Adieu, Audit Lady

At first, I was pleased my postdoctoral institution would forward my email for the next 18 months.

“Isn’t that nice of them?” I asked Friend, my closest companion for the time I spent doing research after graduate school. She remained unimpressed, hypothesizing that there must somehow be a catch. With visions of reconnecting with lost friends who used my old address at Christmastime, I somehow missed what Friend foresaw.

“Dear Katie,” the note began. “I still have not received the necessary documentation to complete my audit of your study. I know you have taken another job, but you still must revise and resubmit the proposal to committees entitled Bad and Worse. In addition, I require these three forms to be completed and returned. I appreciate your prompt attention to this matter.”

I sighed when I saw it, frowned darkly while I read it and swore when I was done. I folded my arms across my chest and tapped my foot on the floor, agitated and annoyed. I recalled my training in how to respond to events such as these – unfavorable reviews of papers or grants, unreasonable timelines from collaborators, disappointing reception for abstracts, and bureaucratic nonsense. Read. Understand. And wait. Let the emotional intensity decrease and respond with polite acquiescence. Find another journal, make changes in my proposal to get past a review committee, change my plans to deal with new workload requirements, fill out the stupid forms and make the infernal revisions.

“Dear Audit Lady,” I typed after a moment of giddy realization. “I understand the necessity of ethics review and audits thereof. I have carefully planned and executed several studies, always allowing for adequate time for IRB approval. But, frankly, I find requests to revise and resubmit studies that have been closed to be ridiculous. I’m afraid I’m unable to accommodate your requirements.”

I’m happy to be working in industry. I like the direction. I embrace corporate structure. I rather enjoy the meetings, especially when there are treats and coffee and lunch. Sharing a goal with my team is delightful – I’ve yet to miss those worries of who will take first authorships. I shrug off paper rejections and instead coo over my pay stub. I love my job. And, to be fair, I felt lucky to do research and work with some brilliant, wonderful people.

But I saw another email from Audit Lady arrive, continuing her demands without any reasoning behind them. I pondered my reaction for approximately two seconds. Then I pressed delete.

“I’m done,” I said out loud, closing the laptop with a satisfyingly final click to underscore my point. “I don’t want to, and you can’t make me.”

And while I’m sure I’ll sigh and handle any number of ridiculous tasks on my current career path – and I’m equally certain I’ll blog about them – it felt amazing to ignore that email. Farewell, Audit Lady. Good luck with your forms.