Culture Club
I had a series of slightly strange conversations recently that got me thinking about how we treat each other in the workplace, and what assumptions we might make about how people come to work.
First: in a meeting the other day, a couple of colleagues made a joke about me asking, 4 months into my job, "what is a postdoctoral research fellow (PDRF)?". They got a laugh, and fair play it was funny. But the way it was delivered implied a level of prior knowledge - or that it was surprising I'd got the job considering my lack of awareness.
What is a PDRF? I get there are some commonalities across roles, but even in this last week I've spoken to people who are self-funded, research grant funded, institution funded, working on books, writing papers, doing funding applications, doing field work, working in science labs, making art, and more. Some people had to pitch projects to get the job; others had quite a clear remit for the project they'll be working on; some contracts are five years, some are one; some people are exactly doing the same job, but their job title is "research assistant" rather than PDRF, which is a case of institutional semantics. So, I don't think actually think it's a stupid question; other than the connecting thread of doing research after your PhD, everything else seems up for grabs.
Second incident: a colleague turned to me and asked if I did research. I replied - well, yeah, it's my job. And they said, "sure, but I mean…do you do research?". We went back and forth a few times, and I think the whole exchange left us both a bit flummoxed. It wasn't said in bad faith; I suspect the question really was about whether this was my first research project I'd worked on (although I never got clarification). But it left a strange taste in my mouth. What was funniest about this, was that it came almost immediately after a conversation about imposter syndrome. I was going to write a joke about "if I didn't have it before", but it's not funny, and I do, chronically, so take THAT, end of this paragraph.
Third incident: Later, another colleague mentioned how nice it is that we get paid to read, and there was a tacit assumption that everyone would share this view. I'll be real here: I don't like reading. I do it because I have to. It's part of my job, in the same way that filling in timesheets was part of previous jobs, or doing my taxes is part of being freelance. I understand why I have to do it, but I don't particularly enjoy it. To be clear - I'm talking about research literature here. I like reading novels. And, occasionally, there will be a really solid work-related something that I just vibe with (here's to you, Bernie De Koven). But generally, reading for work is not my happy place. Not my crappy place, but not my happy place. I like making things, trial and error, getting my hands dirty; I like practice-research, where doing informs the research. I learn best through play, and I get that this needs to be grounded in theory, but I take no joy in the reading end of things. Curiously, even writing this I feel like I have to justify myself.
This is not me having a moan about my colleagues. Individually, none of these incidents add up to much. But at the end of the day I found myself questioning the assumptions we make, and the impact that can have on the people and environments around us. Honestly, I felt pretty bummed out. What happens when we assume we know someone well enough to mock a question they've asked? Have we built a relationship that allows that yet? What knowledge or understanding do we assume people have, and what is the effect of those assumptions?
But also - what did I do to change that? Playful cultures - cultures where people feel comfortable enough to share their feelings, questions, reflections; to be themselves, and to be publicly playful - are built by all of us, together. What can we do to realise our own biases and assumptions? And what small, tiny acts of resistance (Harré et al, 2017) can we commit to challenge them? Perhaps there are ways of not feeling put out, but contributing to the conversation by CREATING - not just hoping for - a more playful work culture.
Or maybe I'll just write a blog post about it instead. Who's to say?
References
HARRé, N., GRANT, B. M., LOCKE, K. & STURM, S. 2017. The unviersity as an infinite game. The Australian Universities’ Review, 89.