A good job

What counts as success depends on where you are.

At one point our navigator was sailing on merchant vessels, while at the same time looking for a permanent position ashore.  Our astronomer was in a similar position, applying for academic positions but (since those were oversubscribed) also sending out resumes for “industry” (meaning any non-academic job, not necessarily things like making cars).  They both noticed a curious shift of viewpoint whenever they went from one environment to another.  In the merchant marine union hall, a good job was a trip with a well-paying company that might notice you and make room for you once you got your Chief Mate’s license.  Shoreside jobs were few, and mostly for those who for personal reasons (medical or otherwise) had trouble with extended periods at sea.  Jobs out of the industry were not mentioned often; the attitude was something like, if you’re a sailor, you belong at sea.

But once out of the union hall and on (say) a company’s website, success took the form of an interesting and complex project managing a team of skilled technical people that would, incidentally, bring a hefty profit for the company.  Going to sea was a blue-collar job; necessary, maybe, but for someone else to do.

Likewise, an astronomer in academia who succeeded had found a tenured position and brought in significant grant money reliably, doing research that some people thought was important.  One who had to resort to a job in industry had somehow failed.  Meanwhile, from outside academia, those inside appeared to be doing almost pointless things for a pittance.  Quaint and romantic, but not quite adults.

Our photographer has only had a glimpse inside the Art world, but the same sort of thing applies.  Success is measured by solo shows at prestigious venues and being noticed by important critics.  Actual income is interesting, but not the primary index it is in industry.

Now, most artists do not make a living at it, and most astronomy PhDs do not wind up  with permanent jobs in the field.  One would think that in these places (at least) there would be a recognition of other career paths and that some might be worthwhile.  Indeed, astronomers in general realized years ago that most graduate students would go elsewhere, and have made efforts to include something about other alternatives in their programs.  We haven’t seen any studies of how effective this has been, but only note that those who have succeeded in academia are not necessarily well-qualified to prepare students for life outside it.  At any rate, all the prizes for achievement in astronomy are prizes for achievement in astronomy.

Our observation raises the question: how can one stand outside the various environments and judge impartially?  Is it even possible?  Surely some sort of criteria are necessary in order to make any judgement at all.  But any kind of general discussion of the matter is far beyond what will fit in this kind of blog post.

At least there’s a bit of comfort for anyone discouraged by seeming failure in their chosen field.  They could actually be succeeding as seen from somewhere else.  And if you’re basking in your own success, someone else sees you as rather pitiful.