How eBay Helped Me Finish My Thesis

by CHET CHAPIN
Friday, July 28, 2000

http://chronicle.com/jobs/2000/07/2000072802c.htm

I've just started my new postdoctoral position in the neurobiology department of the very university from which I graduated as a cell biologist in May. I'm excited about switching fields and about my new project.

Of course it feels really good to be done with my dissertation, to have given a good seminar talk, and to have had (at long last) a 100-percent positive experience with my dissertation committee.
The talk I gave on my research and the defense that followed went very well. Both the stimulating and collegial discussion I had with my committee, as well as the rapid re-opening of the door to tell me I got to join "the club" boosted my self-esteem and made me feel like I'd earned the committee members' respect as a peer. I'd been told to expect that the whole thing would be kind of anti-climactic, but I have to admit that the glad-handing and signing of the title page (as well as the champagne) felt even better than I'd dared envision.

I knew I was ready to graduate because I had been thinking harmful thoughts about my adviser, his family, and their pets. Per tradition, it took me a few sleepless nights to get my document formatted, compiled, and handed out to my committee. It then took a little more effort to get my talk together. The final push of emotional energy I mustered to get through those last few hoops was essential. Fear of failure did its share to keep me going, but that wasn't enough for me to grind it out on time. How, then, did I keep myself motivated, awake, and focused?

I owe it all to eBay.

I could have relied on the more common dissertation-induced lifestyle changes: getting hooked on cigarettes, drowning in drink, or abusing other self-destructive agents to distract me from the writing process. Instead I consciously opted to try to assuage my psyche with something different.
I developed an addiction to belt-buckle acquisition.

Now if you've never experienced eBay, it's the world's biggest garage sale-by-auction. Pretty much anybody can list pretty much any item he or she wants to sell, new or used, along with a picture and a starting bid. Potential buyers search for the things in which they're interested. Like egregiously big, broken-in Western belt buckles, for instance.

As with other auctions, you bid what you are willing to pay for an item, but the really great (and addictive) part is that the auctions are timed. This means that items that attract multiple interested parties often receive their high bids right as their auction times are about to end. You know you've been outbid by someone only by "refreshing" the item's page, and then you have to enter your name and password to make a higher bid. This bidding process takes from seconds to a minute, depending on your Internet connection speed (and how badly you want an item).

To my advantage, I've found academe to be an environment with faster online connections and fewer firewalls than most home or business Internet service providers. I can wait until literally the last few seconds of an eBay auction to outbid my faceless (and therefore conveniently dehumanized) rivals, often by a negligible sum.

So after writing a bit in the mornings, I'd reward myself by searching out all the desirable belt buckles with auctions that were expiring in the next day or so, and make a note about their final minutes on my personal calendar. I'd set my alarm accordingly, and when the time came, I'd take a brief respite from my continuing intellectual toil and go "out" to see if the price was still right. In many cases it was, and if I felt a need to reward myself and keep motivated, I bid with a lightning flash.

But why belt buckles? My mom's dad had been into lapidary work, making his own bolo ties and Southwestern jewelry. When I was little, visiting my grandparents in the surreal landscape of the Arizona desert was always like going to a different planet, made of beautifully harsh rock formations.
Another reason big fancy belt buckles might have seemed a natural draw was that I grew up in Texas. Although I was never interested in 4-H or F.F.A., I'd started to watch bull-riding on TNN when I was finishing up my dissertation.

In rodeo events, as with finishing a Ph.D., one attempts to put on a short public display that will result (ideally) in glory. In both endeavors, the display is very short considering the amount of time and effort spent preparing for the actual event. And at least half of your success in the graduate experience depends on a combination of 1) drawing a 'good' bull to ride (your adviser and thesis project), 2) anticipating the turns and bumps that can have you eating dirt (technical difficulties and other obstacles), and 3) just plain everyday luck.

For the big weekend-long graduation fest thrown by the drummer in the band I'm in I chose the largest Mexican silver rodeo-style buckle I'd ever seen (for which I had bid ferociously online). It is beautifully framed by a brass-patinaed ribbon and awaits engraving to document some great achievement. But I won't engrave it. I'd rather it retain the potential to symbolize not only the winning ride on the beast I'd just conquered, but also whatever future direction I choose.

So if you're currently writing your thesis or diving into cover letters for jobs or postdoctoral positions, allow me to offer a suggestion: In lieu of habit-forming stimulants or stress-relieving depressants, consider indulging in some procrastinatory behaviors to fuel you through the finishing-up or job-hunting season. I think mine probably kept me out of rehab, at best, and jail, at worst (I was thinking some really bad thoughts about my adviser).

Just don't try to outbid me on the cool Western buckles. I'm making a big postdoc salary now, and I've still got an itchy keyboard finger ...

Chet H. Chapin is a pseudonym. He recently completed a Ph.D. in cell biology at an East Coast university, where he is beginning a postdoctoral fellowship.