NCh 09/25 The Chewing Gum Recession

In a workshop on networking, we first look at profiles on professional social media platforms such as LinkedIn. Afterwards, I want to know what other networking activities the participants engage in. Finally, I ask where they would like to progress after completing their PhD or postdoc. Yannis speaks up: “I would like to move straight into the chemical industry after completing my PhD.”

Yannis has described his experience to date in a clear and comprehensible way on his LinkedIn profile. He attends conferences recommended by his supervisor. There, he presents the results of his research to an expert audience.

“You show what you have done so far, but not where you would like to progress,” I say. And he is not an isolated case. Most of the participants take the same approach as he does.

On social media and in our application documents, we can describe ourselves in a way that makes us relevant and discoverable to the networking contacts and employers we want to reach. An open-to-work badge above the profile picture is not enough. Here is an example: Sarah wanted to move into industry after a long postdoc. During her postdoc, she carried out preparatory work for a spin-off company for her supervisor. Instead of leaving out this experience, which she considered unsuccessful, she could describe it on her CV for applications and on social media as follows: “Feasibility study for a spin-off company from Professor Mayer’s working group”. Her profile immediately shows that she is scientifically capable. However, industrial employers are more interested in whether she can also function in a non-academic environment, and they will appreciate it if Sarah gives these experiences more prominence.

You also have freedom in how you carry out activities within your network. Are you interested in collaborations with industry? Then look for conferences or other networking events where delegates from academia and industry meet. Do you want to meet someone specific there? Then look in advance for overlaps with other delegates. Do you share interests with your target contact that you could use as starting points for a conversation? Is there someone in your network who could put you in touch with them?

With a little thought, preparation and creativity, you can actively shape the development of your network and align it with your personal goals.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Hey Dad, do you know the stupidest statement of all time?” one of my sons asks me over dinner. Before I can voice my guesses, he blurts out: “100 is a large number.” He acknowledges my bewildered expression with a triumphant grin. I reply: “If I may hazard a guess, I suspect it isn’t the stupidest statement in the world. However, it is one of the most common among really stupid statements.”

On the afternoon before this conversation, I gave feedback on a presentation by a scientist at a renowned pharmaceutical company. When we came to the inevitable wow slide in the company’s self-presentation, I thought: “Not again!” Why? The presentation was aimed at graduates whose interest in the company was to be sparked. The slide contained a series of large numbers without any context, such as: “€5 billion research budget”. Although this amount sounds huge, it does not mean anything at first. During our consultation, we worked out how to bring this number to life. What percentage of turnover is invested in research, and how does this percentage compare with that of the competition? With this information, even non-experts can make sense of it.

With his childlike naivety—or his intuitive grasp—my son had recognised that numbers without context are meaningless. This is evident in all areas of life. For example, 100,000 birds die in Germany every year in collisions with wind turbines. That sounds like a lot, but estimates suggest that house cats kill a thousand times more birds. And they do not contribute to the energy transition.

When applying for a job, the private sector in particular loves it when you express your value in numbers. Here, you should consider who will be reading your application and, when in doubt, provide more context. Just imagine that a twelve-year-old were looking over your shoulder while you were writing your CV: if you describe how your ideas enabled you to speed up processes in a project by two months, you will pass the test. “Sale of goods worth €10 million”, on the other hand, would not.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Before we start looking for a specific position, we first need to analyse ourselves,” I begin the topic of introspection at a careers workshop. Some participants look curious, others less so. “At 30, do I really need an extensive bout of navel-gazing?” Ezra asks with a smile.

At another workshop, Oskar stated right at the beginning: “I know what I want to do: I want to become a patent attorney.” When asked, he explained that he enjoyed intellectual challenges and precise use of language – qualities that aligned well with the requirements of a patent attorney. During the workshop, however, his introspection revealed that he thought best when discussing things with colleagues. Patent attorneys naturally exchange ideas with one another too, but this accounts for only a small part of their working time. The rest is spent alone. Oskar had to reconsider whether he was suited to his apparent dream profession.

When scientists take a long time to find their first job, it is not because of a weak application or a shy demeanour at interview. Instead, it is almost always because they have not reflected on their own goals and strengths.

Through this kind of introspection, you become aware of your own wishes. We often adopt the ideas of charismatic people whose judgement we accept uncritically. But then we follow their vision, not our own.

Once you are clear about what you want, you can describe your dedication to the position more convincingly. Without this clarity, many covering letters sound as though ChatGPT has reformulated the requirements from the job advertisement into an application letter.

The suggestions we receive from the outside world have the disadvantage of leading us down well-trodden standard paths. But what happens if you apply for the same kinds of positions, in the same organisations and the same places as most of your competitors? That’s right. You will find it difficult to stand out in this overcrowded part of the job market.

Carrying out a self-analysis before applying is neither navel-gazing nor a make-work exercise for underemployed workshop leaders. It is a crucial step in aligning your job search with your own wishes and strengths.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a coaching session, I am sitting opposite Magda, who is about to take on a position as production manager. She tells me about the forthcoming negotiation with her boss: “She is a tough person, and I don’t think she will give in.” Magda’s move into production would mean a change to her employment contract, as she would also have to come in at night in emergencies. In return, Magda would like to work from home one day a week – not the easiest starting point.

I show her some of the low points of the recent rail strikes. Rail CEO Weselsky began the escalation with vulgar insults. The employers’ side refused to begin negotiations before the old collective agreement expired – a painful delay for employees following the wave of inflation. The employees’ side, meanwhile, did not want to negotiate behind closed doors, which made mutual concessions more difficult.

“Even though you do not have to expect any insults in your case, it would be interesting to understand why your boss is acting so tough,” I begin applying this to Magda’s situation. She thinks for a moment and then says: “Management is putting enormous pressure on her, and the HR department is generally sceptical about working from home.” I notice that Magda has chosen different words from those she used at the beginning, namely “difficult environment” instead of “tough person”. Putting yourself in the other person’s shoes means focusing on their behaviour rather than supposed character flaws.

By starting negotiations early, Deutsche Bahn AG could have accommodated the employees’ side without weakening its own negotiating position. “Is there anything you could give your boss without it hurting you?” I ask Magda. She nods. “Of course I would agree to the contract change if I took on responsibility in production, but not for nothing.” I continue: “And the other way round: would there be any advantages for your boss if you worked from home occasionally?” “Certainly. Production is like a henhouse; I can’t work quietly there when, for example, I have to write a report. It’s much easier to do that at home.”

The negotiation strategy now seems clear: Magda will first speak to her boss alone. She will ask what Management expects of her. Then the two of them will consider together how they can achieve a win-win situation, which will then be presented to the HR department as an overall package.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In an application workshop, I demonstrate the classic opening of a job interview with Faye, an American: “Tell me a bit about yourself.” She responds without hesitation: in 60 seconds, we learn the highlights of her educational background, her motivation for applying, and the value she would bring to the fictional employer. The other participants look impressed, but also a little concerned. Andreas sums up his thoughts: “If we were competing for the same position, I’d be out of the running – I could never convince the employer so effectively.”

Faye has done a good job. In the USA, such brief self-introductions are part of the school curriculum – no wonder she delivers hers so fluently. Nevertheless, the other candidates in the fictional situation would not yet be out of the running.

Faye presented herself in her native language; she was playing at home. This is both a blessing and a curse. We are all more relaxed when we are allowed to speak the language we grew up with. Native speakers have to expend less mental energy finding the right words. Speaking very fluently can, however, also mean that the tongue is faster than the mind.1) In discussions, this can result in impulsive (re)actions, and in a lecture, an excessively fast speaking rate. Having to find your words can therefore actually be an advantage. This is usually the case when you express yourself in a foreign language.

I ask the group: “Did you understand everything Faye said?” “Her English is, of course, very good,” Felix replies. “Nevertheless, I find it easier to understand the English of someone who is not a native speaker.” During the last coffee break, he had been talking to Andreas, who comes from Lower Bavaria – his dialect was difficult for Felix, a native of Flensburg, to understand. By contrast, Andreas’s strong German accent when he speaks English may not sound pleasant, but it is very easy to understand.

So speaking in a foreign language need not be a disadvantage for you: a more laborious but potentially more careful choice of words, and perhaps even better comprehensibility, can work in your favour.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Clara is over the moon: a top firm offers her a position as a trainee patent attorney. However, the salary in the draft contract is below the usual market rate – Clara is puzzled. Nevertheless, two days later she writes to the HR manager to say that she would be happy to accept the position. Who knows whether such an opportunity will come up again? The HR manager’s reply floors Clara: “We do not wish to offer you a position. The document sent to you was merely a draft contract for your perusal, without our signature.” When Clara asks why she is suddenly no longer wanted, she is told: “If you work for us, you have to charge clients at least 350 euros per hour. That requires a certain business mindset. If you cannot even ask for a market-rate salary for yourself, then you probably will not do so on behalf of the firm either.”

When it comes to something as important as an employment contract, you should always ensure that it is in the correct written form. That was Clara’s practical error. In addition, she ignored a principle that applies throughout the entire application process – every step is a work sample. Standing up for a market-rate salary is not greed; it shows your future employer that you will represent their interests confidently.

We know the classic example of such hidden work samples from films: the eccentric porter is the first test of whether your manners are polite. I myself was put to the test when I was invited to an interview following a speculative application. When I wanted to know what kind of position we were actually discussing, I was told that this would only be discussed towards the end of the interview – a test of how I would deal with this uncertainty. Such tests occur at many different points. After all, of all types of interview questions, work samples provide the employer with the most information.

Does the employer call you without warning to clarify a few key points about your application? Simply ask yourself how you should respond in a similar situation in your new position. This reduces the stress and makes it clear which tactic would be the right one. A good strategy: apologise for being unavailable and arrange a time when you can speak without interruption.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Chemists do PhDs! If you don’t like it, drop out!” Students in their first semester are still greeted with words like these. Is this still appropriate? Twenty-five years after the Bologna reform was signed, have Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in chemistry still not become established as qualifications for professional employment?

In Germany, the proportion of chemistry graduates going on to do a PhD was 85 per cent in 2023. Anyone seeking to enter the profession with a Bachelor’s or Master’s degree is therefore still swimming against the tide. Employers usually equate Bachelor’s graduates with chemical-technical assistants – despite their stronger theoretical foundation.

The only positions in the private sector for which a PhD is virtually indispensable are responsible roles in research. Nevertheless, in chemistry – unlike in almost all other disciplines – a PhD is often accepted as a given. Yet with a Master’s degree and four years’ experience in industry, they are at least as well qualified for most positions as a newly qualified PhD.

So how can you get a foot in the door without a PhD? One might think it is a classic chicken-and-egg situation. However, the labour market is currently shifting: the shortage of skilled workers that has long been lamented across the country is only now making itself felt in chemistry, owing to the high number of students. Companies willing to break with traditions surrounding PhDs can be expected to compete more strongly with academic supervisors for Master’s graduates. First-year students will then increasingly hear: “We hope that you will stay with us to do a PhD after your studies.”

If you want to enter the profession straight after your Bachelor’s degree, let your manager know that you would like to take on tasks beyond everyday laboratory work and are prepared to undertake further training for this purpose.

For entering the profession directly after your Master’s degree, you should be aware that employers in Germany traditionally like to present themselves as elitist in job advertisements. So do not take everything literally. If you explain why you already have the necessary qualifications, you show that you understand which attributes and qualities matter in everyday professional life. This is a good practical demonstration of your ability to research information.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

When I was still active in the laboratory, one morning I found a note above a colleague’s laboratory bench: “If you touch my glassware, I will break your fingers. Sincerely, Czeslaw.”

I like using this example as an introduction to the topic of “direct and indirect communication”. Direct communication is clear, but can be perceived as harsh. Indirect communication, on the other hand, hides the actual message behind politeness and is therefore difficult to understand.

In a workshop, we discussed a particularly difficult case: How do you tell a colleague that they have a noticeable body odour? Sascha tentatively approaches the challenge. “You may not have noticed, but there’s a bit of a smell in your office. Perhaps it’s coming from the ventilation system?” Renata starts laughing: “In other words, you stink like the dead rat they found in the ventilation shaft the other day?”

Sascha’s indirect approach was intended to help the recipient save face. Unintentionally, however, it made the problem seem bigger than it was – a good example of the complexity of indirect communication.

Daniel speaks up. “My professor recently only wanted to offer a tip, but it went badly wrong: ‘Perhaps the use of deodorant is uncommon in your culture.’ Unsurprisingly, many people found this racist.”

“Do you know how I came across the topic of body odour?” I ask the group. “I was the person who smelled. I had to take strong medication for two weeks, but I was still able to work.” I explain how a colleague took me aside and compassionately asked me whether everything was all right, as he had never noticed my body odour before. “I was aware of the problem, but not of its extent. I was infinitely grateful to my colleague for taking on the unpleasant task of giving me this well-intentioned hint.”

There is no right or wrong when choosing between direct and indirect communication. The idea that direct communication necessarily goes hand in hand with rudeness is incorrect. My colleague was direct. He chose the right context: a confidential one-to-one conversation. He made me feel that his aim was to protect me from harm, not to put me down.

Our intention matters more than the packaging of our words.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a consultation, Laura confides in me about her problem with her current employer: “My company is currently receiving a lot of negative press. And there is at least a grain of truth in the allegations.” She talks about adventurous structures in tax havens, raw materials from sensitive natural areas, and marketing full of greenwashing.

Her working conditions are good: her colleagues form a well-functioning, warm-hearted team; her tasks are pleasantly challenging. Her manager actively advocates for her employees and their needs and development. At the same time, the company works with controversial methods and partners, as long as the statutory and regulatory provisions are complied with. This creates an inner conflict among employees: the company’s development runs counter to their own convictions. And Laura wonders: “Can I still stay with this company, or will it break me?” There is no general answer to this. One thing to consider is whether there are practical consequences if the employer acts contrary to one’s own morals. If the work is perceived as devoid of meaning or even destructive, in the worst case this can lead to burnout – without any overwork at all.

Even if your own ideals correspond to those of your employer, but the rest of society sees things differently, you are constantly exposed to nagging questions. Standing up for your convictions can be rewarding, but is often perceived as exhausting.

Moral conflicts can make it more difficult for employers to find suitable employees. As a result, salaries might either rise out of necessity, or the employer could be destabilised by such a long-term problem. You can consider similar issues in academia. Just under one-fifth of third-party funding comes from industry, which can impose conditions as a source of funding. Scientific independence is central to researchers. Moreover, it is easier to recruit doctoral researchers and postdocs if one’s own research is perceived as beneficial.

