Perched on a stool in the sticky heat of Kota Kinabalu, Borneo, I had a decision to make. Two weeks prior, I had gone against the best advice of those closest to me and interviewed for a job back in academia. It had gone well, and I was being offered the position – a permanent Lectureship in Science, Technology, and Innovation Studies at the University of Edinburgh, my alma mater.
It had been over two years since I left the University to take a permanent research position at Baillie Gifford, a large investment firm focussed on growth companies. I was enjoying my time there. I had grown fond of my team and found stimulation in trying to understand the many factors that shape the fate of companies. But I was also growing restless. In the evenings and weekends, to my partner Hayley’s bewilderment, I was again working on academic topics and problems. For whatever reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d left something important unfinished. And once a thought like that gets into your head, well, it’ll eat away at you.
I’d been wrestling with the decision for the past few days. Keen not to ruin our time in Borneo, I’d tried not to voice my struggles to Hayley. Nursing a beer that had long equilibrated with the ~35°C air, she knew something was up.
She probed:“How’s the pay?”
I shrugged. “About half of what I’m making now.”
This didn’t impress her.
“And the people?”
“Good people,” I said.
“But academics, right?”
I nodded. She rolled her eyes.
We ordered another round and sat quietly, watching the sunset shift the sky from blue to orange, pink, and red. The bay of Kota Kinabalu looks out over a series of small islands, each outlined by white sands and filled with the rich greens and browns of rainforest. This idyllic view was in stark contrast to Kota Kinabalu’s waterfront – a bustling strip of bars and restaurants that seemed to be moonlighting as a runway lighting system for incoming planes. A small airport sat just a few miles away at the edge of the boardwalk, providing us with the rather unique experience of dining on a landing strip. Every half-hour or so, the scream of jet engines drowned out the hum of chatter, the clink of glasses, and the questionable tribute band playing outside one of the bars. A place very much caught between two worlds.
After a while, Hayley started her probing again:
“What about the hours?”
“Thirty-five... on paper.”
She winced. “Right, so you’d be doing 50+ for half the pay.”
“It’ll be different this time,” I said, sheepishly.
And then she gave me the kind of resigned, knowing look that only someone who loves you – despite your failings and history of bad decisions – can give.
“You’re going back, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“You’re an idiot, you do know that?”
I smiled.
I accepted the position the next day.
But why? As some of you will know, I’ve been critical of parts of academia. I’m well aware of its many failings, so it wasn’t a decision made in ignorance. Quite the opposite. I felt, and still feel, that the problems in academia are my problems, and that academia is important and valuable enough for those problems to really matter.
I returned from Borneo in September 2023, worked at Baillie Gifford until the New Year, and have been in my new position at Edinburgh for about 10 months now. It been hectic, but I'm enjoying it.
Leng, R.I.
