Nope, I try to convince myself otherwise. My ability to read properly must have magically vanished overnight. But when I skim over the email again, I’m quickly proven wrong.
Good morning Vivienne,
I hope this email finds you well.
I am writing to inform you of a recent development that impacts the research projects of all students in the Anderson lab. A few days ago, I was notified that we’d lost the grant funding for the majority of our research activities. In light of this news, major cutbacks will be necessary. The next scheduled lab meeting will be dedicated to discussing the implications of this for purchasing reagents, solvents, and other materials needed.
In the meantime, I encourage you to continue your research with the same dedication and enthusiasm you have consistently demonstrated. I’ll be around to visit the lab late in the afternoon to answer any questions, but if you don’t catch me, feel free to email or knock on my office door.
Best regards,
Patrick Anderson
I bury my face in my hands, nose prickling as tears press hot against my lashes.
Too much is happening at once—too many stressors and anxieties to think straight. But one thing is clear—I can safely kiss my plans of finishing my current project by the end of the year goodbye.
Forget about the challenges associated with research itself. If there’s no money, you’re not getting anywhere. Reagents are expensive. Publishing in journals costs thousands. And don’t even get me started on conferences.
“We’re so fucked.”
The words are taken right out of my mouth.
I turn at the voice of our postdoc Arjun, watching him enter the office alongside Nora.
“Tell me about it.” She lets out a weighty breath. “While I’d like to say we’ll be fine, I can already feel the effects. Dr. Anderson cut our dry ice order by over half this week. I wasn’t even able to finish rotovapping the fractions to my column before we ran out.”
Arjun stops in his tracks, eyes wide, and the panic plain on his faceas he turns to look at his assigned undergrad. “Say you swear. This isn’t funny.”
“That isn’t even the worst part!” she continues, hands thrown in the air in exasperation. “When I asked if we could order more of the DOTA-NHS ester, he told me we couldn’t afford it, and I’d either have to make it myself or find an alternative…But I can’t realistically do either of those things!”
Nora is right on that regard.
Asingle gramof that compound costs around a thousand dollars. And if you’re running a reaction on a marginally larger scale or going at it with repeated attempts to get one to work, you run out of such a small quantity quickly. Synthesizing it was also difficult, as selective activation of DOTA is tricky.
And the worst part is, I needed that reagent for the next step in my reaction scheme.
Fuck. My. Life.
“You okay over there, Vivienne?”
I freeze, my head slowly turning back when my presence in this office is made known.
Sometimes I wish I could blend into the background, camouflage like a chameleon, so no one notices me. This is definitely one of those times. I’m spiraling, and the last thing I want is anyone talking to me—especiallyhim.
“Yup! All good over here!” I spike some extra enthusiasm in my voice in the hopes of being let off the hook. But this is Arjun we’re talking about. There’s no such thing where he’s concerned.
“You sure about that? Last time I checked, people don’t swear their life away over a blank screen.”
My head snaps back to my laptop to find the screen indeed black.
I exhale deeply, shoulders slumping as I spin in my chair to face them. “What the heck are we supposed to do now? I used to be at peace with being a struggling grad student because my PI had money, but now we’re broke on both accounts!”
Nora’s eyes soften with understanding. “It’s okay, Vivienne. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
She always answers positively, but the bittersweet smile on her face tells a different story—she’s panicking too.
“I mean, Nora and I are nearing the completion of our project, so I’m sure we’ll be fine. But you, Vivienne? I will say, it’s quite unfortunate,” Arjun chimes in, concerned with his fingernails.
