Trust but verify: side-effects of a life in science

I had an interesting experience about a week ago while hanging out with a new friend.

We were buying beer and pooling our pocket money to give as a present for the host of a going-away party, and didn't have anything to wrap it in. We wanted to be classy and get an envelope.

The scenario basically went like this. We walked into a small liquor store and bought beer. Then we went up to the counter to pay.

Friend: Do you have any envelopes? Or plain white paper?

Cashier: No.

Friend: Okay, we'll just take the beer.

Then we went and looked around the store again, to see if there were any office supplies we had somehow missed. We couldn't find anything.

Then my friend did the unthinkable.

Friend: Are you sure you don't have any plain white paper? Just one sheet back there behind the counter?

Cashier: Oh, yes. Here you go.

I was dumbfounded. Essentially the same question, asked twice, yielded opposite answers.

(If this happens in science, you go home and drink whiskey and come back the next day and try it 8 more times and take careful notes and try to figure out why you got one answer 5 times and the opposite answer 3 times, and then you modify your protocol and do it another 8 times and if you get the same answer 7 times, you publish it and say +/- 1. And write a long discussion section explaining what you think the variables are.)

In this case, I would never have thought to ask again. I spent the whole week thinking about it.

It reminded me of this time during my postdoc when I was struggling with setting up a new technique and I wasn't sure I really wanted to do it and it didn't work on the first try and it was a total pain the ass so I really didn't want to do it over again.

My advisor gave me two pieces of seemingly conflicting advice:

1. I'm sure you did it right. Don't second-guess yourself.

2. Just try it one more time. If it still doesn't work, move on. Get everything fresh and just try it again before you give up.

Now, statistical gurus will tell you that these two truths are not mutually exclusive. Yes, you could have done it perfectly the first time and just happened to grab a black sock instead of a red one. Yes, if you stick your hand back in the sock drawer and rummage around again, this time you might get a red sock.

But when you're trying to make the all-important decision WHAT DO I DO NOW, sometimes it's hard to feel like you're making the right choice. Are you wasting time by trying again? Are you being impossibly stubborn when you should really try a different approach? Or are you giving up too easily?

Which also reminds me of a time during grad school when I was struggling with a technique that worked initially and then stopped working for no apparent reason. I could not figure out what had changed. I hadn't changed anything.

One of my committee members said: You're near an edge.

And I said, What?

She explained that sometimes you get lucky and something works when it shouldn't. Then you go chasing after what are actually the wrong conditions for an experiment, when you'd be better off chucking the whole thing and starting fresh from first principles.

In this particular case, she was absolutely right. We redesigned the experiment and I got it working, consistently.

I never did get it to work the original way again.

It's a little heartbreaking and mind-fucking when you think you've seen something real, and potentially really interesting, and you can't reproduce it. If you're lucky, you're in a field where there are plenty of things to choose from, and you can pick any one of these to pursue or at least try a few times.... before you give up. And then you take a deep breath and try a different one.

In real life, you don't get all these do-overs.

Sometimes you're dealing with the most unpredictable thing in the universe: other people.

I've noticed that doing science for so long has made me really reluctant to trust my own decision making. Yes, in science I always went with my gut, and when I let people (my advisors) talk me out of doing that, I always regretted it. But it was also a fairly low-risk endeavor. I learned early on how to test the waters with cheap, quick pilot experiments. And I never got too attached to any one experiment (unlike my advisors and the ubiquitous asshole reviewer).

I think this lack of self-trust is actually one of the things that makes a great scientist great. The unwillingness to trust any result, no matter how appealing, until it has been thoroughly verified.

You can't say, "Well, it must be right, I did it! And I am awesome!"

No. You have to say, "This might be wrong."

You have to say it over and over and over. Even if you did it yourself with your own two hands, and saw the result with your own two eyeballs. Even if you think it's the coolest thing in the world and you desperately want it to be published in Cell so you can get a faculty position and a grant and a fleet of minions to do your experiments for you.

You always have to keep in mind that the journey isn't from Maybe Wrong -> Definitely Right.

It's from Uncertainty ---> Close Enough For Now.

On a long enough timeline, everything turns out to be just an approximation of the truth.

