A path to independence
S
ix paragraphs into the corporate newsletter, I learned that my job at a major energy company,
like those of more than 100 other earth scientists, was moving halfway across the country. It
would be a win for us, we were told—a chance to boost our careers by interacting with new
teams. I had just come off maternity leave and didn’t see it that way. Our young family loved
where we lived, and after 5 years at the company I had settled into a productive work routine.
Plus, my job had solved our family’s “two body problem.” I knew I’d need to find a new path.By Angela Hessler
ILLUSTRATION: ROBERT NEUBECKERBefore moving to industry, I’d held
an assistant professor position for
4 years. My teaching load had left
little time for research, and the fac-
ulty job was far from my spouse’s.
Working for the company offered
a solution. As a younger geologist
I had not dreamed about a career
in industry, but I enjoyed getting
back to research, tackling applied
problems, and interacting with my
industry colleagues.
I realized I should not get too
comfortable, however. Not long af-
ter my start date, it became clear
that the company expected us to
demonstrate a warriorlike enthusi-
asm for change. One manager rec-
ommended I write in my annual
review that I wanted to transfer
to other offices every 2 years, even
though I did not want that at all. So
the relocation announcement wasn’t a complete surprise.
Once I’d made the decision to quit, I found myself at a
fork in the road. As I saw it, I could apply for the few geo-
logy jobs in the area, none of which was a good fit—or I
could leave my scientific career behind. Both options made
me sad. I loved geology, and I was trained in something
I knew was of value. On the other hand, I didn’t want to
take a job that didn’t interest me. As I stared at these two
paths, up on my periphery came a third. Could I keep doing
research, I started to wonder, on my own?
I knew of groups that received grants to carry out re-
search outside academia. I contemplated whether I could
compete for some of that money, too—a path that would
enable me to continue to do what I love without any pres-
sure to move.
I decided to give it a try. But before I could apply for fund-
ing, I knew I had to start publishing again, something I’d
largely set aside during my time in industry. I started with a
low-hanging fruit, getting an old data set ready for publica-
tion. I soon ran up against the stigma of being “unaffiliated.”
During the submission process, my generic email addresswas rejected. I set up a nonprofit
organization and resubmitted using
a “.org” email address—that time
without issue.
After the paper came out, one
of my former industry colleagues
pointed me to a government pro-
gram that invests energy revenue
into research, which is how I got
my first grant. Soon I was back to
the hands-on study of rocks, exam-
ining them under a microscope I’d
borrowed from the state geological
bureau and sending samples to a
commercial lab for geochemical
analysis. For the first time in a long
while, I was being paid to answer
my own questions.
Setting out as an independent
researcher was tough at first, with
no guarantee of income. It has also
been challenging to navigate the
grant proposal requirements of many private foundations
and government entities, which can exclude small nonprofits
like mine. But over the years, I’ve been able to grow my
research portfolio and continue publishing. I’m lucky that
in my field, I can outsource some lab work and otherwise
carry out research without institutional resources. I’ve also
been fortunate to collaborate with researchers in industry
and academia who shared funding and insights.
On the home front, the flexibility of my position has had
its benefits. Our family relocated, on our own terms, taking
my work with us. And with three school-age kids, I have ap-
preciated the freedom to scale back my work during periods
of sickness or during summer vacations.
The disruption at my industry job, unwelcome at first,
propelled me in a new direction that has turned out to be
the most creative period of my career. There is always un-
certainty, and I might never declare victory, but at least I
am not running (and losing) someone else’s race. jAngela Hessler is the founder of the Deep Time Institute.
Send your career story to [email protected].“Could I keep doing research,
I started to wonder, on my own?”
1526 17 DECEMBER 2021 • VOL 374 ISSUE 6574 science.org SCIENCE
WORKING LIFE