Moral considerations are always deeply personal. Do not put them aside; instead, ask yourself: At this employer, is it not only the development perspective that fits, but also the moral values?

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a careers workshop, Malaika talks about her move to Germany. “I was really worried about moving to a small town like Neuburg. But I was pleasantly surprised: the town is very young, actually rather like a large university campus. The population is very international, and I settled in quickly.”

Sometimes a place’s demographics can help you get a sense of whether you might fit in: age structure, average level of education, the population’s origins and even voting behaviour can provide useful insights.

“Can we apply similar considerations to prospective employers?”, I ask the group. “Well, I wouldn’t join the Betzler working group,” says Tim. “He has never had any international PhD students; most of them even come from our town. I find that a little provincial.” “Could it be a warning sign if the group is very international?”, I want to know. Stefan replies: “Hardly anyone who studied here applies to Professor Schulke. She has a reputation for being extremely demanding, which only the locals know about.”

In industry, it also matters how long employees stay. A high turnover suggests an unpleasant working environment. Moreover, little knowledge is built up due to the lack of continuity. You will learn less in such a company than from employers where staff stay longer. If employees remain with an employer for a long time, three cases need to be distinguished:

Employee loyalty, which the employer earns through good leadership and workplace culture. Does this make it a rigid environment? – Only if employees rarely move between positions within the organisation.

Dead end. A small number of positions have no logical connection to other areas if you want or need to change direction. This is not the case in industry, but there are positions in public authorities or as a teacher from which it is difficult to move on.

Golden cage. Some positions are so well paid that changing jobs almost always means taking a significant pay cut. Once your life has become geared towards higher regular expenses, adjusting can be painful. Positions in patent law and company Management fall into this category.

Neither internationality nor length of service with a company is, by itself, enough to form a judgement. However, if you notice a marked deviation towards either extreme, take it as a warning sign. You can obtain these indications quite easily by looking at profiles on professional social media such as LinkedIn.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Karl is nearing the end of his PhD and has applied for a position advertised for Master’s graduates without professional experience. “Why do you think this is a suitable position for you?” I want to know. “At such a top employer, I thought I would have a better chance with a position aimed at less qualified applicants.”

About half of the participants in our workshop think Karl could succeed with this tactic. Nevertheless, there are objections: “Wouldn’t they still have to pay you a PhD salary?” asks Maurice. “And would you be an attractive candidate at all?” Julia enquires.

Being overqualified reduces Karl’s attractiveness to the employer rather than increasing it. The question will arise: Will Karl become bored after a few months and leave the company? In that case, the entire recruitment and induction process might prove to have been in vain. The employer will certainly also wonder whether the candidate is an anxious person.

The shortage of skilled workers has now reached the chemical industry. For most applicants, therefore, there is no reason to undersell themselves. Only in a few exceptional cases can applying for a position at a lower level make sense: in the event of a career break, relocation from abroad, or if – apart from the level of qualification – the position is an exceptionally good fit for you.

Applications from overqualified candidates are very difficult to write. How do you reassure the employer that you will not leave again quickly, while at the same time being perceived as suitably ambitious? Show what appeals to you about the position and what you can still learn despite being overqualified. How does this fit with your professional decisions to date? Can you create the impression of an employee who is happy to carry out simpler tasks instead of making decisions and taking the initiative, and who nevertheless – or precisely because of this – provides valuable service to the team? Outline a growth perspective for your professional future that fits your past and shows the employer that you will enjoy filling the position for at least some time.

Incidentally, whether the employer has to pay you according to your qualifications depends on whether they are bound by a collective agreement. This is therefore generally only the case with larger companies; at smaller ones, it is a matter for negotiation.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a consultation with a doctoral researcher who was in the application phase, we discussed questions that might come up in an interview: “Given your profile, I can well imagine that you might be asked whether you could see yourself working in a different area.” As characteristically straightforward as ever, she replied: “I want to work on the simulation of catalysts, ideally at the interface between academia and a small company.” I pause, and we both have to laugh. “OK, I suppose that earns me extra points for ‘not flexible’,” she concludes with a grin.

With questions like this, employers want to see that your idea of your own professional future is not too rigid – but at the same time, that you know what you want. If you say that you are open to absolutely anything just to get a foot in the door with this employer, they will perceive you as desperate.

My conversation partner concentrates and makes a second attempt. “At the beginning of my doctoral research, I worked in the laboratory, which I enjoyed. I think it is very important to stay in contact with colleagues working experimentally. After all, we simulate their experiments.” Recently, she says, she had popped into the lab again to speak to a colleague. “He showed me a transition-metal alloy that had a golden sheen. I had expected it to be silver in colour and learnt during our conversation that the colour can be explained by relativistic effects.” A crucial piece of information for her: “That was important for my simulations – if these effects are omitted, my models are no longer accurate. I could certainly imagine moving closer to the laboratory again in the future.”

I am amazed. This answer is better than the first in many respects: the doctoral researcher explains her interest in simulation and, at the same time, indicates the directions in which her interests could plausibly develop in the future. She does this using a real and easy-to-follow example that presents her as an interested and self-critical scientist.

If you want to explain something, it is easier for your listeners to understand if you begin with a specific example. You can then use it as the basis for drawing general conclusions.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“How long can I postpone deciding between an industrial and an academic career?” asks doctoral researcher Iryna at a career workshop. Her refreshing directness expresses what quite a few others in the room are thinking too. “I think academic research is great, but I’m also very curious to find out what things are like in industry.”

There are some positions in which you can have a foot in both worlds at the same time. For example, you can do a PhD or postdoc in industry. You should clarify in advance whether you are allowed to publish, as this is not always the case. At higher career levels, there are the true stars who wear several hats at once. Think of the professor who sits on supervisory boards and raises funds through industrial collaborations. Their counterpart is the industrial scientific star for whom an endowed professorship is established.

A few decades ago, universities and higher education institutions were even further apart than they are today. This was, and still is, less pronounced in chemistry than in other disciplines. Today, both sides are making increasing efforts to work together. Both sides maintain offices whose main task is to act as a mouthpiece to the outside world and build connections.

Industry seeks to identify new products and techniques (technology scouting) and supports academic projects, for example by funding them.

At universities, it is not only professors who are involved in these collaborations. Many tasks in research management have now been professionalised in order to support such interactions: think, for example, of patent exploitation offices or start-up advisory services.

Technology parks are important catalysts for collaboration between universities and industry. University spin-offs often find their first home here. “Where would you place the Fraunhofer Institutes?” I conclude the topic. Not an easy question: Fraunhofer Institutes are public institutions, but they finance themselves largely through industrial funding for their contract research.

It is easier for you if you know early on where you feel professionally at home. But you may not have to say goodbye to either side at all. There are exciting opportunities for chemists in the area between academia and industry.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop, we analyse how we can take a lay audience on a journey through our research. “I understand that we shouldn’t throw technical terms around,” begins Max. “But I don’t feel comfortable replacing technical terms with metaphors. We’re not the Bild-Zeitung, after all.” Sam adds: “The God Particle instead of Higgs boson – that’s just sensationalist, without adding any value.”

Terms such as God Particle help to attract attention. But that is all the positive that can be said about them. Bad metaphors bring a lot of unwanted baggage on board: exaggeration, confusion or the discussion drifting into philosophical debates. If the Higgs boson is the God Particle, does that mean the proton comes from the Holy Spirit?

“What about Blueprint of Life for deoxyribonucleic acid?” Shixin interjects. That works better. It helps us understand how proteins are encoded in the DNA blueprint. Although more recent findings, such as epigenetic layers of information, are not captured by Blueprint of Life, that lies beyond the scope of a simple image.

Don’t be afraid to use figurative language. Some images are so powerful that they become part of everyday language. Robert Hooke introduced the term cell as a metaphor at the end of the 17th century, when he recognised structures under the microscope that reminded him of small rooms, “cella” in Latin. The optical wave has followed a similar path. Or think of the ecological footprint, invasive species, food chains or the greenhouse effect – all terms that have gradually moved from metaphor into everyday language.

If you develop your own images or comparisons and want to assess whether they are good or bad metaphors, you should ask yourself: Does a term merely roll easily off the tongue? Then it is a bad metaphor. If, on the other hand, an image helps to make a subject more accessible to your audience, then it is a good metaphor.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop on the topic “Your route into industry”, we discuss the advantages and disadvantages of future employers. “More money, more jobs, more opportunities,” Bertrand summarises the arguments in favour of large industry. “That’s a great starting point for our discussion,” I say in thanks. He looks at me as though his statement had already settled all the debates. More money is generally true. Large industrial companies pay according to the chemical industry pay agreement, which is generous following decades of negotiations and a constructive relationship between trade unions and employers: around €80,000 is paid to doctoral graduates starting their careers, and around €69,000 to those with a Master’s degree. Smaller companies pay at least 15 to 20 per cent less.

“More jobs?” I ask the group. “Per company, certainly, but looking at the economy as a whole, I doubt it,” Inge interjects. Indeed, start-ups and, in Germany especially, small and medium-sized enterprises are a driving force in the labour market. When it comes to opportunities, it depends on the sector. Bertrand reports from a summer school at a pharmaceutical giant that there are “trainee programmes, an in-house training academy, internal career mentors: I don’t know whether you can top that.” He is right.

Nevertheless, there is much to be said for smaller employers: they are less visible and therefore have to make an effort to find and retain employees. Many of them make up for their disadvantage compared with large industry through flexibility, ingenuity and external training opportunities.

However, with so many small and medium-sized enterprises, it is not easy to find the right employer. Professional and lobbying associations or technology parks can help with the search. Companies that have just secured public funding or venture capital will soon be interested in new employees – this is the time to submit a speculative application. Using information about small companies from patents, publications or newspaper articles, you can make an application to them more personal.

In large industry, you receive a higher salary and a well-known name on your CV. Apart from that, whether you prefer a large or a smaller company is a matter of taste.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Let’s talk about small talk.” The participants in the workshop on self-presentation pull faces. “Could you put your facial expressions into words?” I ask the group. “Well, I’m not thrilled that I have to engage in superficial chatter even at scientific conferences, which also seems to be crucial to my professional success,” Jens complains. “Sorry, it’s up to you whether you stick to platitudes or develop the conversation further,” Jenny replies. “I love the free interaction with strangers.” Irina, on the other hand, is afraid that she always talks nonsense.

We can clear up a few prejudices here. Firstly: Not everything a female scientist says has to be super-clever. “What brings you to this conference?” means nothing more than: “We can have a chat if you like, but we don’t have to.” Consider your efforts to start a conversation a service to those who do not dare to do so themselves. Secondly: The disproportionate importance of networking in our professional lives neither undermines meritocracy nor devalues the many years of study. Your core scientific qualifications are the foundation of your Career. To score points, however, you need a broader range of skills.

The basic rules of small talk are remarkably simple. Don’t start negatively. Nobody is interested in the fact that you dislike the weather, the conference coffee or the delayed regional train. Nor should you enter a conversation with preconceived assumptions. “You must be attending this conference series for the first time; I’ve never seen you before” is particularly embarrassing when it turns out that the person you are speaking to is one of the conference organisers.

Approach it playfully and set yourself a randomly chosen goal. For example, try to find out whether the person you are speaking to is a biochemist, an analytical chemist or a synthetic chemist. It does not matter whether you succeed. The game forces you to take the first step. If you enter the conversation with open questions, you let the other person talk and give them the opportunity to help shape the conversation.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“I already get terribly nervous when giving presentations,” Simon admits. “In job interviews, I feel even more exposed. What I find worst is the small talk at the beginning,” he sums up his fears.

Indeed, the supposedly relaxed parts of a job interview can seem frightening to some people. Fortunately, we can tackle this stage fright. “Right, then let’s try the easier situation first: the presentation,” I suggest. “Please come to the front of the group and show us the beginning of your last presentation.” Simon immediately starts speaking as he rises from his chair: “Thanks for inviting me to this conference. My talk is about …”

Most people feel the same way as Simon in situations that make them nervous. Speakers want to get it over with quickly and therefore start speaking too soon. In a presentation, this creates a hectic beginning – for themselves and for the audience. The speakers are out of breath when they begin and have to manage several things at once: find a good place to speak from, deal with the technology and establish contact with the audience. Such a beginning confuses the audience: is this already part of the presentation?

In the workshop, we practise these first few seconds of a presentation. Entering the stage, finding a place, looking around the room. At this point, we pause for a moment, breathe in, enjoy the friendly faces and only then begin speaking, once we and the audience are ready. Stage fright often disappears when the beginning of the talk has been practised thoroughly.

During small talk before a job interview, we also feel a certain sense of haste, want to say something relevant quickly and get tongue-tied. Of course, unlike in our exercise, you will not stand silently in front of the other person for several seconds, but you should give yourself time to take a breath.

“Please don’t think that you have to share groundbreaking insights during the small talk,” I conclude the discussion. Small talk is a warm-up exercise for both sides. A “Thank you, the journey was pleasant” accompanied by a relaxed smile is enough. If you then think of something else pleasant to say, even better.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop for prospective group leaders, we address the subject of third-party funding. Collaborations with industry have a long history in chemistry and are hardly considered suspect in Germany. If research freedom is not restricted too much, most selection committees regard industrial funding in the same way as other third-party funding.

“I’m currently negotiating a collaboration with a company,” Jeff reports. “But I’m really not sure whether it’s ethically sound,” he shares his concerns. “What kind of research would you like to conduct with industry?” I ask. “It’s about further developing a detector that the company incorporates into its instruments,” he explains. After a few questions from the group, we reach a reassuring conclusion: we found no ethical problems with Jeff’s collaboration. If successful, a company will be able to offer instruments with higher resolution, which will please users.

We think further together. Are there research collaborations that are morally more complex than purely technical development? “Smoking,” Rachel suggests. Her comment has a kernel of truth. In the past, researchers were bought off to sow doubts about the harmfulness of tobacco smoke, certain medicines, sugar, DDT, alcohol or opiates. This still happens today: the topics are new, but the tactics are the same. The scientific consensus is portrayed as doubtful, unnecessary studies delay regulations or bans, and the problems involved in switching to clean alternatives are exaggerated.

A clear line emerges in our discussion: most people regard purely technical developments as ethically unproblematic. The academic scientist as an evaluator, on the other hand, raises questions.

