I fell into academia. What I mean is that I know luck and chance when I see it. Because that’s how I made my start. I’ve made the most of my positions and opportunities, and I like to think that I’ve added value everywhere I’ve gone, but I’m not delusional. The plain and simple truth is that I caught a break, a foot in the door, which I kicked open wide enough to establish a career.
When I was a post-doc in Canada, I was applying for every job available. Wherever in the world it might have been. One afternoon in early Spring, I received an email from an organization about a one-year position to which I applied. I had no recollection of applying, nor did I even recognize the name of the institution. In all honesty, I couldn’t even pronounce the university or town name, both being so foreign to my inexperienced palette.
The email stated that I had been short-listed for the role! This was my first real bite, my first experience in getting past the cover letter stage. I was finally going to get a chance to interview and show my mettle. Or so I thought.
I was wrong. Two or three days later, I was informed by email that a selection had already been made. Naturally, I was extremely disappointed. I wasn’t given the chance I so desired. Fuming at what felt like an injustice, my only recourse was to thank the committee for their time and consideration – a demonstration of diplomacy and tact that I credit entirely to my spouse. (My inclinations at the time were rather different…)
One week later, everything changed. Right after arriving home from the office, I checked my email only to find a job offer sitting in my inbox. Just like that. Dumbfounded, I scarcely had time to digest the information when my phone rang. The Head of the Department was on the line, calling from across a vast ocean, asking if I would accept the offer and join them in under two weeks’ time!
I took the evening to think it through. I had some digging to do first, because as I mentioned above, I wasn’t overly familiar with the institution or geographical location. It was all incredibly new and unexpected. And borderline unbelievable, in the sense that I never had to interview, which is not a common or recommended practice. But there I was, offer in hand, on the verge of taking a big step into the unknown. My first step into the land of the academically employed.
I took the offer. WE took it, to be more exact. The next fortnight remains a blur. We had belongings to sell, move, and store. Plane tickets to buy. Accommodation to find in another country. Work visas to secure from the nearest consulate. And SO MUCH to learn about the country and island to which we were moving.
This experience, and my memory of it, reminds me of the importance of adventure. At that stage of our lives, we were largely unencumbered. We were capable of picking up and leaving quickly. I was at the beginning of my career, where everything seemed possible. And finally, I was being given a chance to make a mark.
I wasn’t – at that point in my life – worried about what might happen, or what might come next. I felt fully present, drunk off the opportunity and the incredulity of how it all happened. In my mind, because the offer was temporary, I assumed we’d be back in North America one year later. Little did I know…
It was an easy decision in some respects. But I often reflect on its randomness. And I tell the story often too, because I benefited considerably from one lucky break. That’s all it took to make or break me. Because sometimes that’s the only difference, when you’re competing amongst highly-qualified people in pursuit of the same goals. One difference that I’ve always considered advantageous, though, was our willingness to move. I’ve tried never to create obstacles around me that might limit my career opportunities.
My first academic job fell into my lap under suspect circumstances. I know it all too well. Somebody else’s decision created an opportunity for me to prosper. The work that had gotten me to that point in my career counted to a limited extent; my application was obviously competitive enough to get some attention, but it was a set of different factors that ultimately led to my first contract. And it was this one opportunity – this one-year, transitory and finite job – that created the next chance.
Thinking back on this experience, I’m always reminded of my good fortune. I’m reminded of simpler times as well, to a period of hope and limitless possibility. And, if I’m being honest, I lament the fact that I don’t see the world through the same innocent and positive lens. Something to unpack at another time!