分享一个好帖子 [Lessons from a Recovering Postdoc
Hi. My name’s Belle. And I’m a recovering postdoc.
Maybe you think it will never happen to you. You were a successful graduate student. You got along with your dissertation adviser and your committee members. Your project progressed, and when it was stalled, you had something else to work on. You worked, you published, you defended, and you moved to the postdoc position of your dreams.
Then one day–maybe three, six, nine months later–you wake up to find that the dream is a distant memory. You are tired, angry, bitter, depressed… You have turned into the disgruntledoc that you swore you’d never become.
What happened? You made a decision about where to spend the next 2 to 8 years of your life based on a few hours of interaction with a group of people putting on their best face. There’s a chance you didn’t even spend a full twenty-four hours in the city you decided to call home. Once you’re there, though, you find that some things change, and some things simply never were. The stress of starting over in a new city, the “surefire homerun” project that proves more elusive than the Loch Ness monster, a new departmental and institutional environment, a clash of personalities… These are all factors that might contribute. It’s rarely a single thing that pushes someone to consider walking away and starting over again.
And it’s never an easy decision for those who do. It’s one that is filled with doubt and questions: Is it just because this experiment isn’t working? Am I a bad scientist? Was my PI simply having a bad day? Am I just not committed enough? Am I cut out for this? What will my family think? What about my grad school mentors? Will this kill my career?
At least those are some of the sentiments that crossed my mind, as I struggled for months to make and follow through on my decision.
But I also learned some important lessons along the way.
Trust your gut. I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to convince myself that I was just experiencing “growing pains” associated with switching fields between grad school and postdoc… or that it was the steep learning curve of completely new, nontrivial methods. Both were true to an extent, but I also knew there was much more below the surface. As a postdoc, you have the experience of graduate school behind you. You know enough to realize when things aren’t quite what they should be.
Do not compare yourself to the “golden child”. There’s one in every lab–the trainee that gets along great with the PI, has all the freedom he or she desires, sends out manuscripts, receives praise during meetings… Do not use that individual as a comparator! Use caution in comparing yourself to anyone else in the lab as a marker of what you’re “doing wrong”. Different people have different responsibilities, projects, personalities, and tolerances. In grad school, we told new students that every PI/lab/project has its quirks or eccentricities, and you have to decide which ones you can tolerate. The same is true in a postdoc, but often you don’t have as much time to figure that out until you’re already there.
“Fake it ’til you make it” isn’t always the answer. When I first started to experience doubts about my situation, my first response was, as Tim Gunn would say, “Make it work.” Some people might stick out a tough postdoc and emerge on the other side with publications. If you consider this strategy, you need to ask two important questions: What is the likelihood of getting to the “make it” phase (e.g. getting publications and mentoring that you need for the next level)? And what effect will the “fake it” phase have on you and your career? I did not care for the spread on the “make it” phase. I got into science because I enjoyed it; I feared that none of that would survive the “fake it” phase.
Usually there’s the right choice and the smart choice, but they aren’t always one and the same. Make it work or move on? That’s the choice you face. You might tell yourself, “The smart thing to do is to wait a little longer, work harder, try to salvage something, even a single publication, from the wreckage. Maybe things will get better. Besides, who’s going to hire a “failed” postdoc, especially in this economy?” Then there’s something else saying, “Yeah, finding a new position is a terrifying prospect. But is it anymore terrifying than things remaining exactly as they are?” No circumstances are ever identical, but for me, it was between what seemed to be the smart choice–staying on–and the other choice–moving on. I chose the latter, because it was right for me.
Find an ally. If you’re leaving a postdoc on less than favorable terms, then most likely your PI isn’t going to be very supportive. Add to this, you’re combating all the self-doubt associated with this decision. It’s time to seek out someone you trust, who can provide perspective and feedback, and who is willing to back you up. My PhD research adviser was patient and helpful; talking with him helped clear things in my mind that had been muddied by the turmoil. As a reference for my new position, he was a strong advocate for me. I will never be able to repay that debt.
Rediscover your confidence. You’ve spent months stuck in the mud. You’ve been doubting your abilities and your judgement. You’re convinced no one wants to hire a “failure” of a postdoc with “nothing” to show. You have to stop this cycle of thought. Think about all the things you know, the skills you’ve acquired, the papers you’ve published. Having trouble with that? Prepare an industry CV (or something like it), even if you don’t intend to apply there. Part of an industry CV is listing out competency and expertise in specific techniques, skills, and concepts. A look at the list of things I had mastered during grad school and my postdoc made me realize how much I had going for me and helped focus my job search.