Potential problems must therefore be addressed before the collaboration begins. Scientists can review collaboration and confidentiality agreements with the support of increasingly professionalised departments at universities: Is the desired outcome already predetermined by the study design? Are the results used selectively, depending on what the answer is? And most importantly: Is the scientist being gagged? If you answer these questions in advance, industrial collaborations are an interesting way of diversifying third-party funding.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

During a workshop on networking, two doctoral researchers are amused by an email during the coffee break. “Dear Prof. Coal Research, I would like to pursue a PhD at the institute of Schüth.” When the workshop resumes, I refer to this email: “When you write to someone you do not yet know, how do you do it so that you are heard?” Tim, who spent the rest of the coffee break showing the email around, points to his phone: “Definitely not like that.”

Every email begins with the most important, because most visible, part: the subject line. The prevailing view is that this is where you should immediately state the reason for making contact. That is indeed important, but imagine that the subject line reads: “Postdoc in your working group.” It is quite possible that this will make you one of many and that your email will initially end up on the “Read when I have time” pile. If you can establish a personal connection, you should mention it in the subject line, for example: “Recommendation from Dr. Gisdakis.” If the recipient knows Dr. Gisdakis, they will read the email promptly.

In some cases, it may be appropriate to copy a contact person in, while in others it may not. This makes your message somewhat more personal and creates transparency. However, if you make several enquiries through the same contact person, you should ensure that their inbox does not become full.
Next comes a polite salutation. This may sound obvious. But there are enough counterexamples: emails with the recipient’s name wrong or misspelt. The “why” should finally appear in the first sentence of your email, in one or two short sentences. In the next sentence, mention the preparatory work you have done. Regard the brevity of your introduction, and of the email as a whole, as a work sample: will dealing with you be time-consuming, or will it be a well-prepared, efficient interaction? People who waffle generally do so both in writing and in speech.

Close the email, which should consist of five sentences in total, with your specific request. This point may also seem trivial, yet scientists in particular often assume that their readership can draw this conclusion themselves.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a career workshop, we discuss how personal values influence career choices. The question of whether idealism can or even must be a selection criterion provokes heated reactions. “I wouldn’t want to work on marginal improvements to lifestyle products for all the money in the world,” Rodrigo declares. “Well, if you work for an NGO, you’ll just have to stay living in a house share,” Karsten replies sarcastically. “Is that really the case?” Frederieke asks. “The more idealistic a job is, the worse it is paid?”

As so often, the answer is yes and no. The best-paid jobs are where a lot of money is made, for example at large corporations. These organisations aim to make as much money as possible; for public limited companies, this is even an obligation. Does that make these jobs less idealistic? Certainly not always. If working there helps to make processes more efficient and therefore usually more sustainable, that can very well be a positive contribution.

Sometimes chemists can influence the subject they work on. One lever is the shortage of skilled workers, which is slowly reaching the life sciences and chemistry. Their labour fills a gap. You have the power to choose which employer you work for: improving shampoos at X or switching to sustainable raw material sources at Y.

Non-governmental organisations generally have less money than corporations and are bound by their statutes not to pay excessive salaries. That does not mean, however, that all activities in the non-profit sector are poorly paid. Salaries in international organisations can certainly compete with those in industry.

“With a degree in chemistry, you are in a privileged position,” I conclude the discussion. Even moderate salaries allow you to move out of a house share and start a family. Without financial hardship, you can decide where and how you would like to work. You can make a difference on socially relevant issues through your career choice and your commitment at work.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Of course science communication is important,” says Wolfgang, a participant in a Career workshop. “But as a chemist, I’m paid to solve problems. Communication is handled – at least in a large corporation – by the PR department.”

Are we paid to do things or to talk about them, or do we need to be able to do both? Is science communication a separate profession for people who take this task away from the problem-solvers? Or something that is part of every scientist’s daily work?

In all professions, we need to be able to communicate, always adapting our communication to the situation at hand. This also applies to those whose job title does not explicitly mention it.

Communicating with scientists in your own specialist field at university is only one part of the whole: At specialist conferences, you need to make a good impression. Your publications are assessed by a small circle within your particular niche. When applying for third-party funding, your readership is already broader: you need to appear understandable and relevant to colleagues from other disciplines. When you begin collaborations, they are usually outside your core area of expertise. Especially courageous scientists engage with the source of their funding, the taxpayers, and communicate with non-specialists.

Outside university, the step out of our highly specialised environment is usually abrupt. The ability to justify your work to a boss who has a degree in finance or law does not come naturally; you have to develop it. Similarly, the backgrounds of your colleagues and external contacts, such as customers or suppliers, are often more diverse than at university.

So, throughout our working lives, we all have to talk about our work, whether we want to or not. No PR department will do this work for us. The good news is that most people enjoy it once they engage with it. It is not about simplifying something clumsily, but about making the significance of our subject understandable to a particular target audience. Achieving this is rewarding.

You are paid in your job to do things and to talk about them. So try to master both.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop, we discuss the different ways of applying for jobs. Most applicants choose the conventional route: responding to a job advertisement. Gabrielle opens the discussion: “I’ve heard that I can also make a speculative application.” “And I’ve heard that that’s nonsense,” Theo replies, with little diplomacy. “Didn’t you hear Dr. Neubauer at the panel discussion at the Careers Day? She said that you shouldn’t waste your own time or the company’s.” “Which company does Dr. Neubauer work for?” I ask. “A huge pharmaceutical company; they ought to know.”

Speculative applications can be difficult for large companies to handle: where should the HR department send them? If this is unclear, speculative applications are usually a waste of time. Things are different in small and medium-sized enterprises and start-ups, however: they are less visible than the major companies and therefore have far fewer applications to deal with.

Writing a speculative application is more difficult than responding to a job advertisement. It lacks the framework you can use to structure your application. You should therefore consider what a plausible job advertisement might look like. Construct its content from advertisements for similar positions at the same company or at a competitor. Write your application for this hypothetical scenario and mention at the end of your covering letter the types of positions you would be open to. You should indicate a plausible range of positions: you do not want to be perceived as either inflexible or desperate.

I can tell from Theo’s forehead that he is looking for arguments to defend his statement. “In many cases, there isn’t even a chance of getting a job; otherwise, they would advertise it,” he interjects. Personally, it has happened to me twice that I received a tip-off: Company X wanted to fill a position in the near future. In both cases, I applied without the positions having been advertised and—surprise—received an offer.

“Without a network and the tips it provides, speculative applications are indeed a tough prospect,” I say, reconciling Gabrielle’s and Theo’s statements. When applying for advertised positions, it can be difficult to stand out. With speculative applications, you have to find out who might be interested in you in the first place.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a career workshop, we discuss cover letters. Georg has brought his application documents, which we analyse together.

“I am an enthusiastic chemist with broad interests …”, I read aloud. “I would like to work for your company, which is known to be a leader in the field of responsive polymers.” Georg jumps straight into the rhetorical pause I leave after the two sentences. “I find it very difficult to praise myself, or to praise employers. I feel as though I am just writing platitudes.”

Georg is right, and he is not alone. Most cover letters contain a section that many applicants perceive as obligatory mutual flattery. It does not have to be that way.

Self-praise is not necessary, as described in the column “Show, don’t tell” (Nachr. Chem. 2019, 67(3), 23). Instead, think along these lines: What connection is there between me and the employer? What do I have that no one else has? And: What does this employer offer that others can scarcely offer? If you cannot answer these questions, you should spend more time on self-analysis and research. Otherwise, in the worst-case scenario, you may receive an offer from an employer who is not a good fit for you.

“But how can I know,” Georg counters, “that I sound like someone with a genuine interest in precisely that employer?”

To find out, first scrutinise the key statements you use to describe yourself and conduct a thought experiment: Could your lab neighbour write exactly the same sentence? This is the case with sentences such as: “I have excellent organisational skills.” Here, you are merely naming a lifeless attribute, without giving readers any reason to believe you. But if you write: “While helping to organise the XYZ online conference, I learnt which pitfalls need to be overcome when participants from different time zones and cultures come together.” Few others can point to an experience like this.
Then carry out the same test for your statements about the employer. If, for example, several companies describe themselves as “leaders in the field of responsive polymers”, you need to investigate further to discover what makes this employer unique.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

I am running interview training with a group of postdocs looking for a Career outside academia. “What is your research about?” I ask Afsheen. After five minutes, I interrupt her answer. “You are letting your message get overshadowed by details,” I say. “As far as I understand it, your research is helping us to 3D-print cars in the future?” Afsheen raises her eyebrows. “Er, roughly. But ...” I interrupt her again: “Roughly is fine, unless it is genuinely not true. Then you need to adjust the sentence.” “It’s very simplified,” she mutters.

“Simple is good,” I reply. “Instead of going into detail, you would be better off adding another sentence about why it makes sense to print cars. Production speed? Cost? Something along those lines.” Afsheen remains sceptical. “My research is not about the whole car, but just the bodywork.” “You can always zoom further into your research if someone is interested in it. But no recruiter wants you to go into detail.”

For scientists, it is often difficult to make something simpler than it is. They work every day on a tiny puzzle piece within a larger whole. On top of that, their findings are often highly nuanced – because of exceptions and conditions – and the stories they tell about them are therefore complicated. Scientists have spent years learning to show others even the final decimal place in order to be regarded as competent. And when communicating with other scientists, it is important to present the details carefully.

But when you speak to non-specialists, it is your job to get to the point quickly and formulate a key message in a way that is understandable and relevant to the audience. Of course, this entails risks. Some listeners love to complain when something is not one hundred per cent accurate. But grumbling can be avoided if, for example, you add: “broadly speaking, this means …” or “put simply, I work on …” This reassures the critical listener while also giving you a better chance of having a good conversation.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

I am working with a group of PhD students on preparing their presentations for a conference. “Who exactly did you give this lecture to?” I ask Mathieu, who has just finished his presentation. He rattled through 38 PowerPoint slides in 14 minutes. “You,” he replies. “Unfortunately, it didn’t get through to me,” I say. The presentation reminded me of someone who recently told me that he plays audiobooks at 1.5 times the normal speed so that he can listen to more books in less time. My comment was that it is not about the number of books you read, but what you take away from them. Mathieu was far too fast and far too detailed. “Besides, the audience will be annoyed that you have exceeded your allotted time,” I conclude. “What should I do?” he asks.

My answer: “Increase the signal-to-noise ratio.” With a tight ten-minute speaking slot, you can develop exactly one main point, no more. So identify what you want your audience to take away. You then underpin this message with three or four slides. Include only aspects that support this main message. You can discuss details during the question-and-answer session, if anyone is interested.

“But it is important that I show all the data. Perhaps I could quickly show a few slides without explaining them,” Mathieu suggests. “Like a picture book without any text, but with boring pictures?” I ask. Mathieu sighs. “What if I shorten the introductory story?”

If the audience does not understand the question and the relevance of your research, they will switch off within the first minute. They do not have to listen to you. You have to convince your audience to do so. You do this by finding a compelling opening for your story: What does your research contribute to this world? “If you remove this introduction, you might as well give your lecture to your bathroom mirror.”

Mathieu wants to impress with his presentation, but ignores the audience’s wishes. Yet the audience is precisely what these ten minutes are about. “Think about them, not yourself,” I conclude. “Then both sides will get more out of it.”

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Should I actually write my application documents chronologically or in reverse chronological order?” Valeria asks during an application workshop. “As little as possible,” I reply, which visibly fails to satisfy her desire for a simple answer. I add: “For the sections where it is necessary, namely professional experience and education: reverse chronological order, from the most recent items to the older ones.” It seems logical to structure the entire application documents in reverse chronological order. However, this desire for temporal order has its disadvantages.

In their covering letters, applicants often recount the highlights of their CV in essay form, a soporific exercise in diligence for the readers. Yet the covering letter is the text that may be phrased most freely. You can therefore concentrate on what connects you with the employer: “Three years ago, I learnt from Dr. Sanchez at Analytica that your company …” This sentence fragment demonstrates a long-standing, verifiable interest in an employer, a personal connection and good documentation skills. Weaknesses can also be addressed there: “Although I do not yet possess the fluent German skills required, I have already learnt two foreign languages independently to B2 level: …” This prevents you from being screened out prematurely because you lack one criterion.

You can also partly break away from chronology in your CV. Let us assume that five years ago you acquired an additional qualification that is a perfect fit for the employer. This can easily get lost in chronological sections. You can give a highlight greater visibility at the beginning of your CV in a list of three to five bullet points.

In the main section of your CV, you can do your readers and yourself another favour: summarise your skills in one section. This makes the descriptions in the chronological section more concise and eliminates redundancies. You can condense boring lists such as poster presentations or workshops attended into descriptions of skills. The advantage: you can arrange the skills as you wish and thereby highlight aspects that are most interesting to those receiving the application. They will thank you for it – hopefully with an invitation.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Where is the diversity among your colleagues greater: at a university or in a typical industrial company?” I ask the group at a careers workshop. I can tell from their faces that they all find the question too easy. After a pause, Xavier takes pity on me: “In my project, I work with Igor, Pranoti and Ah Lam. My girlfriend works in industry with Max, Klara and Christian in her team. Those are the raw data; I don’t know where it’s more diverse either.” If we limit ourselves to geographical background, Xavier is right: Apart from university start-ups and a few large corporations whose teams really are as international as the Marketing promises us, universities offer a more international environment. I follow up: “But diversity is a broader concept. What about the other aspects?” There is also interdisciplinarity, educational attainment and age.

If you describe your research project at university as interdisciplinary, you might, for example, work as a chemist with a biologist or a physicist. In industry, the range suddenly becomes much broader. Imagine the intellectual challenge of discussing your results with a female boss who has a degree in law or business administration.

In terms of educational attainment, universities are probably the least diverse working environment. Most of the people you work with during your PhD and postdoc have a doctorate or will have one in the foreseeable future. In industry, you have contact with people with different levels of education. This also puts your communication skills to the test.

Finally, age: Apart from your supervisor, at university you mainly deal with people in their thirties. Here too, industry represents a broader spectrum. The classic example: the university graduate who has to manage employees with 30 years of professional experience.
To conclude, I return to Xavier’s comment: “It sounded as though you saw the international environment as a plus point of university.” If you move into industry but do not want to lose the university’s international environment, you should look for a position in companies that operate internationally. If what you are looking for generally is a diverse working environment with intellectual challenges, industry could have a treasure trove waiting for you.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Wow Benjamin, you’ve certainly given us some hard work to get through,” Sven groans as he skims through his colleague’s application documents. Benjamin did follow the rule that a CV for the non-academic sector should be no more than two pages long, but he needed a few layout tricks to achieve this: font size 10, no line spacing and narrow margins. “How did you go about writing it?” I ask. “I created a CV years ago, which I keep adding to whenever something changes in my professional life. Then I cut it down to the desired length.” From Benjamin’s pained expression, we can see that this is not a pleasant process.