Sometimes you're pretty much right and you can be proud of that. But you can't really be sure until hindsight.

In real life, sometimes you have to go with your gut and hope you aren't completely fucking everything up. And sometimes when you ask for what seems like an impossible do-over, you can get one. Just because you asked nicely.

Response to Comments on last post: No.

Lamar,

Great literary reference, I actually still haven't read that book. I should put it on my list.

I counter your reference with one from the musical Chorus Line.

One of the characters sings a song about her first acting teacher, who tells her she's Nothing, and the other kids in her class yell that she's Nothing.

So she goes and prays for guidance (I can only get behind this part because she prays to Santa Maria, hail Mary full of grace!).

And she hears a voice that tells her

This man is Nothing! This course is Nothing! Go find a better class!
And when you find it, you'll be an actress!

And the lyrics after that are where she sings:

"And I assure you that's what finally came to pass."

Yes, I play this song a lot.

In other words: Just because some grumpy head instructor tells you "no" does NOT mean you don't have "it."

I've met a lot of different kinds of "it", although I know what you mean about some postdocs really standing out more than others.

But this is why I think science needs to smarten up or lose out.

"It" is not a scientific way to decide who has a unique and important insight to contribute, and who does not.

And being "more aggressive, etc"? Still a LOT easier for guys, and a lot of guys still don't get that.

Aggressiveness is not a sign of being a good scientist. It's a sign of confidence, which is not necessarily indicative of anything scientific.

I know plenty of fantastic scientists who are also fantastically insecure.

Most of the SUCCESSFUL scientists I know pretend to be confident, but it's often just an act. They have a lot of moments of self-doubt.

Most of the aggressive scientists I know? Buncha stupid jerks, just like in every other walk of life where you find aggressive people.

Or did you mean "assertive", the version that's supposed to be okay? As in, having a backbone?

Yeah, still easier if you're a guy. You might have to read more of this blog to find out why.

Girlpostdoc,

I wish it were that simple. I think it varies from lab to lab, and person to person. I've seen people in my lab get taken under the wing, as it were, by my advisor. Pats on the head, pats on the back, all kinds of great mentoring going on there. I've seen other people get... Nothing.

There can be only one favorite in every lab, with the sorts of PIs who choose favorites and probably don't even realize it. I can't say this enough: Having a favorite will always affect how everyone else gets mentored.

Labness,

You sound like you're not used to working with scientists.

NO, most labs do NOT have all the undergrads meet with everyone. Many do not even introduce prospective grad students or postdocs to the other lab members before they are hired. The PI decides.

I'm not saying I agree with this, but I understand why. Interviewing people takes time. And a lot of undergrads drop out of lab work before too long. One semester might seem like a long time to you, but it's the blink of an eye in the course of research.

And it doesn't matter if you or they can't, or don't want to, "hang out."

You're in lab to work, and maybe learn a few things if you keep your eyes and ears open and ask good questions.

That is ALL you are there for.

If you happen to be pals with your labmates, that's great, you'll all have more fun.

If not, you better figure out how to grow up and work together like adults.

If you or they don't fit in? GET USED TO IT.

You're not going to "fit in" everywhere you go in life. Nobody does.

It's really unusual that people are downright disruptive to the work, but in those cases usually a few words with the PI, from a few concerned lab members, will do the trick.

Not being very sociable? That's not disruptive unless the person is so nonfunctional as to refuse to talk to other people in ways that interfere with the work. For example, if the person refuses to answer the phone, sign for packages, or ask questions if it means talking to anyone. That sort of thing. I have seen this kind of debilitating shyness before, but usually people get over it with a little bit of encouragement.

If I were the PI, I would be concerned that the antisocial lab member is depressed. I might try to do some lab social activities to find out more about how serious the problem is, and go from there.

Lab social dynamics are often irritating, but unfortunately in most fields you have to spend time working in or near a group you have no control over choosing.

Personally, my undergrads have all been surprised at how much time scientists in my field spend working ALONE. My work involves long stretches alone with a piece of equipment, or alone at the bench at odd hours when everyone else has gone home.

Oh wait, I only do that by choice. Because I am not Nothing. I have "it." And I have a lot of it.

[I just don't have my own lab (yet?).]