Don’t make it personal. This is a hard one. There is a great deal of tension and, potentially, animosity between you and your PI, running both ways. But you have to keep things professional, even if the courtesy is not returned. When you start sending out letters and going for interviews, keep the focus on you, your skills, and your science. Obviously you can’t just ignore the time spent in your current position, but you can at least cast it in a neutral tone. You don’t have to supply all the reasons you’re looking for a new job, so stick to the ones that are professional and career-driven. Trashing your supervisor during an interview will set off alarms. What you say about your supervisor says much more about you than it does about him or her. PIs can read between the lines; this is a good place to let them do it.
You are not alone. It’s far too easy to isolate yourself… To convince yourself you must be a terrible postdoc, an awful scientist… To tell yourself that no one else has this sort of problem… That anyone else would have made this work. The good and bad news is, you are not alone. When I first mentioned vague doubts and notions of leaving my postdoc lab, I received comments and messages from people, saying “I’ve been there”. Some were postdocs just moving out of similar situations. A couple were PIs telling me that their first postdoc positions were nightmarish. These served as reminders that I wasn’t alone and that a painful postdoc does not necessarily doom my entire career.
After more than a year and a half, I walked away from my first postdoc without a single publication. I have now made another lab my “home”. Things are different. I’m still a postdoc, but I’m happier. Hopefully, you won’t ever need this advice. If you don’t, understand that some postdocs aren’t so lucky. And if you do, just remember: You are not the first, and you won’t be the last, but find a way out, over, or through.

有人总结，四种PI不能碰，AP(assistant professor),F(female),C/T(Chinese/Taiwanese), Unmarried.   当然这些都是一家之言，个人对这些说法持保留态度。 有一个标准可以用于大家加入某lab之前的预先判断，就是PI的变态程度和lab里中国大陆人加上印度人占总人数的比例成正比，因为大陆人和印度人都是典型的吃苦耐劳又老实（聪明与否另说），所以要不是对这方面有特殊需求的PI，是不会故意招很多中国人和印度人。
很不幸，我的前博后老板占了以上三条AP, F, C，并且她是结婚后长期异国分居 组里全是中国人。
本来找博后及很不易，好不容易来了一个offer， 赶紧贴上去，心想变态也就认了，辛苦几年，勤勤恳恳干活，发了文章就可以再找更好的了。还是图样图森破啊！像我这种没能力，没人挺，没背景的小苦力，在人家眼里只不过是药渣，人家榨走你的价值，就不给你发文章。就像两个人谈恋爱，你觉得你跟女神好暧昧啊，马上就要见成果了，各种小礼物走着，各种笑脸陪着，可是人家就是耗着你。把文章发了？怎么可能，人家也知道，发了文章你就该跑了；甩手不干了？三五天给你画个大饼，你吃还是不吃，每周一次汇报，你做还是不做；想走？！没文章你往拿哪走！你在我这做不好有人要你吗？推荐信不给写，让你在圈内混不下去；想留，来，给本PI笑一个，赶紧去实验室给我干活去，下个星期我就要结果；想撕破脸？我一个PI还怕你个博士猴，你看看学校站在谁那边；想让我招不到人？我手里攥着那么多药渣的data，哪个新来的听话我就给点甜头，保准以后到处宣传我的好，给我推荐一堆师弟师妹进坑。
最后，给大家点建议:　和PI相比，博士后是弱势群体，尤其是海外博后，每年你的签证能不能更新就攥在人家手里。你得时刻担心，能不能让PI 满意，能不能续约，能不能找到下家。万一真是走投无路，没有backup了，都是三十左右的人了，不好意思再向家里要钱，这真是要一年半载才能重新安排好新的生活和工作。
另外，我还要说一个真实的感受，如果陌生人或者新的postdoc问我之前呆的这个组好不好，我一定是回答说【嗯，不错】，你的所有问题我都会尽量三个字之内回答你，但是细节我绝对含糊其辞。第一，我混的不好，不代表你就会和我一样；第二，没人喜欢抱怨的人，我不想给别人留下【怨妇】的印象；第三，毕竟我和你是一面之交，以后你站在谁的一边，把我的这些话说给谁听还不一定呢；第四，毕竟人家在我需要的offer的时候，给了我机会，这点还是要感谢的。对于敢曝光的朋友，我非常佩服；对于忍气吞声的兄弟，我也十分理解。
祝愿大家都能有个好归宿！ 返回小木虫查看更多