Eileen comes to his aid: “I find it difficult too. I didn’t have enough space left to mention my research placement in Professor Gilg’s group.” “Is that a problem?” I ask. “Absolutely. Anyone who has worked with him can fight their way through,” she explains, almost defiantly.

Why is it so difficult for us to leave out details? Do we really think that the whole world knows what goes on in Professor Gilg’s laboratory? Hardly. The patterns of behaviour and thought from academic study and research work run deep. That is a good thing when conducting research. But an application is different from a publication. Its readership does not have unlimited time and capacity to absorb your application. You are not proving a case. So do not think, “How can I fit in as many points as possible?”, but rather, “How can I optimise the signal-to-noise ratio?” The two or at most three main aspects that you can convey are your signal. Your target audience will hardly take in more. Anything that supports this signal, such as an experience that makes this positive attribute more tangible, may be included in your CV. Everything else is noise in the perception of your readership and can safely be left out.

“One more little psychological trick to make this process more palatable for you,” I conclude this part of the workshop. Crossing out parts of our lives (and CVs) that we are fond of hurts. Turn the process around: start with a blank document and add the most important points. This feels better than subtracting.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

We have been invited to discussions between the Ministry of Agriculture and lobbying organisations. A year ago, we founded an NGO with the aim of reducing the use of peat in the Netherlands. We have now co-authored a parliamentary motion, which an MP submitted, and it was adopted. A great deal is involved in this issue, and we are reading up on it and seeking advice: soil science, carbon accounting, horticulture, to name but a few. And now Gerrit, who advises us on all matters relating to political processes, says emphatically: “You must ensure that no scientists are sitting at the table during the discussions.” That really hits home. What does he mean by that?

He adds: “Scientific and economic facts are the basis for discussions like these. But if scientists are sitting directly at the table, it won’t work. They don’t get to the point.”

Scientists are welcome only in indirect roles and rarely seek a more active role of their own accord. The result: although there are countless scientists in the Netherlands working on peatlands and peat substitutes, the issue was no longer communicated publicly for years. “I’m a scientist, not an activist” or “I can’t include enough quotations in this newspaper” are typical justifications.

We see such patterns again and again among the majority of scientists. Try it yourself – attend a conference and ask at a poster: “Could you explain the content to me?” In most cases, you will be overwhelmed by a monologue, without your conversation partner asking about your background and interests. Shaped by years of intellectually demanding work in a competitive environment, a culture of wanting to be clever takes hold among many of us: we fail to realise that there are people for whom all this is not self-evident.

Communicating about your work in an understandable way is not a luxury task, but essential. The higher you climb the career ladder, the more you have to speak to people who do not understand your work. If you want to influence the world beyond your immediate work, you should communicate in such a way that people are happy to have you at the table.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

I begin a careers seminar by drawing parallels between teamwork and team sports. “Please think a few years into the future. You are working in a position and for an employer of your choice. Please use the roles in a sports club as an analogy: Which position do you occupy?” “Midfielder,” Ingrid begins. “I enjoy bringing people together and then looking for the connections between areas of work.” Oleg names defender, because “I like analysing a situation in order to develop a strategy.” Anke opts for centre-forward, as she “would like to work with customers” and compares scoring a goal with achieving a successful sale.

“Interesting, thank you,” I conclude. “I did say sports club, not sports team. Would nobody like to become a coach or even the club’s president?” “I think that at some point in your working life, you simply become a manager,” says Manfred. From the looks on the others’ faces, I can see that they do not entirely share his view. “In fact, leadership responsibility often grows gradually,” I say. However, it is a conscious choice whether you develop towards becoming a manager or an expert, for example in research.

Whether as a team member or as a head, you should be clear about which role you currently occupy and what you want. If aspirations and reality diverge too widely, collaboration becomes difficult. We all know the crown princes who try to seize the reins without holding a leadership position. I ask the group: “Is there also an opposite to the crown prince?” “You mean a manager who does not want to be one?” Ingrid asks. I nod. “I sometimes get that feeling with my doctoral supervisor – a micromanager who would ideally initiate every reaction himself. ” She describes how demotivating this is and how much he neglects his actual responsibilities as a result. “It feels as though he does not trust us.”

Reflect on your own experiences and observations. Which role would you like to take on, and where do you feel your strengths could be put to best use? If you are then unsure whether a particular amount of leadership responsibility suits you, that is not a problem. Except at a university, it is possible to switch between a management role and an expert role.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a careers workshop, we look at job advertisements from industry. “This advert really wasn’t written for people starting out in their careers,” says Sam, sharing her screen. She points to a line that particularly baffles her: experience in matrix project management is a prerequisite. “How could I have gained this kind of typical industry experience during my time at university?” At this point, I would like to examine the terms more closely. Perhaps it is the industry jargon that is causing the uncertainty.

“Who among you could draw an organisational chart of your own department?” I ask the group. Some looks are shocked, others amused. In a typical university department, only a few responsibilities are visible in a hierarchical structure. The rest emerges from the interactions between members of different groups and individuals. And that is the definition of a matrix structure: projects are handled by time-limited teams from different branches of the structure. “So you all already have experience of working in a matrix; you just call it something else.”

I show a graphic by Nick Reddiford, www.researching.io/blog/researching-skills. It is based on thousands of questionnaires and interviews with doctoral researchers and scientists from industry. “On the left-hand side, you can see the top ten skills with which academic scientists describe themselves. On the right are the skills industry wants. Project management is number two on the right.” I expand the table on the left-hand, academic side. Project management appears here too, but only at rank 35.

Anyone completing a Master’s dissertation or doctorate in the natural sciences is working on a complex project. Project management is part of this, whether it stems from your gut feeling or from a professional infrastructure. Recent graduates are reluctant to describe their skills using terms such as project management, as they associate these with the world of industry. It is more helpful to look at the substance of what you have done over the past few years and then describe it using terms familiar to the other side. This is not showing off, but translation work.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop, we discuss job interviews. Isolde speaks up: “How do I respond to questions about children?” “Or questions about health?” asks Pavel, who had previously spoken openly about his diabetes.

A rule of thumb: questions are permissible if they enable the employer to assess whether you can generally fulfil the duties of the job. In this sense, a prospective bus driver may be asked about their eyesight. Scientists often work in laboratories or offices, which is why most health limitations are not grounds for exclusion. What about people who can fulfil their work but have an increased risk of absence – for example, due to a chronic illness such as Pavel’s diabetes, or because they are parents of young children? This is considered an “ordinary risk of life”, and is therefore a normal part of life. These applicants can generally fulfil the duties of the job, so questions about this are impermissible. “What should I do if questions like these are nevertheless asked?” asks Elisa.

During a job interview, your private life is protected from intrusive questions. However, these questions are usually not asked directly. Instead, ambiguous statements are made: “You are hopefully aware that such a demanding position is hardly compatible with extensive private commitments.” In this case, the simplest response is to confirm the statement without revealing anything about yourself: “Yes, I am aware of that.” If such questions are phrased as questions, the employer is breaking the law. You may remain silent, lie or take the matter to court. Unfortunately, all three options have drawbacks. Employers could interpret your silence however they wish. Lying is also difficult: would you manage it in a stressful situation, and would positive cooperation even be possible afterwards? And who wants to take their future employer to court?

There is at least one reasonably practical solution. You can fire a warning shot and steer the conversation back to what matters: “If you can explain to me what my family plans have to do with my work in this position, I will be happy to answer the question.” This makes it clear that you know your rights, without immediately making threats.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“I would like to discuss two questions with you,” I say to the group during a careers seminar. “What does it take to become a good quality manager? And what does it take to become an excellent quality manager?” Paul’s face twists before he replies: “That’s obviously a trick question, but I can’t think of anything better: first, a love of splitting hairs. Second, a great love of splitting hairs.” “Got you,” I admit, pretending to be offended. “That was a trick question. I agree with the first part.” To become a reasonably competent quality manager, it would be enough to enjoy working precisely and with an obsession for detail. But what makes an excellent quality manager? Where does the wheat separate from the chaff?

The day-to-day life of quality managers looks somewhat different from what many people imagine. Audits are at the heart of their work. In meetings lasting several hours, they examine together with those responsible in the relevant departments whether there are weaknesses in the documentation and working infrastructure, and how these can be rectified. Such audits are classic examples of “important, not urgent”: those responsible are usually champing at the bit to return to their day-to-day business.

“You need a thick skin for an audit like that,” Geraldine interjects. This puts the discussion on the right track. The core skills needed to progress from good to excellent in quality management are: negotiating skills, friendliness, an understanding yet simultaneously assertive manner, and the ability to develop pragmatic solutions with specialists that nevertheless comply with the rules. To do this, quality managers must be able to put themselves in the position of people working in various areas. The requirements for merely functioning in this professional field differ from those for becoming really good at it.

You should carry out this kind of analysis of the criteria for success for a range of professions before deciding in which direction you would like to develop. This will enable you to predict much more accurately whether you might fit into this environment. And when you apply for a job, you will not present yourself merely with generalities or copied wording from the job advertisement. You will then be able to portray a successful employee who knows what she is getting herself into.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a Career workshop, I would like to explore the traces we leave on the internet. I share an article about an applicant whose application process was overshadowed by his colourful Facebook profile: drugs, coronavirus parties and rapidly changing non-platonic acquaintances. After a fit of laughter, Sabine catches her breath: “Always funny to read something like that, but surely nobody is that stupid, are they?” “I know enough cases of well-educated people who have acted just as naively,” I reply. For example, a former colleague had called in sick, went to a music festival and posted about it on Instagram. This breach of trust was met with immediate dismissal.

The virtual world influences our real lives. “What less obvious pitfalls are there, even for careful internet users?”, I ask the group. It takes a little while, but then Eduardo thinks of a former colleague who was determined to work in science journalism. In the second year of her PhD, she attended a conference for which she only had to submit an abstract as a formality. As she did not have much time, she hastily cobbled together a few sentences. In her first job interview, to her horror, she saw a printout of exactly this abstract on the table. Such an abstract can serve as a work sample for a whole range of professions.

Outdated profiles on social media or job-seeker databases do not just look bad; they can also make you appear inconsistent. Statements in a covering letter such as: “There is nothing I would rather do than begin my training as a patent attorney with you” do not fit with the “passion for field research” expressed by the same applicant a year earlier.
It can be just as disadvantageous if you cannot be found on the internet at all – for example, when applying for positions in PR or Marketing departments. Your “strong intrinsic interest in modern forms of communication” consequently loses credibility.

Modern means of communication and self-promotion are neither good nor bad; they should simply be used sensibly.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

After a workshop, a participant seeks me out for a chat. “I feel like I’m a loser,” she confides. Is this exaggerated understatement, or the impostor syndrome that is particularly widespread in academia? To me, at any rate, she seemed the most alert participant in the entire course. “What makes you think that?” I ask. “Well, all my acquaintances of the same age have permanent jobs and are getting loans to buy a house, while I’m treading water in my project work,” she explains. She has already taught herself six languages, but speaks only English and her mother tongue fluently. She is constantly having ideas, but, as everyone knows, the day has only 24 hours, which is why she suffers from a gnawing feeling of being overwhelmed.

“You’re not a loser, you’re a starter,” I can reassure her. Starters are impulsive, creative people who are constantly coming up with ideas, but have little interest in completing something. “Boring, nothing new” seems to be an inner tormentor calling out to them. Starters are by no means losers; they simply need the right environment to move into – or, owing to their personality, often create for themselves. What is important for starters is working together with their counterpart, the finishers. These people love nothing more than clicking the send button when a work package has been completed. They are people who get things done and work in a structured way. Starters cannot manage without finishers, and vice versa.

What does this mean in individual cases? Apply only for positions in which you can express yourself as a starter or finisher. You can learn a technical skill later in your professional career, but you can hardly change your personality; you must already take this into account when selecting positions.
Are you selecting applicants or putting together a team? Then pay attention to balance between different types, which will always look slightly different depending on the task. A start-up requires different qualities from a quality management department.

In some situations, we have to do what the task requires, for example when the starter has to complete her dissertation. Wherever possible, you should find roles that suit your personality type.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Jana’s really got guts,” I hear Bartosz saying during the coffee break at a careers seminar. Curious, I join the conversation. “She completed her PhD in our working group two years ago and immediately got a job in industry. Now she’s thrown in the towel – without having another job lined up.” “How brave of her!” “Or stupid?” “Wow,” murmurs the group.

After the break, I use the case for a spontaneous digression: “Is Jana stupid or brave?” I ask the group. “Raffael from our group could wallpaper his flat with his papers in Applied [Chemistry], and yet it took him more than half a year to find a job. I vote stupid,” Hedwig states.

Every year, the GDCh statistics remind us that even highly qualified chemists need to keep their nerve when starting their careers. In July, the Blue Pages reported that in the first year after graduating, one fifth park themselves in domestic postdoc positions, while ten per cent are even unemployed. For more than a decade, we have seen high enrolment figures in chemistry degree programmes, while the labour market has barely grown. The competition can therefore be tough.

“The unemployment rate among chemists is below three per cent; the GDCh figures seem too high to me,” Esther protests.

It is a common phenomenon: after a difficult start to a career, moving from one job to another usually seems like child’s play. Over the course of our working lives, unemployment is then low. So what changes between the first and second job searches? I see the following factors: once we have got our careers off the ground, we have better access to industry-specific networks and acquire new skills. And we become familiar with more career options, making it easier to find a niche for ourselves in the labour market. So I suspect that Jana is assessing her market value with confidence.

Developing such networks and discovering niches in the labour market from a university setting is more difficult, but by no means impossible. Further training, for example through graduate schools, can help. In addition, you can learn about your options in targeted conversations while making contacts outside the university.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar, we discuss job applications. “Here you can see a map of your city. Where do you think the price per square metre is particularly high?” I ask the group. “Where lots of champagne is drunk and not much is going on,” calls out Ralf, who knows the city like the back of his hand. Just as in a city, there are particularly valuable areas in your application documents, namely the sections that naturally attract readers’ attention. The most relevant information should therefore go there.

