Category Archives: Doing research

Keep calm and opt out

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“A master has failed more times than a beginner has even tried.”

I read that on Facebook the other day. I can’t remember whose quote it was, but after having received my second rejection in two weeks it spoke to me. That is not to say that this spring has been all bad. I’m not getting rejected on all fronts; after all, I did land a position at the university where I’ve been teaching on short-term contracts, and the work on my opting out book is developing nicely. But it’s funny how we tend to remember the negative bits – the critique and rejections – better than the positive. In part it’s because it just takes so much mental willpower and emotional strength to keep getting up after getting knocked down again and again, and although I feel like screaming at times I keep doing it. Keep getting up. Though I do sometimes ask myself just how dreamy this living my dream business really is.

As I write this I look up longingly at a silly postcard I have thumbtacked to the bulletin board above my desk. It says: “Keep calm and opt out”. It offers me a bit of solace. Not because I’m planning to opt out again. No, but because I started to opt out about seven years ago and I’m still continuously doing so every single day, or at least the card reminds me to. Opting out is not a one off thing. It’s a process. It’s a state of mind. And it provides a feeling of control when everything else seems to be spinning out of control.

The academic world works according to rules that I’m sure frustrates most academics, at least some of the time. And many are very critical of it, but at the same time they shrug and say that’s just the way it is. If you want an academic career you just have to play according to the rules.

But if so many dislike the way things work, then why don’t we do something about it? Maybe the reason is we don’t all dislike it? Maybe we can’t imagine an alternative? Or maybe it’s just that we feel unable to do anything about it? Social theorist and psychoanalyst Paul Hoggett makes an interesting observation. While Anthony Giddens’s structuration theory holds that anyone who is capable of reflecting over his or her situation is also able to change the structures in which he or she exists, Hoggett argues that there are in fact a lot of people who are able to reflect, but that at the same time are painfully aware that there really doesn’t seem to be much they can do about their situations. He calls this state ‘self as reflexive object’. Maybe that’s the problem? Maybe that’s why some, especially early post-docs, opt to leave academia? Maybe it isn’t only the lack of funding or positions, maybe it’s the feeling that you have no control over your career and thus your life, and that there is nothing you nor anyone else can do about it?

I sometimes jokingly say that I’m a tourist in the academic world. Partly it’s because I’ve had this whole other career before I started doing research and I obviously have that to fall back on, or to go back to should I decide to. I feel like I’m standing with one foot in the academic world and one foot in the business world, and I really like it that way. It’s kind of my way of opting out. I mentally refuse to be assimilated (although I am dedicated, one doesn’t exclude the other) and I resolutely hold on to the ability to critically recognize what works and what really doesn’t, in both worlds. And it gives me comfort, because when I feel powerless to change what doesn’t work, and when I keep getting hit by rejection after rejection, it keeps me from losing my sense of self. It allows me to still be me.

I think that’s the main issue here, whether it’s about frustrated academics or mothers of young children or managers who long for a simpler life. The hectic pace, the rigid rules, and the lack of control over our lives makes us feel like we’re losing ourselves, and our sense of dignity.

A while ago I wrote a blog post where I explained how I don’t advocate opting out, because what would the world look like if we all opted out of jobs, of organizations, of society as we know it. While I still stand by my words, I’m also thinking what a narrow view I had of opting out in that moment. Because opting out doesn’t have to mean leaving the work you’re doing. It’s a state of mind. It’s hanging on to who you want to be. It’s living and working in a way you can live with. It’s an ability to prioritize and put things in perspective. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s creating alternative solutions and changing the rules by refusing to adhere to them. Today at least I feel that maybe we all should opt out. Keep calm and opt out. Maybe it isn’t such a silly postcard after all.

Sometimes you need to fail in order to succeed

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A few days ago I found out that I didn’t get a job I applied for. For a while it seemed very promising and I was already mentally preparing to accept this job and considering the practicalities I needed to figure out in order to do that. But then I came second, so alas, no job.

Writing this I realize what a long way I have come. Not too long ago I wouldn’t have breathed a word to anyone that I was applying for a job much less announced globally that I didn’t get it like I’m doing now. I just wouldn’t have broadcasted my failure. Only it wasn’t a failure. It was actually a very good process for me. First of all it made me really think about what I want to do and what I can imagine myself doing. And I realized that I could actually imagine myself going back and working in an organization again. My own opting out and in experience continues to evolve, it is not static, and like so many people I have interviewed I also realize that the choices I made when I opted out weren’t forever. So that was good to really have a chance to think about my situation, my terms, and what I want to do. Also, although I would have been very happy to have gotten the job, I’m actually also very happy to be able to continue living the life I’m living right now the way I do. So what initially felt like a waste of energy since it didn’t really lead anywhere was actually quite meaningful. And besides, as an academic I deal with a lot of rejection all the time so in a way I’m kind of getting used to it. Scary as that may sound.

