My forearms were sweating. I couldn’t quite make sense of it, never before having experienced the sensation. It befuddled me. Yet there I was, trying to cool down against all odds before a formal job interview overseas. I’d been working in an adjacent country the year prior, which made this trip across the waters possible. I had no intention of staying long term, mind you; no lust for exploring a new hemisphere. I was going where there was work. So there I was, for this exact reason, trying to control my sweat glands in the University Library before starting the formal interview process.
In hindsight, the day went well. I got the job, after all. By comparison with what I’ve seen and experienced over the course of my career, the interview process wasn’t the marathon usually enforced by the academy. It was a rather civil exercise that consisted of a public research presentation and meeting with the interview committee. I knew their response and my job offer before leaving the office, which meant that we had some planning to do.
There were some oddities to the experience, though, which I haven’t forgotten. I was left alone. While airfare, hotel, and taxi rides were covered, I was left to my own devices for the majority of my visit. No campus tour. No lunch or dinner with the department members or hiring committee. Just flown in for about 2-3 hours of ‘work’.
At that stage of my career, still seeking my first permanent job, I didn’t care as much about what was lacking. Which is not to say that I didn’t notice or register my disappointment. I hold it to this day. After all, I was excited by the opportunity to socialize with potential new colleagues; I just didn’t get the chance on this occasion. A pity.
But I was fortunate in many ways. Not to short-change my own achievements, but I don’t think the job search was widely advertised. To this day, I suspect I may have been the only one who interviewed for the position. It seems absurd to say, but the recruitment process back then was minimal in its effort, with the job ad only being posted on one website, with a tight application window – all of which minimized competition and improved my chances. I would have missed it myself had it not been for a colleague who alerted me to the job’s existence.
The position’s temporary nature (3 years) was presumably also unappealing to some. Temporary contracts can present many barriers for individuals and families. But not to me, at that time of life. Reaching the end of a one-year gig didn’t present many options to overlook the prospect of a slightly-longer job as the next step in my academic journey.
While the Sunburnt Country wasn’t on my bucket list of travel destinations, this was another opportunity to advance my career. I wasn’t thinking about much else besides the continuation of my research, which was gaining momentum in the years immediately following my PhD and post-doc degrees.
Naturally, I took the offer as soon as it was presented to me. There wasn’t much room for negotiation. Months later, following another round of medical exams, national security checks, and visa applications, we set off to a land of possums, koalas, spiders, snakes, and kookaburras.
A three-year appointment eventually became much longer. But at the beginning, I had no idea what the future would hold. This meant that all of our decisions were framed by the impermanence of a temporary job overseas. Even the visa regulations of our entry and stay in the country dictated our options, throwing up obstacles to our actions. We weren’t entitled to public healthcare. We were forced to enrol in expensive but government-mandated private insurance. A pension plan shored up by short-term investments. In a way, the choices were made for us by nature of the offer. Because this country was never meant to be our home. Not our permanent home, anyways.
Fast forward more than one decade, it had become more than that. I just didn’t appreciate it. And it’s taken almost five years to clear my head and recognize the value of that experience (more on that in another post).
I’ve been lucky in my academic career. It has afforded me and my family a host of adventures that I couldn’t have imagined, taking us around the world, often for extended periods of time.
The transition from a temporary to permanent job, however, wasn’t easy or straightforward. While the internal process was facilitated by my direct supervisor, for which I’m grateful, it kickstarted yet another round of immigration applications so that we could stay in the country long-term. It was a costly venture, but a necessary one nonetheless to continue employment.
Yet I still couldn’t fathom the long game. I wasn’t meant to be there permanently. I enjoyed the job security and growth opportunities that my role provided, but I spent the intervening years trying my best to exit. Applying for similar jobs overseas, at other institutions, with very little discernment about where I might land – both in terms of country or institution.
Nothing ever came. Until it did. During the first year of the pandemic. The year that marked so many represents for me and my family an inflection point with many interpretations – positive and negative. It was a period of turbulent transition. And in many ways, the start of another journey which is gradually coming to its natural end.