“Who will read your application?” I continue. “My future manager, so presumably someone with a scientific background, and someone from the HR department,” says Sofia. “And sometimes a kind of algorithm filters the documents for keywords,” adds Burcu. So you may be dealing with up to three groups of readers. In small companies, only the boss will read the application, and she is probably a scientist or engineer. In larger companies, the HR department will also do so, and in the very largest companies there will also be an algorithm. The order is actually as follows: first the algorithm checks the application, then the HR department, and finally the specialist department. The voice of future managers only comes into play if the HR department forwards your application at all.

The parts of your application that human readers look at first are particularly valuable: the application photo attracts attention, followed by everything that appears near the top or is highlighted. Put only information there that is of particular interest to this employer. You have some scope here, for example by writing a brief summary of your profile in three bullet points underneath the photo, or by moving the skills that are most important to this employer to the top of the “Skills” section. HR staff pay more attention to motivation and personality, which you should emphasise for this group of readers. In any case, you should use jargon and scientific details sparingly – none of your readers will understand them. Finally, the algorithm gets its keywords from the less valuable parts of your application, for example by listing trivial criteria from the job advertisement, such as “MS Office”, in the lower part of the Skills section.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“It might sound like a luxury problem,” Dirk reports at a career seminar. “I already have a job offer from a Finnish company. So I would have to move to another country. How can I know what I’m getting myself into?”

Of course, Dirk searched the internet for all available Literature on the company and also gained an impression during the interview. But what is façade and what is substance? Then there is the organisational effort and the cultural change involved in moving abroad. Not a decision to be taken lightly. “How can I get authentic information, especially within a short space of time?” he asks.

A tried-and-tested method that fortunately also works in times of coronavirus is to talk to experts. Get in touch with people who know more about a topic than you do. In Dirk’s case, these would be anyone who has lived in Finland and worked for this company – including at other locations.

How do you go about it? An impersonal enquiry to info@unternehmen.com is unlikely to yield much success. Nevertheless, you do not need a close personal contact to make such an enquiry. Ideally, someone who knows you will facilitate the contact. But if that is not possible for you, your research will hopefully lead you to personal email addresses or profiles on social media. Then it is often enough for your enquiry to show that you have prepared. You need to express that you would like to speak to this particular person.

Let’s briefly change perspective: Why should someone devote their valuable time to a stranger?

People like talking about themselves. By framing it as an “expert interview”, you emphasise the respectful approach. You are doing them a simple yet valuable favour, and they feel effective and useful in the process. And perhaps the favour will be returned at some point.

Expert interviews are networking tools that are compatible with introverts on both sides. The prerequisite is that they are well-prepared, content-driven one-to-one interactions.

After the conversation, ask for further contacts you could speak to. In this way, you will piece together answers to your questions from individual puzzle pieces.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a workshop, we discuss application documents. “My publication list is going to ruin my chances of getting a job,” Adrian mutters. Throughout his entire PhD, he concentrated on a single project. When his supervisor submitted the results for publication, he was listed as only the third author. “I always assumed that I would be the first author on the publication.” “Fortunately, you want to move into industry anyway,” I interject, “where the publication list counts for much less than at a university,” and add: “Nevertheless, let’s take a look at how situations like this can be avoided.”

If Adrian had reached an agreement with his supervisor before the project began, he might be in a better position today. Industry sets an example here: before a project begins, a project plan is drawn up defining responsibilities. It is unrealistic, of course, to replicate the apparatus of an industrial company at a university. Academic research is also more open-ended, which makes it harder to reach agreements about the future. Could we nevertheless achieve commitment without stifling creativity with too much paperwork?

Write down what you have informally agreed with your supervisor; turn assumptions into concrete statements. This does not need to be a legally binding contract. An email documenting a conversation can work wonders: this allows you to act as a colleague doing others a favour. You could end the email with something like: “Let me know if I have forgotten or misunderstood anything.” This minimal documentation creates clarity and allows you to argue with facts rather than assumptions in the event of a dispute. For ongoing, complex projects, you can share a joint document in which, for example, the list of authors is continuously and transparently updated for everyone as the project progresses. By holding several brief discussions during the project, you avoid a major dispute at the end.

Lawyers disagree about whether an email fulfils the written-form requirement for it to be valid in court. That is not the point in dealings between colleagues. Writing down what you have heard is not an expression of mistrust and need not take much time. It presents you as a professional and helps you avoid conflicts through factual discussions.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“In about a year I’ll have finished my PhD and will need a job; until then, I’m hardly going to turn into Superwoman,” Vera groans. She has looked at job adverts, and her experience was the same as many people’s: job adverts make uncomfortable reading when it comes to self-confidence. They give us the impression that the positions were created for people who are much better qualified.

“Superwoman doesn’t live in Germany, so don’t worry,” I reassure her. “Horst Meier is your competitor for the job. That’s the benchmark.” Job adverts are not written only for applicants; they are also intended to present the employer in a positive light to all the random readers who come across them. That is why they often sound more like Superwoman than Horst Meier.

“Nonsense,” Wouter grumbles, his folded arms across his chest leaving no doubt about the meaning of the word. “What are job adverts like in the Netherlands, then?” I ask him. I am grateful that he has made it so easy for me to segue into cultural differences. “A job advert describes the person who will eventually take the position. Anything else is just ... nonsense.”

Job adverts do not sound unrealistic everywhere in the world. If you are applying for a job abroad, you should speak to people who work there in order to calibrate the requirements in job adverts.

“But if there’s an essential requirement that I don’t meet, then I’m out, aren’t I?” Vera asks. Requirements for applicants are often divided into desirable and essential criteria, or simply arranged in descending order of importance. The distinction between desirable and essential is then fluid. If you meet between 60 and 70 per cent of the criteria, your applications start to become realistic. Focus your application on your strengths. You do not necessarily need to address the points you are missing.

Essential criteria are different: you do not necessarily have to meet them, but you do have to address them. Show how you could develop in that direction or how you could compensate for the weakness with your strengths. Do this in a prominent place, such as the first third of your covering letter, so that you are not rejected prematurely. This demonstrates your capacity for self-reflection, and you are still in the running if the rest of your application is strong.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

A few years ago, I stood at my first scientific conference with my knees knocking. How exciting, how nerve-racking ... A well-groomed middle-aged gentleman approaches my poster without a word and studies it intently. I am not sure whether I should speak to him. So my guest takes the initiative: “Could you quickly walk me through your poster, please?” My explanations are muddled. He loses interest after just a few sentences.

After the conference, I do some research: a renowned professor from Oxford, whose work we could support effectively with our methodology. I already saw myself as a co-author on one of his publications, but unfortunately he did not respond to my emails. What a missed opportunity.

We constantly have to introduce ourselves and our projects. On the subject of “pitching”, as short introductory formats are often called in English, we can find many guides to polished monologues. Unfortunately, these are not authentic and tend to overemphasise self-marketing. Does it have to be this way?

In a classification, my poster presentation would be level 0: no preparation, incoherent rambling. The polished monologue would then be level 1: prepared, but too slick. Fortunately, level 2 is quite easy to achieve: we need to take an interest in the person in front of us and adapt our explanations accordingly. This can be achieved by asking about the questioner’s professional background – ideally followed up with questions such as: “Is that what interests you?”

There is a third level, as I experienced recently in one of my seminars. When I asked participants to introduce their projects to one another, two of them lapsed into seemingly inconsequential chatter. After a few minutes, I put them to the test and asked what they had learnt about each other. “Sven has just started his second postdoc, which he plans to use as a springboard for a spin-off. He has developed a process that prevents fungal infestation on surfaces without additional chemicals. It works like this...” I was impressed by how much information the two had exchanged in such a short time. That was level 3: a relaxed yet focused dialogue.

Self-introductions in monologue form are not ideal, but they are not useless either. See them as preliminary exercises for the higher levels.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Since the pandemic, our female doctoral researchers have had no chance to build an academic network. Do you perhaps have a solution for this?” a professor asks during the final session of her online retreat. I reply: “The pandemic isn’t actually so bad for networking!”

Like this professor, I used to travel to conferences frequently. After interminably long blocks of presentations, the really important parts began: coffee break, lunch break, conference dinner. I often staggered through overcrowded rooms with terrible acoustics. I would choose a standing table more or less at random and hope to find an interesting person there. I was constantly engaged in a balancing act: satisfy my hunger, but not speak with my mouth full, ask a question, discreetly take a bite and then listen with interest while chewing. The timing rarely worked. Instead, it went like this: receive a question, swallow the canapé without chewing, reply frantically. Conversely, it can be difficult to concentrate on a conversation partner who delivers monologues while chewing noisily. Not to mention that neither I nor other people smell particularly good at the end of a long conference day.

Such problems do not arise at virtual networking events. Although a spontaneous conversation during a coffee break is not easy to reproduce online, you can do a great deal to network virtually if you adapt your approach. The first step is to familiarise yourself with the technology. Decline invitations if the conference platform seems too makeshift and you fear wasting your time.

As in face-to-face conversations, you should also show interest and ask questions online. The chat function allows you to ask questions during a presentation, answer other people’s questions or build on their comments. You can get a taste of conferences that would involve too much effort to attend in person. Social media can also help you make contact. Of course, one-to-one conversations are enormously important for networking. Take the initiative and invite people for a virtual coffee or an expert discussion: “I’d like to discuss this further with you.” Your conversation partner will be pleased to receive such an invitation, particularly if she has not yet found her way around the new networking reality herself.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

We have just begun our networking seminar by pointing out that most jobs in science and elsewhere are found through personal networks. Knowing people is the key to success, I said. “It bothers me,” Max grumbles, “that it’s all about who you know.” “I admit that some blowhards unfortunately get quite far when they know the right people. But most people use a combination of networking and expertise to reach the top,” I reassure him.

One example is Paul Erdös. He was a mathematician and probably the quirkiest networking icon in the history of science. Erdös collaborated with more than 500 researchers and, as a result, published more in a single year than most researchers do in their entire lives. Solving mathematical problems was a social activity for him. Erdös was brilliant at mathematics and wanted to make other scientists better. He encouraged them and helped them. But Paul Erdös was also eccentric. Time Magazine dubbed him “The Oddball’s Oddball”. Erdös would turn up without warning on other mathematicians’ doorsteps – wearing a dirty raincoat and wired on amphetamines. For a day, a week or a month, his more or less willing hosts had to look after this helpless guest. He did not cook, nor did he wash his own underpants. If he suddenly felt like doing mathematics in the middle of the night, he would wake his hosts by banging on pots and pans.

“Imagine Erdös had not been particularly good at maths. He would knock on your door – without warning – and wake you in the middle of the night to do calculations. He would also ask you to cook for him and wash his clothes. Would you put up with his behaviour?” Max starts to laugh. “Probably not,” he replies. “Exactly. Erdös was brilliant; he had something to offer. That is why people tolerated this eccentric character.”

You too must have something to offer. Acquire knowledge and skills that make you unique. In doing so, do not lose the desire to help not only yourself but also others progress. This makes networking easier. Because it is not just about who you know. It is also about what you know.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

In a career seminar for doctoral researchers, we discuss various career paths. “I’ve heard that in industry it’s all about money. Is that really true?” Raffael speaks up. “Yes, of course – what else would it be about?” I reply with feigned naivety. All organisations have their own criteria for success. In industry, money is the dominant criterion for success. “What about your PhD supervisor?” I ask. “What is she striving for?” “Publications,” Raffael replies after a brief pause for thought, “what else?”, imitating me as he says the last three words.

When considering whether an organisation is a good fit for us, we need to know its central criteria for success and decide whether they suit us. However, we should avoid jumping to conclusions. The criterion of money does not automatically mean turbo-capitalism or exploitation. Nor should the criterion of publications automatically be equated with an idealistic pursuit of knowledge. It always depends on precisely how this success is to be achieved in a specific case: with or without consideration for people and the environment. Publications can be placed on an altar just as readily as money.

“There are other employers besides universities and industry,” Sandra interjects. I agree with her, but point out that we need to apply the same considerations here, too. The public sector receives its remit – and thus its criteria for success – from higher authorities, such as ministries. The aim is to provide a service to the community using taxpayers’ money. So far, so idealistic. However, every organisation also strives for self-preservation. In the worst case, bureaucracy then ends up battling modernisation.

Raffael makes one last attempt: “Charitable organisations. The criterion for success is doing good. What’s the negative side of that?” Here, once again, it is the classic issue of self-preservation. This becomes apparent when NGOs raise donations using sentimental but irrelevant issues.

Understanding potential employers is more work than you might think. But it repeatedly leads to discoveries. Idealistic goals may dissolve into nothing. And the goal of earning money does not automatically lead to heartless materialism.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

An online interview training session. Together, we imagine the amusing scenario that we are sitting in a job interview for a position we absolutely do not want. “How can we really mess this up?”, I ask the group.

“Everything is virtual at the moment, so there are plenty of pitfalls,” Franziska bursts out. “Camera or face too high or too low, and you immediately look like Hannibal Lecter or one enormous nostril!” The shared laughter generates more ideas. “Start negative, end negative, a classic way to ruin every conversation with relish!”, is the next suggestion. Comments such as “Complain about Deutsche Bahn at the start, then about the weather when saying goodbye” follow. “Long and highly specific monologues like in a PhD presentation”, “Neither eye contact nor smiling” and “Asking about the availability of asparagus dishes in the canteen” fly through the virtual room.

I introduce the second part: “We are already almost finished with this exercise after five minutes. Now we just need to turn all your ideas into positive ones and organise them, and we will have finished our rules and tips.” After a short time, we have summarised the key points:

Begin with a friendly bit of small talk; nothing is more disruptive at this stage than focusing on problems. Very often, you are initially allowed to speak freely; the prompt is “Tell us about yourself”. A brief outline of your motivation is required here; you do not need to lay out your entire life and suffering.

You can anticipate most questions. When asked about your motivation, you should be able to explain why you went from A to B in your CV. You can look up standard questions Online and practise answering them on your own or with friends. If, for example, you are asked about your strengths, self-praise is not what is required; simply put the facts on the table and leave the assessment to the other side. Questions about weaknesses, on the other hand, are about how you deal with them and whether you have the courage to admit to them

Ideally, job interviews are friendly, professional and purposeful conversations in which both sides get to know each other. To prepare, you need only a little time and peace and quiet.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a career seminar, I announce that we are moving on to the topic of job interviews. “Cool, the most unfair format since the introduction of gladiatorial combat,” Pepijn bursts out. “Thanks for pointing that out. What makes you say that?” I ask. “It’s quite simple,” he snorts into his microphone, “they can scrutinise my CV at will, ask my referees questions and prepare themselves for the interview accordingly. I, on the other hand, find only platitudes on their homepage.”

