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Because I was sinking.
“Talk to me, Jillian. What can I do?”
I willed myself to breathe. “My post-doc was all but a done deal,” I managed to get out. Breathe. Breathe. “I only needed the final contract. But this email says there isn’t a final contract. There isn’t a contract at all.”
“You said it was a mistake, right?” Adam now faced me, his hands at either side of my arms. “Can you call the professor directly? Do they let you do that?”
Yes, his suggestion sounded reasonable. Entirely reasonable. But the rest of the email didn’t make the solution sound any more reasonable.
“The email is actually from the professor I’m working under.” My eyes glazed over as reality ground into me. “She said there’s no contract because there’s no post-doc. It’s just…gone.”
12
Adam
The look of absolute devastation on Jillian’s face nearly split me in two.
For my own understanding, I asked if I could see the email. Maybe I could decipher something she wasn’t seeing. Yeah right, like that would happen, but I couldn’t stand seeing her this upset.
The research professor she’d intended to work with had messaged that the funding fell through. The position no longer existed. She was profusely sorry. It was signed Dr. Angela Pryzbrewski.
I handed the phone back. “How can they do this to you?”
She paced the deck, muttering to herself and generally looking anguished. “I’m so stupid. So stupid. Of course it wasn’t a guarantee. I didn’t even have a contract. I planned my whole life around this.”
“Is this standard procedure for a university? Because it’s garbage.”
She looked at me, tears pooling at the base of her eyes. I grew even more angry. Someone—something—was hurting Jillian and I was powerless to stop it.
“Not standard, but not unheard of.” She wiped at her eye. “These research positions are highly competitive and depend on grant funding. I can’t believe I never even questioned it could fall through. I adore Dr. Pryzbrewski. I was so excited to work with her these little research stars in my eyes clouded my thinking. I’m an idiot!”
“You’re not the idiot here.” I had half a mind to grab her phone and message the lady back. Couldn’t they divert money from football or something? “This is why I hate…” Never mind. My own sour attitude against higher education wouldn’t help. The professor likely felt terrible. It probably came as a blow to her research to lose the chance at employing someone as dedicated as Jillian.
I had no idea how her world operated, but there had to be something we could do. “Is there a chance to re-apply? Or…”
She sent me a slightly pitying look, but cleared it away quickly. “It’s not so simple, unfortunately. I’m at square one. All the letters behind my name and nothing to show for it.” Her face crumpled. She threw a hand across her mouth and rushed inside.
I wanted to go after her. Tell her of course her degrees meant something. Tell her she was amazing and she would conquer the whole dang world of academia. I couldn’t imagine working as hard as she had for so many years, to be so proud and excited only to have her dream shatter.
And it happened over email. She hadn’t even gotten the courtesy of a phone call.
I kept a distance as I headed inside. The last thing she needed was some hovering dude who didn’t understand the depth of her problems. I clenched my fists, feeling the fury of helplessness.
The front door stood open with the screen door not fully shut. “Jillian?” I headed outside. Jillian sat in her car. Crying.
This was no good. I couldn’t let her blame herself for this.
Before I could knock at the window, she swung the door open. “I forgot my car won’t start.” She sniffled and wiped her eye again, this time across a tear-stained cheek. “And I couldn’t leave anyway because all my stuff is locked in a room with a bat and its bat scat.”
All that checked out. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled again. “My roommate moved out. I planned to live alone working in my new research career. I renewed my lease and everything. I don’t know how I’m going to afford it, or what I’ll do. I thought I had everything I wanted in place and now it all fell apart.” She pressed her lips together, seeming to push back a new emotional burst. She heaved a breath and let it out. “What about my mentor students? What about my dog?”
“Wait—do you have a dog?”
“No, the dog I was going to adopt!”
Oh, this was just the worst. I hated every second watching her in turmoil.
