homage to producers
"He's a producer"
You know me. I can see you eyeing me as the P.I. gives me a tour of the lab. The P.I.? Yeah–that’s the individual slobbering at the thought of my joining the lab. That’s right…you know who I am. I’m a producer. I don’t talk much–I let my work ethic do the talking–but when I do talk, true I often speak with an accent. I often take the shape of an international graduate student or post-doc but in truth I am a machine–made of twisted steel–sent back in time to rock your lab’s world. Don’t confuse me with my twin: the one-year-post-doc, who works as hard as I do, except towards getting a visa/green card/U.S. citizenship rather than lab work.
I sweat, eat, and breathe lab work. I’ve already finished 2 experiments by the time you stumble in at 11:00 in ”the morning” with your Starbucks mocha frappacino in-hand, and I’m still here when you leave for the evening. Lunch?!?!? What’s lunch? I’m even here when you come running back in the middle of the night because you left your PCR plate sitting out. Yes, I am the new standard in working hard around here. Remember how you could put off an experiment that your advisor asked about for a week or two because everyone else did the same? Those days are over. That’s not going to fly anymore Because I have those experiments done before you can even find your lab notebook under that pile of papers, catalogues, exposed films, reagents and half-eaten pack of powdered donuts on your desk.
But despite the fact that I make you look bad, you do love me. Yes, deep down you do. I’m a nice guy. I always have a smile on my face, and there’s really nothing bad about me. See?!?!! You can’t make an argument against that. And really, I don’t actively try to make you look bad. I really don’t! I work hard. You, on the other hand, work occasionally. You see: we just disagree on that one point and that’s not too bad. At least you have another person who knows nothing about college basketball for the lab NCAA March Madness pool: I pick the University of Alabama at Huntsville to win it all–the “Chargers”–they sound like winners.
So, brush the dust off your lab bench and pipetmen, put a smile on your face and get back to work–I mean real work, not just holding a Pipetman in your hand while talking to the person in the bay across from you. That’s right–there’s a new sheriff in town. I’m a producer.
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Everyone who’s spent some time in the lab knows what I’m talking about: the producer. I ask my buddies in the lab about new people who’ve joined since I’ve left, and when I hear, “he’s a producer,” that’s all that needs to be said. I wish I had been a producer during graduate school. Instead, I was the guy with a pack of half-eaten powdered donuts on my desk in the lab. So sad…