At a job interview, usually the first personal meeting between employers and applicants, both sides want to be well prepared and thereby make a positive impression. Applicants have a number of ways to find out more about the other side than is immediately apparent.

A simple internet search provides some initial insights. Company websites naturally contain marketing copy, but they nevertheless provide starting points for further research, such as products or the company’s history. More interesting are texts such as the employer’s scientific publications or patents. And finally: what do the press and analysts write about the company?

You can view financial data for most companies. Depending on their legal structure, companies have to publish figures of varying levels of detail, which can provide insights even without a background in financial accounting. If, for example, the company is registered in a tax haven, you can immediately recalibrate the “Our values” section of its homepage. If the profit margin is low, the company may lack dynamism – you are unlikely to receive much money for your ideas. A high profit margin could mean that quarterly results matter more than long-term planning or the wellbeing of the workforce.

The best source of information is experts. Ask people who have already worked for the employer or in the same sector. If you find such contacts through your network, your chances of success are good. You gain insights that usually go far beyond the company’s self-image on the internet.

“Right, so I can prepare myself; the gladiator doesn’t have to enter the arena naked. But many of the questions asked then are rather two-faced, aren’t they? I can’t see through them,” Pepijn comments. “We’ll look at that next,” I conclude, and call a break.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar on job interviews, we open the final section: salary negotiations. We quickly worked through the fundamentals. In the chemical industry, starting salaries are fairly uniform: most large employers pay the generous chemical industry collective agreement rates, while the smaller ones are almost invariably 15 to 20 per cent lower. You can use this as a guide when researching your market value. You ask around, study salary comparisons and add five to ten per cent to your market value; that is then your salary expectation. You need to pay attention to two details. The first: salary comparisons sometimes include bonuses and sometimes do not; the GDCh figures are always all-inclusive.

The second detail concerns the target salary. I ask the audience whether they would name a figure or an interval. “An interval, that’s what I’ve read,” replies Sofie. I respond: “If you say 65,000 to 70,000, as an employer I would not even register the higher figure, but would immediately negotiate you down from 65,000 to my target figure.”

You should never allow a company to pay you in air and love; nevertheless, negotiations are not just about salary. Here is an example from one of my salary negotiations following a promotion: My management responsibilities were extended to include a production team working a three-shift system. Originally, my employment contract said nothing about night work, but in an emergency I would not have let my team down. However, I did not want to give this concession to my employer for free. I also wanted to work from home one day a week; the flexibility and the time saved on commuting seemed attractive to me. Each element on its own represented a small concession for either side, from which the other could gain.

So, in your salary negotiations – ideally together with your negotiating partner – consider what could be valuable to both sides. The possibilities range from bonuses to training or flexibility in all its forms. Ideally, both sides should first put ideas on the table without committing themselves. You can then combine these elements until you reach a good outcome. “Salary negotiation” is therefore too narrow a term; think instead of contract negotiations.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Franz is distraught. His partner has received an offer for her dream job in the Netherlands. Neither of them wants to maintain a long-distance relationship. Franz would like to move abroad for an extended period, but he is struggling with his applications – after many hours of research, he has not found a single vacancy for bioorganic chemists like him: “In the Netherlands, I only ever see vacancies for polymer chemists or biotechnologists.”

The other participants in the career seminar sit up in their office chairs and stare into their webcams. They seem to sympathise with Franz or are curious to see whether there is a solution to his predicament. “Who the hell needs polymer chemists?”, blurts out Brian, a Canadian postdoc. He is probably the most extroverted person I have ever met. “You know, Franz, you can learn the hard skills.”

Brian is right. We can acquire technical knowledge quickly; that is what makes us scientists. There are certainly some positions that require highly specialised knowledge which is difficult to learn from day one, but these are exceptions. What we cannot learn so easily are soft skills; it takes more than a course to turn someone who simply follows orders into a leader. It becomes even more difficult when personality traits are lacking. In such cases, applicants and employers alike should steer clear of working together.

Why do scientists find it so difficult to assess their suitability for a position based not only on their subject specialism? It is down to our training. At university, we were raised in an environment where purely technical skills were considered the only factor determining success. After years of study, we are conditioned accordingly. For this reason, Franz sees himself first and foremost as a bioorganic chemist, rather than as a scientist with a broad range of transferable skills. Such skills can be acquired through work on a variety of research subjects.

“Your scientific field is only one criterion among several. Don’t limit your career options because of it,” I add. “Just apply!”, Brian concludes.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

A short debate on the subject of networking in a course for doctoral researchers. One half of the participants are to defend the proposition “Networking outside my field is a waste of time”, while the other half argues against it. When we leave the debate format after a few minutes, personal opinions begin to emerge. Raffael wants to bring things to a swift conclusion: “It’s obvious. The closer people work to our subject, the more worthwhile it is to maintain contact with them.” Nods of agreement around the room.

I do not want to close the subject so quickly. “Purely in terms of intensity, that makes sense.” I draw concentric circles, with ourselves at the centre; around us, our own specialisation in the first circle, then the other natural sciences in the second, and further out, other disciplines. I agree with the group that networking intensity decreases when we consider fields that are further removed from our own. “What activities would you pursue in each of the circles?”, I ask the group. I can practically read the same thought forming on everyone’s faces: “Networking, obviously.” Finally, Theresa, an inorganic chemist who has only just started her doctorate, speaks up: “In the inner circle, I have to be careful not to let anything slip, because that is where the competition is.” This comment changes the attitude of the other participants from defensive to thoughtful. “We are usually assessed by those in the inner circle, on selection committees or during peer review of our applications or publications,” Raffael adds. After several more contributions, we arrive at a nuanced picture.

We should of course maintain contact with people from our own field. They assess us, we can seek advice from those who are favourably disposed towards us, and we have to think tactically when dealing with competitors.

From a networking perspective, the second circle has particularly interesting people to offer: our collaborators. I know this from my own doctorate. My supervisor’s working group was very good at treating DNA chemically. Another group from the same specialism would not have had much to offer us. Collaborations became worthwhile when our molecules ended up in the hands of physicists, medical researchers or biologists.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

The Covid-19 pandemic is forcing us to experiment. Painful as this phase may be, it offers an opportunity to question our habits. We repeatedly hear voices saying: “Online can only be an emergency solution.” But there will be no going back. Anyone longing for an apparent pre-Corona idyll fails to recognise how profoundly the crisis is affecting everyone’s lives and how processes will change over the coming months.

Time jump: It is 2030. The coronavirus crisis, and therefore the lockdown, lasted for years; a vaccine was not available until 2024. We have learnt to exchange ideas on even the most complex topics in teleconferences. The technology for this received a major boost. “Fly to China with a full-sized team for a single meeting? That’s so 2019.” The time and energy spent travelling and dealing with jet lag can be put to better use, quite apart from the environmental aspects.

Teaching is similar. In retrospect, the first attempts in 2020 appear almost tragicomic; internet connections were clogged with recordings of lectures given to empty lecture theatres and shaky videos. When the lockdown ended in 2025, teaching had gained many more tools. Group size, learning preferences and private and professional circumstances can now be analysed and taken into account for every event, making it possible to create a finely tuned mix of in-person and Online content for each individual case. Participants with caring responsibilities? Then we combine evening webinars with compact in-person events in the morning. An international team is to meet for a multi-day event in order to build personal contacts? Then a compact workshop at one location is ideal, prepared with Online content. Without the constraints imposed by the pandemic, we would probably never have come this far. Spending two full days in a seminar room simply because the trainer has to travel from far away? That now seems just as outdated to us as the lecture in Latin once did.

Of course, Online cannot reproduce every element of personal interaction. But in-person events cannot reproduce all the advantages of Online either: including flexibility in terms of time and place and the opportunity to reflect at one’s own pace.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Master’s student Vanessa has received an offer from a pharmaceutical company to complete her master’s thesis there. In addition to gaining valuable experience, she secretly hopes this will enable her to make the leap into industry without doing a PhD. She would rather leave the ivory tower today than tomorrow to explore the world outside. She finds the decision difficult. So she talks to her fellow student Tina.
“What exactly would happen if you accepted the position for your master’s thesis?” Tina asks. “My professors would be angry. They don’t want that,” says Vanessa. “They think that, after five years of hard supervisory work, their people are being poached.” Tina has to smile; the term drudgery springs to mind. “And does that bother you?” she asks. “It would feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to leave a trail of destruction behind me,” Vanessa replies. “Whether you go through with it or not is your decision,” says Tina. “Professors have no right to expect you to work for them for years. That would be a path that doesn’t suit you.” Vanessa takes a breath. With the company’s contract, the university’s and her professors’ influence over her would diminish. And she would not be doing anything illegal.
Vanessa accepted the offer of an industrial master’s thesis and subsequently received a permanent position. By now, without doing a PhD, she has risen to become a Team leader.

Whether you speak to a mentor, a colleague or your best friend when faced with difficult decisions, for these conversations to trigger thought processes in you, your conversation partners do not need outstanding skills or qualifications, but only two qualities: honesty and the ability to critically question the status quo. Just as Tina did with her decisive question, “Does that bother you?” Conversations like these help you gain a clear view of an emotionally charged situation.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a careers seminar, we discuss the final section of CVs: references. “My boss and I will end up serving as the template for the film War of the Roses 2 if this carries on. But since he is supervising my PhD, I have to list him as a referee, don’t I?” asks Jeff. “You are not obliged to,” I reply. “However, you should be prepared to be asked about this gap in the interview. What also protects you is that the recipients of your application must under no circumstances contact your current employer without your knowledge.”

In Germany, employers rarely take up references, although they can be helpful. I have heard employers say several times: “The references are hand-picked, after all. If I ask them, ‘Is this a good candidate?’, all I get is: ‘Of course.’ It’s pointless.” But that is a problem with the questioning technique, not with references themselves. Open questions would be more informative, for example: “What are the candidate’s distinguishing features?” From the answer, an employer could determine whether the hymn of praise fits the position in question – or whether the candidate is being praised for something irrelevant to the role.
Applicants should inform anyone they wish to name as a referee and tell them which position they are seeking. This means that contacts are prepared, and it also provides an opportunity to maintain old connections.
Reference letters seem less useful, as it is not always clear to the recipient who wrote them.
Caution is also advisable with employment references: an employment reference must be worded favourably, which has led to numerous coded formulations becoming established. It is not always certain that both sides understand the wording correctly. As a result, this document degenerates into a box-ticking exercise. Nevertheless, you must ensure that there are no formal errors and that, for example, all duties and skills are listed and appropriately weighted. It is therefore advisable for both sides to have the reference checked by a service provider, professional association or trade union. This can help you avoid it containing hidden barbs directed at you – whether intentionally or not.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar for doctoral researchers, we discuss how to present the strong and weak points of a CV. After we have discussed how best to portray the many stages of Elizabeta’s career, Gregor grumbles: “I think I have the exact opposite of all those impressive experiences.” Twelve pairs of eyes turn towards him. Their owners can hardly wait to find out what has left such a blemish on his CV. “An abandoned PhD,” he adds. “Should I simply leave a gap and hope no one notices? Or should I be frank: professional loser who couldn’t get on with his PhD supervisor?” Nervous giggles mingle with nods. No one envies him having to include something like that in his CV.
The same Gregor had provoked warm laughter just half an hour earlier. That discussion was about the differences between academia and industry. He had leaned back, stroked his beard and told us: “The most significant difference, I think, is the timescale. In industry, everything is dictated by tight project management. In academia, time trickles by in, shall we say, geological dimensions. Projects continue until death do us part.”

Most employers in industry are satisfied with their employees who hold PhDs. When problems arise, the complaints are invariably the same: very rarely is there anything lacking in their scientific qualifications. Companies are more likely to criticise their poor adaptability to a different culture and to the way work is done in industry. From this perspective, an abandoned PhD can even be viewed positively. When projects go badly, you need a range of skills. Perseverance is one of them, as anyone who has completed a PhD demonstrates. Gregor also shows that he can make an uncomfortable decision in a difficult situation – a highly relevant skill for working in industry, where the pace is different from that in academia.

Of course, you should never speak negatively about former employers. However, there are many reasons why an employment relationship can become unproductive. So you do not need to hide awkward points in your CV. Simply describe what you did, why you made that decision and what you learned from it.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Geert looks dreadful. His hair is standing on end, and the dark circles under his eyes speak volumes. “Thanks for letting me vent,” he grumbles into the phone. What he has been through over the past few days is often cited as justification for executives’ higher salaries: the stress of having to deal with unpleasant decisions. The decision Geert has been putting off for days could hardly be more difficult. One of his employees had taken breaks lasting several hours and recorded them as working time—a breach of trust. Her time records showed that she had gradually tested the fraud over a period of months. And now Geert does not know how to respond. What makes the matter so difficult is that she has children to support and the family depends on her income.
Before Geert can hang up, he hears his school friend’s voice on the line once more: “Is there any chance you could ever trust her again?” “No!” Geert blurts out, his voice almost cracking. Without another comment, his friend hangs up.

We often put unpleasant decisions on the back burner. But they do not simply resolve themselves there; instead, they erode our credibility and cause further conflicts. Rationally, most people would agree that we should make decisions promptly as soon as sufficient facts are available. Why do we so rarely act according to these principles?
“If I can never trust her again, then continuing to work together is pointless,” occurs to Geert. He does not actually see himself as a cold-hearted manager. But his employee was the one who put her job at risk. In the end, Geert prepares the summary dismissal with the HR department; he has sufficient evidence.

