Where's my cape?
Got some more good data yesterday. As usual, I tried 3 experiments, and 1 worked.
That's about as good as it ever gets.
It's quite typical though, because the one that worked was just kind of dumb luck.
Got the right thing from the right person (but I didn't know that until afterwards), and everything was more or less working like it's supposed to (no stupid technical problems with equipment or running out of reagents, for once).
So in some ways, I'm proudest of one experiment that didn't work.
BECAUSE THIS TIME, I FIGURED OUT WHY!!!
So I'm hoping that next time I will get some actual information out of it.
But I got to have that little lightbulb moment.
Aha! I said. I get it now! Minor victory!
The third one didn't work the way I wanted it to. Part of the problem is lack of decent controls, so it's hard to say whether my hypothesis is wrong or if I'm just not doing it quite right.
And that's okay. Because I don't take that stuff personally. And I got data, so nyaah nyaah, stupid non-working experiment. I'll find a way around you yet! Although it might just be arguing that you're stupid!
Stupid non-working, uninterpretable experiment. Grr. Nobody has the right controls for you anyway! I just refuse to interpret experiments without them!
So the cape in the title of this post actually refers to my inborn desire to fix everything for everybody, especially women who are being abused at work.
Yes, I found out yesterday that one of my colleagues is being harassed by her advisor, but she doesn't want to file a complaint because she's afraid he's going to torpedo her still-lingering publications and/or write her bad recommendation letters.
The creepiest part of the story is that he apparently told her something to the effect of how this is the way of the world, and she should get used to it now, he's really doing her a favor...
Like something out of the fucking 1950s, I swear. What year is it???
I'm not supposed to know he's doing this to her, it's one of those concerned grapevine things, so I can't tell anybody anyway (except you, anonymous black hole of internet!).
But I'm pissed. And I hate feeling powerless.
The thing is, I have to wonder how much of this really goes on and how many women have to go along with it or around it.
I know because it has happened to me. And this is part of why I get labeled "bitch", because I won't go along with it. And they know it. Nothing worse than women you can't intimidate with your dick!
In this case, the advisor is also one of my colleagues, and I have to look him in the eye and not punch him in the [insert sucker punch location here]. Or let on that I even know about this, I guess.
And we know that, even if she filed a complaint, loser advisor guy wouldn't be fired on the spot anyway.
But if she did file a complaint now, and someone else filed a complaint later, that would be the end of him. (Seeya suckah! Try that again at some other university where they won't care why you got kicked out of here as long as you have lots of publications!)
Since generations upon generations of female postdocs don't, however, file complaints, or are told that without witnesses, or something incriminating in writing, there's nothing actionable anyway.
So we know that this same hell will most likely be visited upon someone else.
God help her, whomever she is, and god forgive us for not doing anything to protect Future Female Postdoc. She deserves better.
And now I'm going back to work, containing my rage, and scheming quietly how to make an anonymous website for abusive bosses.