Let me tell you about a terrible job interview I had a few years ago. I was nervous and excited, sitting in a corridor that smelt of floor cleaner, waiting for the professor to arrive and consider me for an academic post.
I’d already had plenty of failures in my hunt for employment, but I’d worked really, really hard for this one. I’d done exactly what the books said. I’d researched the lab and the researcher, read their work, bought a new shirt and polished my shoes.
Perhaps I’ll actually get this one, I thought. And although I was nervous about disclosing my depression, I felt hopeful – that is, until the interviewer arrived.
A small man in his 50s shuffled out of the door, chatting happily with a departing applicant. The applicant was a few years younger than me and seemed to be oozing confidence. When the professor saw me, his eyes narrowed, and he beckoned me into the room. I have no idea why he reacted negatively to me, but he barely said a word as he led me into his office.
The interview was humiliating. I answered most of the questions correctly, I thought, but the professor seemed determined to catch me out. He asked a complicated question about his research, for example, and seemed disappointed when I supplied the correct answer. He also asked whether I’d been “trouble” in previous posts.
The atmosphere was sour and I left feeling like I’d done something wrong. Things were so uncomfortable that I did not dare to disclose my depression.
I felt worthless
After I’d escaped from the university, I stood on the railway platform, waiting for my train. I genuinely thought about throwing myself in front of it. I felt worthlessand a failure. I knew I would have to pick myself up again and regather my enthusiasm – which was becoming ever more forced – for the next round of applications.
I’ve been looking for an academic job for about a decade now. I have had several other kinds of job during this time – from fitness instructor to further education lecturer – but none of these has felt like my vocation. I’ve made more than 100 applications for academic roles, but none has ever worked.
Not all of my job-hunting has been disastrous – even if it has been unsuccessful. I’ve had some relatively positive experiences, where interviewers have at least called me back and said that they’re sure that I will find a post somewhere soon, just not at their institution.
I’m still applying, but less frequently now. It takes some expense and so much effort to research and write out an application, prepare materials, travel to the institution and perform. I’ve begun to feel that my time is better spent on other things.
In the meantime, I’ve developed a writing career, publishing a book and a number of papers and articles. Independent scholarship has given me freedom, but my income is low and it’s hard to be taken seriously by those working within institutions. I have conducted my own research and scholarship, although it can be challenging outside of the academic loop.
But I have my doubts about working in academia now. An old tutor of mine has advised me not to on a number of occasions. He has warned me of an academic environment that is increasingly exploitative. He says many colleagues feel trapped by it. I have friends who have left academia after developing serious health problems. Institutional life, it seems, really can burn people out.
I can’t ignore these stories. As someone who suffers from depression, I need a measure of control over my work times – it is essential for me to have a strong work-life boundary to stay healthy. The stress of applying for jobs, and being rejected, does not help.
Out in the cold
On the surface, academic job selection may seem reasonable, but in practice, it can leave dedicated, eager and talented people out in the cold. We have to ask questions about the pressures shaping this process; about cronyism, politics and the demands of bureaucracy.
But acknowledging the human toll is also important. Job hunting is emotionally exhausting because competition is so fierce. The least interviewers could do is be wise to that, and treat candidates decently. This means maintaining an open and generous attitude to a candidate, even if they do not seem to have what is required.
We need to think about how institutions work, and the role of the scholar within them. If we want to make use of talent, we need to open universities up instead of treating them like fortresses with narrow gates. We could create a system of open scholarship where independent and institution-based academics work together, making bids for projects on the basis of merit rather than institutional origin.
This would eliminate the need for scholars to compete at interview for the privilege of working within an institution, and allow more flexibility for those who find it difficult to cope with the pressures of university life.
Spending time and effort on scholarship is surely preferable to the endless quest for those increasingly rare university posts.
Join the higher education network for more comment, analysis and job opportunities, direct to your inbox. Follow us on Twitter @gdnhighered. And if you have an idea for a story, please read our guidelines and email your pitch to us at highereducationnetwork@theguardian.com