Do as Geert did and break the decision down: first, he decided whether he should end the working relationship. His friend’s question provided him with the answer. Then he had to come to terms with the fact that he would not reverse this decision. After the whether comes the how. The task now is to find the least bad solution.
If we do not separate these two parts of the decision, the excessively difficult how overshadows the whether. We do not even want to imagine how unpleasant the situation would be, so we put off the decision.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar on self-marketing, we discuss the use of social media. The ensuing discussion could be enough to break someone out in a cold sweat. Yet after just two statements, the positions are staked out. ¬Clara, a spirited postdoctoral researcher, immediately snorts: “It may be a pleasant pastime, like feeding ducks or binge-watching Netflix. But professionally, it has never got anyone anywhere. Or do you think Novartis’s HR department is just waiting for the most brilliant post of the month before filling vacancies?” Sven takes up the gauntlet thrown down to all course participants who have clicked a -Like- button more than three times in their lives, with studied coolness. “I don’t want to sound like a know-it-all,” he begins in a schoolmasterly tone, “but if you just bury yourself in the lab and then think that recruiters from outside your field can read your brilliance from your twelfth publication, you’re mistaken.” He floods the room with a torrent of Anglicisms that, in his view, are all terribly important: visibility, traffic, likes and shares. He concludes – entirely without judgement, of course – that everyone must decide for themselves which century they want to live in.

“Although your opinions could hardly be further apart, you are both right,” I conclude.
All social media platforms are structured in the same way in one respect: to achieve network effects, as many people as possible have to participate, as writers, readers, likers or sharers. For the success of the network, it is irrelevant whether the exchange is substantive or superficial. It is scarcely possible to determine whether our efforts are achieving anything or whether we are merely getting a few bored people to press a Like button. That is why we are all too easily persuaded – with the friendly assistance of the providers – to rely on substitute metrics such as likes and shares, which are supposed to indicate traffic and visibility. We are pleased about them and, in the worst-case scenario, become addicted to them, even though there may be no genuine interest behind them at all – just noise, no signal.
Private social media are for entertainment, and nothing else. This should not be mixed up with professional matters. Professional networks are useful for maintaining distant contacts or deliberately searching for people because of a particular question. If you enjoy collecting things, you can collect stamps, likes or shares. Professionally, it makes no difference.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar for postdocs, we are discussing whether it makes sense for Dirk to work towards an Emmy Noether grant for early-career research group leaders. “To do that, I would need international experience, and at the moment I can’t imagine that. I don’t want to have to uproot my children several times,” he objects. His choice of words makes the rest of the group smile, but I also see concerned looks revealing that he is not alone in his reservations. “Yes, you need experience of an international environment, but that does not necessarily mean spending time abroad,” I respond. Even in the Emmy Noether Programme, with its rigorous selection process, the criteria for international experience have been broadened: applicants can also demonstrate this through collaborations or an international working environment. Of course, it is hard work competing with those who have spent time abroad, particularly before appointment committees, which are generally not very lenient. So try to describe what you have learnt, how you spent your working days and how these experiences have changed the way you work.

What lies behind the demand for international experience? The research organisations want to support open-minded people who draw inspiration from several sources. They should not only know how things work at their home institution, but also be able to understand the situation of their future colleagues from abroad.

The research organisations have taken a sensible step by loosening the strict criterion of spending time abroad. In an age of increasingly diverse career paths among young people, this is a positive sign. After all, who guarantees that research in a postdoc bubble broadens one’s horizons? During this phase, one is sometimes not involved in what is happening at the institute and consequently learns little about how the organisation functions. Some lab-obsessed postdocs notice the change of location only because the instant noodles now come from Sainsbury’s rather than Carrefour; the learning effect is limited. Whether you grow through international experience depends on how you spend your postdoc.

And perhaps broadening one’s intellectual horizons could be taken even further? Why should research organisations not also view sources of inspiration such as several years of industry experience positively?

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

At a careers seminar, the topic is job interviews. After an introduction to telling interesting stories, we try to apply what we have learned to the standard opening question: “Please tell us something about yourself.” What we hear in the first attempts sounds like carefully worded articles from Angewandte Chemie with titles such as “Synthesis and Analysis of My Life to Date and Application to the Case Study ‘Working for Chemical Company X’” or “A Logical Derivation of Personal Suitability for the Position”. Had the subject been an inductive proof, that might have been slick. In an interview with a recruiter, however, the verdict is: missed the point.

“It was only in the very last sentence that you let us know why you are here,” I comment. “Put yourself in the other person’s shoes. After ten semesters of business psychology, at this point I would probably be thinking: ‘The fluff on my jacket really needs brushing off again. Yawn!’”

When you are asked to talk about yourself in a job interview, your conversation partner expects a substantial story, but not a proof or a novel. With a proof, you need incontrovertible logic, which you must build up step by step until you can finally exclaim: “Quod erat demonstrandum!” With a novel, you set up a kind of stage and devise a very long arc of suspense, which you then resolve at the climax, towards the end of the story: “It was the gardener; he killed the grandmother!”

A job interview does follow a logic too, and you should certainly arouse curiosity. But to do this, you need to turn the arc of suspense from the novel upside down. Let your listeners know right at the beginning why it will be worth following your explanations. Immediately establish the connection between your background and the employer. Only then provide the details that substantiate your statements. You do not need to recite your CV; the recruiters have already read it. Then throw the ball back to your conversation partner. This will get the conversation flowing and take you out of the novel-or-proof corner.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“Who among you has a doctoral plan?” I ask the group at a time-management seminar. Eleven doctoral researchers look at me as if I had asked them when the last UFO had landed on their campus. “A timetable for what should happen over the next three years,” I clarify. “Oh, I have something like that,” says Marius. “I drew up a long-term research plan with my supervisor. Every six months there is an official meeting to discuss progress and set goals.” “A good start! Does the plan include anything other than research?” I ask. “No. What else would there be?”

“How do you define a successful doctorate? What do you need to achieve over the next few years for the doctorate not to have been a waste of time?” I reply. “A few publications, ideally in high-impact journals,” Marius answers. “And a well-written doctoral thesis,” adds Anna. The rest of the group nods. I press on: “Nothing else?” Silence. “So that means: if you have first authorship in Angewandte Chemie and write an intellectually breathtaking doctoral thesis, then it was a successful doctorate?” Again, nods.

The supervisors of these doctoral researchers would probably agree. After all, the doctoral researchers support their supervisors’ careers with their publications, and the supervisors need the doctoral thesis for the researchers’ degree. I would define a successful doctorate as follows: afterwards, you are employable, and the process has not driven you out of your mind.

“Who among you is aiming for an academic career?” I ask. Only Anna tentatively raises her hand. “Nobody else?”

The other ten shake their heads.

In the academic world, publications make you employable. There is no question about that. Outside the ivory tower, however, hardly anyone is interested in them or in your thesis. Employers want to see skills, professional development and your energy. If your doctorate revolves solely around publications, you are not enhancing your employability. Of course, your research comes first during your doctoral studies, but it is not the only thing. Your doctoral plan should also include things such as soft-skills courses, holiday academies, conferences or public relations. And finally: employability alone is of no use if you finish your doctorate mentally and physically broken – holidays, exercise and social contacts should be part of your plan.

Karin Bodewitz, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

“I can’t imagine these jobs being family-friendly,” says Maya, a doctoral student. She has already said in our Women and Career seminar that she would like to start a family in the next few years. I watch as she makes room for children who do not even exist yet: with a thick pen, she crosses out the options “consulting”, “academic career” and “sales” on her worksheet. But instead of asking her whether she is sure that she and her partner will be able to have children at all, I interject: “What exactly is a family-friendly job for you?” “One where I don’t have to travel, at least not several times a month. And ideally with flexible working hours.” “Is travelling unfriendly to family life?” I ask. “Of course!” another participant bursts out, looking at me as if it were the most ridiculous question in decades. “You wouldn’t even be able to put your children to bed yourself,” Maya adds.

“Perhaps it isn’t so bad if you don’t put the children to bed every evening,” I reply. “Then your partner can have the bedtime story and kisses all to themselves. And you can sleep through the night and enjoy an uninterrupted dinner.”

This seminar is no exception. When it comes to Career, discussions often take a similar direction. We set entire career paths aside because we think we cannot be successful in them while also looking after our families. The reason for our rejection is usually that we elevate the perfect work–life balance, the magical 8–8–8, to the status of a mantra: eight hours each for work, sleep and private life. But maintaining this balance every day is unattainable, and that is perfectly normal. At some times, work dominates: you are under pressure to meet deadlines or are on a business trip. At other times, private life carries more weight, for example when your son has a dance competition or when you need to get home earlier during the school holidays.

Think about how much time and weight you want to give to the individual parts of your life. Your own balance should emerge from this, over a longer period of time. Expecting it to be like that every single day is unrealistic. It is better to enjoy the variety.

Karin Bodewitz, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

In an application seminar, I suggest a change of perspective: instead of simply looking at and commenting on the application documents, participants should initially work like recruiters – under time pressure: they have exactly three minutes per application and must then answer a questionnaire about the applicants. After five of these three-minute short analyses, the signs of fatigue on their faces are clear. One groans: “You can always quickly tick ‘Strong in science’, but if you want to know more, you have to search for a long time.”

Together, we analyse the application documents and repeatedly find the same patterns. For example, one participant is applying for a position in science communication. “You completed a Master of Journalism as a second degree. Where does it say that?”, I ask her. “My CV is supposed to be in reverse chronological order. And I completed the Master’s four years ago.” It is therefore in the lower half of the first page. “If you wanted to hide something, where would you do it?”, I ask her. She has to smile and points to precisely this spot in her CV.

In most application documents, the sections “Professional experience” and “Education” take up a great deal of space. Readers often have to work their way through long and redundant lists of skills at every stage, yet still do not really learn what sets you apart as an applicant. “Postdoc: Organic synthesis … PhD: Organic synthesis … Master’s dissertation: Organic synthesis …” Usually, the cryptic titles of the dissertations and the names of the supervisors are also listed, although they will mean something only to absolute specialists.

So keep the descriptions of your career concise: briefly describe your responsibilities and achievements. That is sufficient and more informative.

To highlight the real gems, consider including a “Highlights” or “Profile” section at the very top of the first page, directly before your career history. This could consist of four or five keywords or bullet points that are particularly relevant from your readers’ perspective. Make sure that you choose summary formulations to avoid redundancies with the covering letter and the main part of the CV. This frees you from the constraints of chronology.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

The participants in a career seminar are divided into two small groups. Each receives a set of cards. One group gets the set showing typical job application strategies, from “Respond to a job advertisement” to “Submit a work sample”. The set for the other group illustrates how employers prefer to receive applications, such as “Speculative application” and “Hire an intern”.

Each team works on a ranking of the respective preferred paths for applying for a job or recruiting employees. When the time allotted for the exercise is up, we place the two rankings side by side, and it does not take long before sounds of astonishment can be heard: “They are exactly opposite,” says postdoctoral researcher Steffi.

Indeed. The applicants’ team’s list runs from the top position, “Respond to a job advertisement”, via “Submit a work sample” to “Direct contact (for example, completing an internship)”. At the employers’ end, the top position is occupied by “Hire internal candidates (intern)”, while “Advertise a position/receive a speculative application” ranks at the bottom.

“What was your objective with each ranking, what were you optimising for?” I ask the group. Soumitra, one of the “employers”, speaks up. “If I have a good intern, I know that they will also be good in a permanent position. The risk is lower.” “What risk?” I probe. “Well, hiring someone who leaves again soon or is not suited to the position costs a lot of money,” he explains. “And on the applicants’ side, what was your objective here?” I ask the other group. “I want a position quickly, one that should be a good fit. I filter the advertisements according to my preferences,” Emöke explains on behalf of the applicants. “That is quicker than completing an internship first.”

Welcome to the application paradox. Employers and applicants have different objectives: applicants minimise the time involved, while employers minimise the risk of making the wrong decision. This explains precisely why, from an applicant’s perspective, it is worthwhile seeking contact with a few carefully selected employers at an early stage, for example through collaborations, one-to-one discussions, internships or summer schools. Mass applications, in which only one section of the covering letter is adapted, tell employers nothing about whether applicants are capable and willing to engage with the work. Employers want to minimise their risk. Help them to do so.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar for postdoctoral researchers and junior professors, we discuss the topic of research funding. After covering the usual suspects, I ask whether anyone has also looked into funding from industry. Fred, who is currently preparing for his first appointment procedures, replies reflexively: “No. I can’t imagine allowing myself to be used as an extended workbench. I might as well work for them outright then – and earn more!”

I use this prejudice as my starting point: “With every source of funding, you need to ask whether it suits you and your research, and whether you are being supported or exploited.” I pause until the participants’ first uncertain glances drift towards Jane. She had reported that her grant provider dropped her like a hot potato when a competing group published on her topic. You can encounter tough conditions anywhere, even with foundations or associations.

“You need to look closely at every source of funding, regardless of whether it is public or private.” The arguments that funding from industry is somehow dirty and could damage your integrity as a researcher are considered outdated. Securing third-party funding is a decisive criterion in appointment procedures, and as long as you conduct good research, it does not matter where the money comes from. With a diverse portfolio of funding sources, you can therefore score points in an appointment procedure.

However, when you secure funding from industry, you are dealing with a partner with complex vested interests. Check in advance whether your freedom of research is restricted. Can you still publish, and if so, with what restrictions? With whom and how can you share your results and ideas? Question your partners’ motives: Are you of interest to industry because your doctoral researchers are cheaper than permanent employees in industry? Or is the aim to develop a commercially relevant application from your research?

After a lively discussion, I add: “You should also keep the development of your doctoral researchers and postdocs in mind.” Some of them may want to move into industry. For them, an industry collaboration would be a great experience and would increase their market value. This, in turn, would give you, as a group leader, a reputation for caring about the future of your doctoral researchers and for having a network outside the university.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar on self-marketing, I ask the group: “Do scientists tend to show off?” The question elicits completely different responses. On the one hand, Homo scientiae is often introverted and tries to shine more through work at the laboratory bench than through self-promotion. This applies particularly to younger scientists. On the other hand, studies on the development of personality traits over the course of a scientist’s career show that established researchers can tend towards displays of dominance. How do we find the right balance? How do we prevent ourselves from underselling our abilities as wallflowers or alienating those around us through dominant behaviour?

In my seminars, following this opening question, the discussion usually moves towards compromise, and this case was no exception: “Then I suppose I do need to lay it on a bit thicker after all, don’t I?” That does not seem like the optimal solution to me, but rather the lowest common denominator between two extremes. You still come across as a show-off, just not quite as much. “Why not do it as you would in science?” I ask in response. “Why not let the facts speak for themselves and leave the evaluation to the other person? Then you will come across well without having to lapse into self-praise.”