But this question of success and failure is interesting. I’ve decided to make a point of sharing my failures and rejections, because it’s important that people know that everyone experiences failures, and actually the people who are very successful usually are because they worked very hard and failed over and over until they succeeded. Their secret is they didn’t give up.

We have a very low tolerance for failure in our society, and organizations especially aren’t very forgiving, which is extremely unfortunate. The thing is, it is from our mistakes and failures that we learn and develop and if we’re terrified of making mistakes, and as a result maybe even getting laid off, we won’t ever dare do anything out of the ordinary or take any risks, which is bad both for personal and organizational development and learning. As inventor Regina Dugan says, “We can’t both fear failure and make amazing new things.”

But overcoming the fear of failure isn’t very easy in this day and age. Zygmunt Bauman talks about something he calls the fear of disposability – a fear of being expendable, of becoming redundant – which is a direct result of the constant flux that is our reality in this fast-changing economy. Organizations and individuals alike need to stay lean and flexible in order to survive the ever more competitive global market. Well, it’s a viscous circle if you ask me.

So what do we do about it? Well like so many other things, this too is organizationally driven. If organizations become more forgiving, they will help create a more forgiving culture, where we can be more accepting of failure. And not only that, I’m convinced that these very organizations will be the big winners in the long run, because people – their employees – will dare and have the space to be more creative, and they will make amazing things, as Dugan says. But in the meantime, I think we should just all become more forgiving as individuals, of ourselves and of each other. And we should be more open about sharing both successes and failures, and not just instagrammable versions of ourselves and our lives.

My favorite part

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One thing you have to realize when opting out and in, is that the lifestyle you dream about, and which you hopefully find a way to opt in to, isn’t going to be perfect. For years before opting out and in, I was very interested in people and what makes them tick, and I dreamed of being able to work in areas like psychology, social psychology, or sociology. And although this was what I secretly wanted to do, the path I chose after graduating from high school was quite different. My decision back then was based on a lot of factors other than what I was really interested in. But after years of dreaming and then gradually actually doing something about it, I am now a social scientist!

So this is my dream that I am living. Still, living my dream and working as a social scientist has its ups and downs. It’s not all rosy. It’s not all great. Sometimes it’s hard. It’s frustrating. And sometimes I have to do things that I don’t really like doing. But I also do things that I love and that I find absolutely fascinating. The important thing is that there are more good parts than bad; the balance needs to be in your favor.

But of all the things I do as a social scientist, there is one thing in particular that, hands down, is my absolute favorite. And that is interviewing people for my research.

When I worked on my PhD, I interviewed women about their opting out and in experiences, and right now I’m interviewing men about the same thing. I use a narrative approach to interviewing, and in practice that means that I really don’t have a lot of questions. I want my interviewees to talk freely about their experiences before, during, and after opting out. They get to decide what they want to tell me, in what order, and if there’s anything in particular that they want to focus on. If they’re worried what they’re telling my isn’t relevant or important enough, I quickly assure them that I am a sociologist, and that there is absolutely nothing they could say that wouldn’t be interesting to me, which is true. And it’s amazing, the stories they share with me are so rich; people who I have never met before and who I might never meet again. They talk openly and honestly and share their most personal thoughts and feelings with me, and I love hearing their stories. But more importantly what they’re giving me is a huge and valuable gift. Because they are willing to talk to me, I can actually do what it is that I am doing. And I am so grateful.

I just love the whole situation though. I say as little as possible in order to minimize my influence on the interviewee and his or her story. Often this is hard for me, partly because I’m a talkative one, but also because I recognize so much in what it is these people are talking about. It makes it hard not to turn the interview into a dialogue instead. I often want to share my experiences too, because I realize how much we actually have in common.

One thing that feels especially great about all of this is that my interviewees also seem to enjoy the interviews. For many it’s the first time they have really talked to anyone about their opting out and in experiences, and doing so gives them a chance to make sense of what it is they have gone through and why they made the decisions they did. Sometimes they tell me that the interview felt quite therapeutic, and often they thank me for the chance to talk about it, even though I am the one who should be thanking them. And that of course feels good, that they are also getting something out of it.

And it makes me think. We are all so busy going about our lives and making everything happen, that we rarely slow down long enough to really listen to people. I mean really hearing a person and not just hearing what we expect to hear or what we want to hear, which if you think about it is what often happens in regular conversation.

But in these interviews, I just sit quietly and I listen.

There is actually one person I know who does this in regular conversation: my father-in-law. When conversing with him there are very few interruptions. You take turns talking and when it’s your turn to talk he really listens and then he expects you to return the favor when it’s his turn to talk. The conversation is always good and interesting, it’s amazing how much you can learn when you really listen. But more than that, after having a conversation like this you feel seen and you feel heard. And that can really be a pretty great feeling.