Thanks… er

DISSECTING ROOM

LIFELINE Lee Hartwell Lee Hartwell is president and director of the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle. He is also a professor of genetics at the University of Washington. His research in yeast genetics has shed new light on how and why the cell cycle goes awry, a process that can lead to the uncontrolled growth characteristic of cancer. His insights into cell-cycle control are being used at the Hutchinson Center to develop treatments for cancer and other diseases. Who was your most influential teacher, and why? A high school physics teacher who diverted me from the streets of Los Angeles by challenging me with special problems that were really fun to think about. Others came later, Bob Edgar, Boris Magasanik, Renato Dulbecco, Marguerite Vogt—but I would never have met them without the first. What would be your advice to a newly qualified doctor? Forget the pressure to be productive; work on whatever captures your interest. How do you relax? Walk the dog and watch videos; not at the same time. What is your favourite film, and why? I have two: Leolo, because its premise is that all lives have a meaning; and All that Jazz for its portrayal of a consuming passion for creativity. What is your greatest fear? That I have risen beyond my level of incompetence. What books are you not reading? Harry Potter book three. The first two were amusing, but enough is enough. Do you believe in capital punishment? Are you referring to my investments in the Nasdaq? What is your favourite country? France, where people understand that life is more than work. Describe your ethical outlook We are all doing the best we can and probably exactly what was intended for us. Do you believe in monogamy? My life is complicated enough with one woman.

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Thanks . . . er nce upon a time, I had a name. If I’d done something well at work, someone might say, “Thanks, Daniel”, or occasionally, “Well done, Daniel”. If I’d done something badly, or, more often, too slowly, I might hear “Daniel, have you sent that proof/fax/ e-mail yet?” But whether I was being praised or castigated, my name was always used. There’s nothing like the personal touch. How times have changed. For 9 months now, I have worked on a freelance basis as a writer and subeditor. Although I do nearly all my writing from home, subediting tends to be a more hands-on affair. This usually involves going into an office every day, like a permanent employee. Owing to the higher rates of pay given to freelancers, publishers often resort to them in a crisis—when a deadline has been brought forward, or a permanent employee has unexpectedly left. Freelancers are like a publishing SAS—a crack team brought in to rescue a floundering publication and heroically get it to press. Fulltime employees have mixed attitudes towards freelancers. On the one hand, they tend to romanticise. “I’d love to go freelance”, people often whisper to me, “but I just don’t have the guts”. Through the bars of a permanent job, the freelance life seems to offer much: freedom, variety, Kerouacian chic. Permanent employees imagine freelancers taking time off at will, or e-mailing articles from laptops at poolsides or on mountains—with just seconds of their deadlines left. In reality, of course, most freelancers work as hard and methodically as anybody—haunted as we are by the ghost of unemployment. Freelancers never know when the work is going to dry up (which it invariably does, often without warning). The golden rule of freelancing, then, is to take on everything, which means that 80% of the time you are overloaded. Better than being underloaded, is the logic.

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Freelancers are often eyed with suspicion: as aloof, shady, non-committal creatures. Who do they think they are, breezing in and out like that? And then there’s the money. Freelancers usually get paid more—for writing, subbing, or just making the tea. This can cause a touch of resentment. But people forget what freelancers miss out on: sick pay, holiday pay, health insurance, a pension fund. Freedom has its price. How do freelancers perceive their permanent counterparts? It depends. Sometimes we find ourselves working for a publication that makes us green with envy. From the freelance wilderness, we covet the cosy jobs of the permanent staff. “If I hang around here long enough”, the thinking goes, “perhaps they’ll take me on”. The flipside is relief. Some companies are so dreadful that even completing a 2-week assignment is a struggle. At such times, we find solace in the misery of other freelancers. “Are you freelance?” we gingerly ask at the fax machine. “I am. Are you?” The conversation then takes a familiar shape: “Yes! Thank God! I thought I was the only one. Isn’t this place awful? How can they work here?” Most publications have their secret society of freelancers. We walk among you constantly—often without you knowing it. And we’re multiplying rapidly. In a global economy, companies have to be competitive. Why pay permanent staff monthly salaries when you can parachute in freelancers as and when you like? The relationship between permies and freelancers is an edgy one. But names are a great help in the war of diplomacy. There’s nothing worse, as a freelancer, than hearing, “Thanks . . . er” when you’ve got something done. So if you do work with freelancers, write down their names on post-it notes. Offer to make them a cup of coffee. We’re human too, believe it or not. Daniel Davies

THE LANCET • Vol 356 • October 28, 2000

For personal use only. Not to be reproduced without permission of The Lancet.