If you invest enough time in your preparation, you will certainly find experiences from your past that you would like to share. “Show, don’t tell” is the advice you can apply to many situations involving self-presentation, whether in job applications, interviews or during the coffee break at a conference. Tell them the facts and let the other person draw the conclusions. That is self-presentation without boasting. Let us assume that you want to convey in an interview that you have organisational skills. If you have organised an international conference, you do not need self-praise or superlatives to make a good impression. Explain which challenges you overcame. In other words: show the data. Your listeners will then reach the conclusion themselves that you have organisational skills.

But you do have to mention your experience; otherwise, you will wither away in the wallflower corner.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

In a seminar, we discuss careers: “Jennifer had to write around a hundred applications for her first job. After 18 months in the job, she then moved to another employer without any effort. Why was that so much easier?” asks a doctoral student. Starting a career is indeed much more difficult than the steps that follow. This is partly down to our own behaviour: after leaving the ivory tower, we network more actively and strategically. In addition, our view of career options broadens. But why does our market value in employers’ eyes increase when we have industrial experience? We have often asked ourselves and our seminar participants this question and have identified four skills that we do not, or hardly, learn at university:

Quality management (QM): Universities generally operate without a formal QM system, whereas almost all industrial companies have one. You can already attend quality management courses at university and thereby indicate that you know what you are getting into. Or you can establish your own QM-lite system in your working group – with tact and sensitivity.

Leadership experience: As a rule, university graduates have never occupied a position above another person in an organisational chart. Yet teaching seminars, supervising research interns or leading a Scout group are also leadership experiences, often highly complex ones. If you have to explain to a group of ten-year-olds that they must put up the tents before they are allowed to jump into the lake, you cannot hide behind your position or cut a bonus; you have to persuade them. And you need to present this accordingly in your application.

Commercial thinking: Show that you can handle money, for example by offering your supervisor help with managing the laboratory budget.

Communicating with non-specialists: At university, you work with colleagues from all over the world. And yet you live in a bubble, a brain bubble. You can easily spend months working only with doctoral students or postdocs. In industry, you have to talk to customers, employees, supervisors and others who do not understand your technical language. Perhaps you can find time to present your work to non-specialists. In an interview, you should not overwhelm your counterpart with jargon and details.

You cannot learn about every aspect of industrial experience during your studies. But you can be aware of the gaps, look through your past for relevant experiences and try to close some of those gaps.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

“So you are already right in the middle of the application phase. That is a great case study for us,” I say to a participant in a career seminar and ask him how he is going about it. “Well, just the usual way,” he replies. “I know some companies by reputation or from careers fairs, or because we are their customers. I look around their websites, browse job boards, and have polished up my CV. And when I see something interesting, I apply, simple as that.” There are nods here and there around the room. But rattling off such an obvious process fails to excite anyone. “And have you been successful?” I press. “I have sent off 35 applications and so far received just one invitation to an interview. But that did not lead to an offer.”

What the participant describes here is indeed the standard way of applying for jobs. It is also the main reason why it takes many graduates so long to be offered a position. Usually, it is not a lack of specialist knowledge, nor the application documents, but the simple economic principle of supply and demand. Those who follow standard routes are not travelling them alone. And wherever many people are travelling, it is harder to stand out.

“I’m not really sure what else I’m supposed to do,” the participant says.
When looking for jobs, we fall back on automatic patterns: we apply to employers who seem familiar to us, in places we know or which are known to be attractive. We limit ourselves to activities we know we can do – after completing a PhD, that usually means research. And these are precisely the three dimensions in which we can make life easier for ourselves: we could look for smaller organisations, avoid ruling out lesser-known locations, and familiarise ourselves with the full range of positions for which we could be suitable. If you are getting nowhere with your applications, consider where you can make the most effective change. If, for example, after taking an in-depth look at your inner self, you realise that you cannot live away from metropolitan areas and that you are genuinely only happy in research, you can still adjust one other variable: look at smaller companies.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

Drinks reception at a conference. While keeping my eyes open for people to talk to, I observed a doctoral researcher confidently approaching a professor who was standing alone at the bar. “May I introduce myself?” were her first words as she extended her hand to him. During the handshake, she gave her name and her institute. The professor responded with a smile and listened attentively. The name of her doctoral supervisor seemed to leave the other person with nothing but question marks on his forehead; her field of research was not mentioned. “I have already read many of your publications, and I am very interested in your work,” the doctoral researcher continued, without saying what exactly it was that fascinated her so much. The professor was still smiling, without knowing where the conversation was going. “I will complete my doctorate in the next few months and would like to know whether a postdoctoral position will become available in your laboratory.” The listener’s brow furrowed. His curiosity immediately gave way to an urge to escape. “Unfortunately, not at present, but please feel free to keep an eye out for vacancies on my homepage,” he said, taking his leave with a nod. The doctoral researcher seemed to realise what this meant.

For me, the conversation was instructive. Good networking usually takes place in three phases: 1. visibility, 2. credibility and 3. benefit. First, you have to be seen; you need to stand out from a crowd of people somehow. There are many ways of doing this, for example with a presentation or, as the doctoral researcher did, by introducing yourself. This should be followed by a phase in which you underscore your credibility: your conversation partner should perceive you as professional and interesting. Depending on the participants’ backgrounds and the situation, this phase lasts for different lengths of time – sometimes years. Only after this phase can you move on to the final phase and focus on the aim of your conversation. You can now enquire about available positions or suggest a collaboration. If we focus on our own benefit too quickly, we are simply annoying. If, on the other hand, we omit phase 3 and hope that we will be discovered, we fall into the Sleeping Beauty trap. The doctoral researcher’s success might therefore have been greater if she had given some thought to phase 2.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

“Now we know what is important in our lives. Let us now look at what is unimportant and merely distracts us,” I say after the lunch break at a time-management seminar. The group soon compiles an impressive list: perfectionism, unnecessary queries, loud conversations in the office ... Unchallenged frontrunners on every hit list: smartphones and emails. “How often do you check these messages?” I ask. “I’m notified by a beep and then check straight away,” says one participant, while the others nod silently.

She is not an exception. In my seminars, I often meet doctoral students who are addicted to their smartphones. They know that the constant beeping of WhatsApp messages and emails, and their fear of missing out (Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) syndrome), have a negative impact on their work performance. It distracts them, drains their energy and bores them – despite all the activity it causes. Some users are on the verge of burnout and long for digital withdrawal, but simply do not know how to achieve it.

I show them examples of brain damage caused by social media and compare their behaviour with classical conditioning, as in Pavlov’s dogs. This comparison helps some of them recognise how senseless their behaviour is, but not everyone. “Put your smartphone on silent,” I then suggest, but for many even this step is unthinkable. “I arrange my lunch dates via WhatsApp; the others expect me to reply immediately,” one participant indignantly protests. “What lovely colleagues,” I say ironically. She replies: “Why? I expect the same when I write something.”

Many bosses are not much different from their employees; only the medium changes from WhatsApp to email. “Why not set aside a fixed time each day to deal with your emails?” I suggest. “Switch off your email programme for the rest of the time. Then you will have much more time for concentrated work.” One participant blurts out that this is impossible: her boss communicates by email, and she has to respond immediately in urgent cases. “How often does that happen?” I want to know. “Perhaps every two weeks, but then it really is urgent.” “Then he’ll just have to call.”

Every interruption distracts you from your work. If I were the boss, I would consider partially banning social media in the workplace and introducing, for example, a few hours in flight mode. You could give these an advertising-friendly name such as #prohibited hours. But lead by example and do not send emails at ungodly hours or launch into unannounced monologues in the laboratory. At some point, we managed to ban alcohol and cigarettes from laboratories. Perhaps it is time to do the same with smartphones.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

“Anyone who has visions should see a doctor.” Apply Helmut Schmidt’s dictum to your own Career planning, or do you tend to follow the typical advice of recruitment consultants and develop a grand vision for your Career? Is it essential, or at least a plus point, to be able to answer the standard question “Where do you see yourself in five years?” without hesitation?

I discussed this with a university friend who was frustrated after his latest job interview. “The recruiter naturally asked where I would like to be in five years. Complete nonsense—no one knows that. I told her that I deliberately wanted to keep my options open so that I would not be too inflexible if opportunities arose. I could tell from her face that it was not a good answer.”

How much vision you develop for your Career planning is certainly a subjective question. Here are a few thoughts beyond recruitment orthodoxy:

Tim Minchin, an Australian speaker and comedian, encourages us to live out our “micro-ambitions” and to engage fully with what is happening right in front of us. He warns that the biggest dreams can crowd out the small, glittering treasures at the corners of our eyes. The American psychologist John Krumboltz uses the term “Planned Happenstance”. He uses it to describe an attitude in which we should positively anticipate the unexpected aspects of life. This increases the likelihood of chance encounters. A rigid Career plan runs counter to this strategy.

So if you tend to live from day to day, simply ask yourself about your motivation: if fear and reluctance to make decisions are showing through, you should rethink your approach. If, on the other hand, you consciously embrace the unknown, you now know the technical term for it and no longer need to justify yourself.

Planning is by no means pointless, however. Concrete goals or even broad visions can increase motivation and focus. Facebook chief operating officer Sheryl Sandberg describes her approach as having long-term goals, but not pursuing them rigidly. She wants to know how she will manage the next 18 months and lets the longer-term goals unfold in due course.

How firmly or loosely you approach your own Career planning should suit you, not outdated dogmas. After all, you have to live with your decisions. Only you know whether boredom or uncertainty causes you more pain and how important excitement or stability are to you. So set goals and keep your eyes open for the unexpected, in whatever way suits you.

Philipp Gramlich, p.gramlich@naturalscience.careers

I coached a young woman who had just submitted her master’s thesis when she became pregnant. She did not yet have a job, but her CV was impressive. She was also highly motivated and had the infrastructure in place to reconcile motherhood and her Career. “A year at home? No, that wouldn’t be for me,” she said firmly. “I want to and can return to work immediately after maternity leave.” She knew she needed a job she could return to. I advised her to apply as normal and not to disclose her pregnancy too early. “The legal framework allows you to keep quiet until after signing the contract, provided you have the infrastructure to be able to carry out the role properly,” I informed her. “An offer cannot then be withdrawn because of your pregnancy.” My conversation partner felt it was appropriate to reveal all after the interview, but before signing the contract.

She applied for a position at a university and was invited for an interview immediately. During the interview, the professor asked some general questions, but was at least as interested in probing into her private life. She limited her answers to information relevant to the role and did not mention her pregnancy.

A few days later, she found an email from the professor in her inbox. “I am pleased to be able to offer you the position. When exactly could you start?” She did not hesitate for long and picked up the phone: “I am delighted by your offer, but I would like to mention that I am pregnant. However, I have …” “I can no longer offer you the position,” he interrupted, adding: “But I don’t hold it against you.” She tried to follow up: “But surely we can look for ways of organising the work?” To which he replied: “You can always check the department website for new vacancies.” With that, the conversation was over.

The professor lacked basic knowledge of employment law. However, as a group leader, it is dangerous not to familiarise yourself with the law relating to employing and working with staff. Otherwise, a court hearing could interrupt your research work.

The professor was lucky, because the applicant had other plans than taking the matter to court. She would have been able to successfully sue for the position; the Maternity Protection Act and the General Act on Equal Treatment are unambiguous in this regard. A cheerful boss would not have been included in the package.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers

Ich hatte eine junge Dame im Coaching, die gerade ihre Masterarbeit eingereicht hatte, als sie schwanger wurde. Eine Anstellung hatte sie noch nicht, aber ihr Lebenslauf war beeindruckend. Zudem war sie hoch motiviert und verfügte über die Infrastruktur, um Mutterschaft und Karriere zu vereinbaren. „Ein Jahr daheim? Nein, das wäre nichts für mich“, sagte sie bestimmt, „ich möchte und kann direkt nach dem Mutterschutz wieder einsteigen.“ Sie wusste, dass sie einen Job brauchte, in den sie zurückkehren kann. Ich riet ihr, sich ganz normal zu bewerben und nicht zu früh von der Schwangerschaft zu berichten. „Der gesetzliche Rahmen erlaubt es, bis nach Unterschrift des Vertrags stillzuhalten, solange Sie die Infrastruktur haben, die Stelle auch wirklich ausfüllen zu können,“ informierte ich sie. „Ein Angebot kann Ihnen dann trotz der Schwangerschaft nicht genommen werden.“ Meine Gesprächspartnerin empfand es als angemessen, die Karten erst nach dem Gespräch, jedoch vor Unterzeichnung des Vertrags auf den Tisch zu legen.

Sie bewarb sich auf eine Stelle an einer Universität und wurde sofort eingeladen. Im Gespräch stellte der Professor einige allgemeine Fragen, bohrte aber mindestens genauso interessiert in ihrem Privatleben. Sie beschränkte ihre Antworten auf relevante Informationen für die Stelle und erwähnte ihre Schwangerschaft nicht.

Einige Tage später fand sie eine E-Mail des Professors in ihrem Postfach. „Ich freue mich, Ihnen die Stelle anbieten zu können. Wann könnten Sie denn genau anfangen?“ Sie überlegte nicht lange und griff zum Telefon: „Ich freue mich sehr über Ihr Stellenangebot, doch möchte ich erwähnen, dass ich schwanger bin. Ich habe aber ...“ „Die Stelle kann ich Ihnen so nicht mehr anbieten,“ unterbrach er und fügte noch hinzu: „Ich nehme es Ihnen aber nicht übel.“ Sie versuchte noch nachzuhaken: „Aber wir können doch nach Möglichkeiten suchen, wie wir die Arbeit gestalten?“ Worauf er antwortete: „Auf der Lehrstuhl-Website können Sie sich ja immer wieder nach neuen Stellen erkundigen.“ Damit war das Gespräch beendet.

Dem Professor fehlte es an grundlegenden Kenntnissen des Arbeitsrechts. Es ist aber gefährlich, sich als Gruppenleiter nicht mit dem Recht rund um Anstellung und Zusammenarbeit mit Mitarbeitern zu beschäftigen. Sonst kann es passieren, dass ein Gerichtstermin die wissenschaftliche Arbeit unterbricht.

Der Professor hatte Glück, denn die Bewerberin hatte andere Pläne, als sich vor Gericht zu streiten. Dort hätte sie ihre Stelle erfolgreich einklagen können, das Mutterschutzgesetz und das Allgemeine Gleichbehandlungsgesetz sind hier eindeutig. Ein gut gelaunter Chef wäre nicht im Paket enthalten gewesen.

Karin Bodewits, k.bodewits@naturalscience.careers