New Tricks

I smiled and rolled out of bed before my eyes were open.

“Hey, Buddy,” I said to the eldest of Carrie’s three dogs, a tiny terrier who had hit the side of the bed three times in his attempt to join me for naptime. He was just too little and old, age 15, to make it. So I stood up and bent down, asked if he was ready, then waited for his little legs to push off the ground before I lifted him up and placed him gently on the mattress.

“Good boy,” I murmured, smoothing his coarse coat before snuggling back into my comfortable bed, six pillows and dreams about moving and jobs and decisions. There was once a time when he could bounce in excited greeting and reach my nose, I remembered of Buddy. But situations and abilities change. Creatures adapt. And, many times, it all works out in the end, I decided as Buddy tucked himself in the curve of my ankle to sleep.

Carrie is being tortured by nausea and other less-than-delightful pregnancy symptoms so the trip thus far has been very low-key. I’m pleased – not at all with her condition, for I wish she was happy and glowing – but with the time to rest and think and make phone calls. I’ve already spoken to someone about moving belongings, a new mortgage, where to send mail, turning off most services and arranging last lunches with people before I depart. I’ve been most productive, which pleases my efficient, little heart. But we did leave the house today for a quick trip to work (I had to fax a form, Carrie had to finish some slides) and we had lunch with Jane on one of her trips back to this location from her new job.

“So?” I asked the woman I met a couple of years ago at a conference. “How is it? Are you happy?”

“I am,” she answered, but shrugged. “There are days when it seems like the best decision of my life and others it feels like the worst.”

“Transitions are hard,” I noted and she nodded in agreement.

“I do like it though,” she said. “It’s a good move for me.”

“Well, absolutely,” I replied immediately. When I met Jane, she had barely been able to come to the major conference in her field. While Carrie and I stayed high above the conference in the recommended (and very nice) hotel, Jane walked for upwards of a mile from her cheaper room. Her PI couldn’t afford anything better, she explained, and plus, she was happy to have the exercise.

I raised my eyebrow dubiously but didn’t comment to my new friend. We were talking about job security – always a problem – and salaries later. She was wondering when she could get her car fixed and wistfully speaking of houses.

“How much does she make?” I asked Carrie later as we were alone, either eating, napping or complaining about how something was appallingly unacceptable – this is why we’re good pals.

“Thirty-five,” she said and I frowned darkly, prompting a request for explanation from my longtime friend. “Well,” she replied when I said that seemed low, “it’s NIH scale. So pretty standard.”

“Pretty low,” I insisted, reminding her that I turned down a post-doc when they offered scale, though they offered more money if certain grants got funded. “I turned down forty from here,” I reminded her of my offer when I interviewed for post-docs, and her eyes widened as she nodded.

“I forgot about that,” she mused.

“Jane should ask for more,” I decided, thinking that I’d started making closer to 50 than 40 at the job I took. And I’m not that cool – I think people need to let go of this ‘PIs can’t help it! They pay what they can!’ nonsense and start rolling their eyes at ridiculously low dollar amounts. Perhaps it’s specific to my field – though I sincerely doubt it – but I know several people at private and public institutions, all of whom are paid far more than scale off NIH grants of various types.

“Is the money OK?” I asked Carrie hurriedly of her new job when I sat down to lunch ahead of Jane.

“Six figures,” Carrie nodded and I smiled, pleased.

“All of my stuff is ordered,” Jane replied when Carrie asked. “The lab is set up and beautiful. I’ve been talking to people and writing IRBs and setting up collaborations. It’s a bit new, but it’s exciting.”

“You have an office?” Carrie asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Jane sighed. “It even has a private, attached bathroom.”

“Wow,” we all sighed and I thought of my cubicle waiting up north. But I smiled again, truly pleased for the woman who was sitting beside me. She offered me a job in her lab – they wanted her so badly, they gave her hiring privileges – and I’m thrilled someone so lovely did so very well.

So I was happy about that, settling easily into an afternoon nap, when I heard Carrie’s husband on the phone.

“I’m the driver,” he said last night as he chauffeured us to dinner and the bookstore. “You can call me Baldwin,” he decided.

“That’s your driver name?” Carrie clarified and when he replied in the affirmative, I decided it was a blog name as well.

Baldwin struggled a bit after grad school. He did a post-doc and was expected to guide students rather than do independent work. He moved after several years and worked for someone who almost immediately switched institutions and cut off some promising research he’d been doing. He took a visiting spot and finally began teaching as he’d always wanted. They screwed him over there too and just when I thought maybe it was Baldwin and not academia, he found a job he loves.

And he’s brilliant. Teaching awards and grants, summer research and fantastic reviews.

“It’s not fair,” he said on his phone call. He paused for a moment to listen before asking if they could take part of his salary and pay a student who was teaching a lab. And the cynical part of my heart melted – there are people who struggled and then became compassionate, wonderful faculty members. When he speaks of how he loves working with students who think themselves incapable, I cock my head and coo at him. When he pushes for policy changes that benefit both students and staff, I beam at him proudly.

I woke up when Buddy started to yip in his dreams and curled to pat him soothingly. I moved to the living room with the laptop, deciding to tell you a story about people I like who are doing very well for themselves after switching jobs. I rather hope I’ll use myself as an example not too long from now.