing my oral exams one day and getting on a plane the next…based on our understanding of the cruise schedule, of course.

But now we’re probably going on a different cruise, a new opportunity that’s just come up. This cruise leaves smack dab in the middle of the week during which I was supposed to be taking my written exams. I really should email my committee to tell them that we need new dates–but Dr. HW says that I should wait until I’m sure!

I think I’m going to be on this grant for two years; the inability to engage in long-term planning is going to kill me.

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My program, being interdisciplinary, tends to do its qualifying exams later than most programs: there’s usually far more coursework involved than in traditional programs. I finally got my committee together for the initial meeting and we scheduled the quals.

Written exams: last week of February
Orals: beginning of March.

Ummm…how do you study for interdisciplinary exams? My committee members’ research areas include microbiology, biogeochemistry, isotope geology, environmental engineering, and analytical chemistry. There’s no way I can achieve awesome status in all of those fields.

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…but I’m crossing my fingers anyway.

See, I’ve been trying to get a committee meeting scheduled for the last FOUR MONTHS. I sent out six different doodles last semester…and had no luck.

Well, let me take that back. I actually did get a meeting scheduled for mid-October. But then, just a couple of days before the meeting, something came up for one of the professors and he had to cancel.

I’m seriously hoping that doesn’t happen again, because I’ve finally managed to get everyone to agree on a time once more. So hopefully, this Friday–which happens to be Friday the 13th–we can all sit down and talk about my qualifying exams, which really have to happen this semester.

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Trying to get science done when your lab is 200 miles from the nearest solid ground can be a little challenging. I honestly didn’t know what to expect when I started preparing for this cruise, but luckily I had people who could give me input.

My predecessor, A, said: “It’s like being on a roller coaster…that you can’t get off.” Which is actually pretty accurate, except that it really didn’t help me understand how working at sea would be different from working on land.

Dr. HW said: “Look, you grew up in California. You prepared for earthquakes all of the time. Just think of it as preparing for an earthquake…that’s going to go on without stopping for several consecutive days.”

That turned out to be good advice, because I could look at the equipment I use and say: “This would need to be strapped to a wall…this would probably be OK on that sticky shelf-liner stuff…I wonder if I could duct tape this down?”

And yeah. Doing analytical chemistry when you’ve got 10′-12′ groundswells is challenging, to say the least. But I got used to it really fast…and my data looks beautiful!

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I’ve been wracking my brains trying to think of the best way to write about my research cruise. See, while I’ve never shot for total anonymity, I never feel quite comfortable writing about my actual research. So I wanted to write in a way that captured the feel of the cruise without giving away too many details.

What I have decided to do is to post a bunch of pictures that will give you an idea of what it’s like being on a research vessel for the better part of a week. I seriously thought of writing long captions for each one, but I’m just too darn tired to do that. So before I post the pictures, I’ll write a few snippets summarizing the highlights:

Amazing food…science all day and all night…fun whenever we could make it happen…OMG I’m in the middle of the deep ocean!

P.S. There will be another 2-3 cruises this year.

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January:I finally get around to choosing a committee. I also write one of my more popular posts of all time, asking readers to ponder who they want to be.

February: Nothing exciting was happening at work, so instead I wrote a lot of philosophical posts: the fraud of homeopathy, science appreciation, and things not to say to a depressed person, for example.

March: I had a very, very busy month.

April: My second attempt at giving the departmental seminar.

May: I wrapped up my second academic year as a grad student, finishing all of my required coursework.

June: My greatest Science!Fail week corresponded, not surprisingly, with serious divorce legal issues.

July: I did tons of field work with DannyBoy and received notice that I was going to be doing oceanography in the future.

August:I gave my first ever conference presentation.

September: I actually begin trying to schedule a committee meeting. Note: four months later, I still haven’t managed this task, despite sending out six different doodles.

October: I closed on a new house and much much more.

November:I did outreach for science teachers.

December: I went on my first ever research cruise

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…to Dr. Hand-Waver for writing the word “sub-tropical” into her grant proposal.

The first picture is my back yard: this picture was taken right before I left for the airport. The second picture was taken at our destination the following morning.

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(The first of a series of posts I’m going to do about my recent oceanography field work.)

Three geochemists board a fully loaded 767. What are the odds that two of them will end up sitting together? I don’t know, but it happened anyway.

Dr. Hand-Waver and I sat separately since we both wanted window seats. The guy who sat next to me asked if I was going home or going on vacation. I said neither; I was going to work. He asked what I did and I told him oceanography. He asked if I was going on a cruise with (the local university) and I said yes…then he tells me that he is a professor of geology at that school and that he does sediment geochemistry!

Of course he asked about my work so I told him what I did. Then he asked how I would explain a tricky concept, very much related to my work, to undergrads, since he’d tried and failed. I said my explanation might not be very good (though I actually did give it a shot), so if he wanted more details I could ask (advisor’s first name).

“Wait–(first name) Hand-Waver? (first name) Hand-Waver is your advisor? I know her!!!”

Turns out, Dr. HW and his wife were post-docs together. Dr. HW told me later: “You know that friend of mine we were going to meet up with at UH tomorrow? It’s his wife!”

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I have to post from sea at least once, just to say I did it.

Our port-of-call is a place that most Americans only visit for vacation. So when my friends heard that I was getting an all-expenses-paid trip to this place, they rolled their eyes: “Jeez, UnlikelyGrad, I feel so sorry for you.”

To these friends, I say: I have been on this ship for several days and I have only had one episode of sleep longer than four hours. I have literally been working round the clock for days–a couple hours of sleep here, a couple hours of sleep there. The last time I was this sleep deprived was when I had a newborn baby.

I do get 24 hours in the port city before I head home; I expect to spend most of those hours sleeping. I could have stayed a bit longer on my own dime, but IT’S ALMOST CHRISTMAS AND I NEED TO GET HOME TO MY KIDS. Phooey.

Will post a lot more later–but despite my extreme fatigue, I have to say, I LOVE BEING AT SEA.