After graduating with his PhD, Shane Hanlon struggles to find balance in his science career.
Shane M Hanlon is a scientist turned communicator who masquerades as a storyteller. He got a PhD studying frogs and turtles, tried his hand in government, and is now a scientist who teaches scientists how to talk to non-scientists. Shane is also DC's oldest (but not bestest) Story Collider co-host & producer. He happily lives in Virginia (but still loves DC), tries to get outside with his partner and dog as much as possible, and is medicore at writing witty biographies. Find him @ecologyofshane.
This story originally aired on September 28, 2018 in an episode titled “Overwhelmed: Stories about being in over our heads.”
Story Transcript
I’m sitting in the living room minding my own business, beer in hand, when one of my partner’s friends comes up and asks me, “So Shane, what do you do?”
I've been dreading this question but also expecting it. I live in DC, a town where stories about professions are traded back and forth like currency. People are trying to constantly one-up each other with these exchanges, like Venmo interactions. But I realized, for me at least, the answer to this question isn’t so simple.
I have a PhD. I did the grad school thing. I studied amphibians and reptiles. If you ask my parents what I did, I counted frogs and turtles, which is kind of like saying the Cubs will win the World Series or that congress will pass a bill. It happens; it’s just rare.
So I ended up getting my PhD and after I graduated I was at a crossroads. I loved and still love research. I loved the ivory tower, the unencumbered pursuit of knowledge, the flexible work schedule, but I always wondered what kind of an impact was I making?
As scientists, we prepare, we execute, and then we publish our research. And we start all over. But how often do we step back and ask why? Why am I doing this? Where is this research going? What difference am I making? I wanted to figure that out so I left the ivory tower, again, not because I hated academia but because I wanted to see what else was out there. I wanted to do more.
I moved to DC to do the equivalent of a policy postdoc. Then I did another pretty prestigious fellowship and then I was promptly unemployed. Grad school does not teach you about unemployment and it hit me hard. I had done all the things, though. I had published a bunch, I got grants, I taught, I did the research, all of those things, but I just didn’t know what happened. I went from being on top of the world to being unemployed and living in my brother and sister-in-law’s spare bedroom, doing my damnedest to disclose neither of those facts on OKCupid dates.
And I was just left wondering why? What happened? Did I not network hard enough? Did I not pass out enough business cards? Did I not wear a nice enough suit? And this sounds ridiculous but I was lost, adrift for the first time outside of the ivory tower.
It turns out that I don’t do so well when left to my own thoughts. So in order to kind of get out of this funk and fill the unemployment void, I picked up some side hustles to help pay the bills and to, again, kind of get out of this funemployment, which, by the way, is a horseshit term.
I taught a course in rural Pennsylvania where I got to go out into the wilderness with students and teach disease ecology, which was great because it got me back to research and it got me out of the unemployment funk. I ended up writing questions for Science Bowls and I worked on a policy panel, kind of a mock science policy panel.
I ended up picking up a side job at the zoo where I get to take mostly kids behind the scenes and get really up close and personal with the exhibits, with the animals. And then we spend the night at the zoo camping out in tents on the lawn. I will tell you hearing lions roar, wolves howl, seals bark and DC traffic all in the same thing is an experience that I won’t soon forget.
I love doing all of these things but it wasn’t until I got my current fulltime job that I felt truly settled-ish. When it came time for me to cull all of these side hustles now turned extracurriculars, I couldn’t. Something wouldn’t let me quit them. I felt like the lead in a Nicholas Sparks’ novel. I worried that I was a grass-is-always-greener guy.
I remember when I was applying to jobs, I would apply to something and then I would find something that I liked more. And I would think, “Oh, well, I hope I don’t get that other thing that I just applied for because I like this thing more,” which was ridiculous because I was unemployed.
But I remember talking to a friend at the time and he happens to have the worst case of FOMO I've ever seen in my entire life. FOMO is the fear of missing out, this idea that people are out there doing things, having fun without you. I don't have FOMO or at least the classic sense of FOMO. Few things make me happier than hanging out on a Saturday night with my partner and my dog non-euphemistically Netflix and Chili.
But I thought about it so he wants to do all of the things and I want to do all of the science things. And he has FOMO. Oh, shit. I have science FOMO.
This got me thinking about another all too popular feeling especially in the sciences, impostor syndrome. Those ideas of not feeling like you add up to things, not feeling like you're worthy, not feeling like you're good enough are felt by so many people as we progress throughout our careers. I didn’t necessarily feel like that when I was a researcher, or at least I didn’t think I did. I probably did, because we all do. We just think it’s normal because that’s how science works.
But I felt it when I left academia. Not necessarily that I wasn’t good enough but that I wasn’t doing enough. I think part of this stems from academia itself. As an academic, we are free to and encouraged to do all types of different things. You have to teach, outreach, research, whatever it might be. But in the private or corporate or government sectors, your role is usually more clearly defined, and that’s fine, but I think that’s why I wanted to do more things. I wanted to keep doing all of the things.
All of those side hustles, I’m still doing all of those things. I keep adding stuff to it. I helped start DC Story Collider after I got a full-time job. And I love doing all these things. Don’t get me wrong, but I think I would feel guilty if I didn’t do them.
And that’s what it comes down to. It’s guilt. I feel guilty often, almost always. I need to do all of these things because, if I don’t, I worry about disappointing myself. I worry that if I don’t do anything and everything, I'll be less of a scientist or maybe even less of a person. I used to joke around in a non-joking way that I worry when I’m not worried about something. My anxiety tends to drive me but it also feeds me.
Now, I know that this isn’t probably the healthiest of behaviors. I’m not advocating for this. I’m not trying to defend this. Maybe I am a grass-is-always-greener person. But I want to say that I think that no matter what I was doing, no matter what sector I’m in, whatever field I was in that I would still want to do all the things no matter how burnt out I get.
And I often fly too close to the sun, I would still want to do all the things. Even though the motivations behind this are not optimal, the results are. I have found a way to take all of this guilt, this worry, this concern, this doubt and turn it into a force for good.
Back in that living room with all of these thoughts rushing through this head, my head, this now-friend staring at me thinking, “Is he going to answer me anytime soon?” I realize something. What do you do? For me, that’s a loaded question. I do all sorts of things. Science FOMO has given me the drive, the opportunities, the motivation to do more in science, hell, more in my life that I would have ever thought possible. I don't think I'd be here today without it. I am confident in the decisions I've made regardless of the motivations behind them.
So when people ask me, “What do you do,” well, not enough and more than I should, and that’s okay. Thank you.