Okay, so first off- Maple Syrup Jim Beam.
What is Maple Syrup Jim Beam, you may ask? Yeah, I'll allow the question. Why not? I'm a benevolent ruler until the peasants try to revolt, at which point they will be dealt with according to their station. But more importantly, Maple Syrup Jim Beam is exactly what it sounds like. It's Jim Beam with some Maple Syrup flavoring (because Maple Syrup is now a proper noun, apparently). Maybe it's actual Maple Syrup! Who knows?
Regardless, there seem to be syrup chunks (thought to be ice or bits of maple tree bark) within the Maple Syrup Jim Beam, and it tastes like someone poured bourbon all over your Waffle House All Star.
Much as I love both Waffle House All Stars and bourbon, I'm glad to have tried Maple Syrup Jim Beam, and I hope that I never encounter it again for fear of what it may do to my fragile psyche, as I'm a delicate flower when I'm not crushing the peasant revolt with an iron fist. And, let's face it, that's most of the time.
Second off, despite my intense efforts yesterday to clean up my room, it's now pretty much a disaster zone again. I got a bed, but I haven't had time to assemble it, as there are some bits that could maybe use a touch of glue or some such. Either way, it's currently strewn about my bedroom while I wait for a chance to put it together. Then, of course, I need to work on moving all of my other furniture to account for the new and wonderful bed. (Seriously- it's a very nice looking bed, or it will be once it stops giving into fear and actualizes its love potential. Maybe using some attitudinal beliefs.)
There are also some very nice lamps for which I purchased bulbs this evening. So, you know, two and a half years after I move into the apartment, I'm finally making some improvements to the decor beyond my smiling face. And, really, what could ever hope to compete with that?
Okay, geez, you didn't have to actually answer that.
All right, all right, fine. I'll get to the actual topic for tonight. As most of you know, I work in a lab. If you don't know, welcome to the blog. I'm Rob. I'll be regaling you with tales of the lab this evening. Yes, I know it says that it's an asylum, but, see, that's where I lived BEFORE I started working with the nice drugs in the room with windows by the hospital.
So, yes. I work in a lab. I do things with stuff, and I say what happened when I did things a certain way with the stuff. Somehow, this ends up being important. Of course, since there are lots of labs and several lab workers/students/drones/indentured servants (because we're paid a LITTLE bit), there has to be some degree of cross-talk and training that goes on. It's part of that great circle of lab, where you train people just enough so that they can take on your project once you've finished (but hopefully not enough so that they can do your project before you finish, because then you lose some of the credit. In an ideal world, at least).
For the last few days, I've been training a couple of folks from another lab. Joseph and Violet, we'll call them, are from another lab. Joseph is a post-doc (i.e., postdoctoral fellow, i.e. he's done with grad school but needs to do more training because that's what people decided has to happen once you get a PhD), and Violet is... well, I'm not sure what she is. Anyway, I've been training them on PCR, which is something that we all do. For those of you who don't know, you take some DNA, you add some enzymes and heat them up, and you replicate a portion of interest in the DNA. I use it to measure the expression of certain genes under different conditions (i.e., I take RNA (which has been transcribed from DNA), isolate it, convert it back into DNA, and then measure differences in the amount of DNA in a gene of interest). They wanted to learn this. They said they knew how to do PCR and just wanted a quick crash course on how we use our instrument.
Never mind that they're going to be using an entirely different instrument in their lab. But, hey, whatever, I can show them how to do it. I do that all the time. It won't be a problem.
To review, here's what normally happens:
1. I harvest cells.
2. I isolate RNA.
3. I convert the RNA into cDNA. Usually, if I start the isolation in the morning, I can get 2 and 3 done in one day.
4. I run the actual PCR. If I'm REALLY productive, I can get 2-4 done in a day. This usually doesn't happen, because classes break things up a bit.
5. At some later date, maybe I look at the data and make some astute sounding hmmmms.
Day 0: I e-mail Violet and Joseph to let them know that I'll be doing some PCR the next day if they want to watch how I do it. We set a time so that I can finish with enough time to go to class. Easy stuff.
Day 1: I keep things pretty flexible so I can show Violet and Joseph how to use our PCR instrument. I'm still not entirely sure why I'm teaching them on our instrument, but whatever. We set a time, and they're a bit late, but that's not a huge deal, because getting things together after the cDNA is just a matter of moving liquid around. You think I'm joking. That's what we do. We move liquid, only very accurately and precisely because we have pipettes.
They have questions, and that holds things up a little bit. No problem, though. I've shown them how to use the instrument, so my job is-
Oh. They want to learn how to do the data analysis. Okay. That's fair.
And they want to see the whole process from the RNA isolation onward. That's not unreasonable. That's part of training, and they need to know how to-
Wait. Wait. Didn't they say they knew how to do PCR? Why do they need my help to-
No. Whatever. Just going to go with it. They're being very nice and emphasizing how they're willing to work with my schedule, which is great.
Okay, fine. I'll be harvesting cells over the weekend, so we'll go ahead and do the RNA isolation on Monday.
Day 2 (okay, fine, it's later than day 2, but you get the idea): I have e-mailed both Joseph and Violet about doing the RNA isolation on Monday morning. It's now Monday morning. They... can't do it I guess? I think Violet was sick that morning. Okay. No problem. I can work on some other things from this batch of cells and do the RNA the next day.
They do make it to learn about the data analysis, and I just walk them through it really quickly. Well, not really quickly because Joseph doesn't seem to be able to get what I'm telling him. I must not be teaching well. They emphasize (again) that they're on my schedule and appreciate what I'm doing to help them. I let them know when I'll be doing the RNA isolation so they can see that.
Day 3: Once again, no sign of Joseph or Violet. I need to do this RNA isolation. I give them a couple of hours before I go ahead and do the RNA isolation.
For reference, the RNA isolation takes one hour and seven minutes if you do the minimum times specified by the protocol and instantaneously remove tubes, transfer liquid, and add liquids for other steps. In reality, it takes about 3 hours if you're quick and don't have too many samples.
I hold off on converting it to DNA, because they seem to really want to see that, even though it is literally:
A.) Find out how much RNA you have
B.) Figure out how much of everything you're going to put into a tube
C.) Press a button
Apparently they need help because we do something special? (Note: We don't do anything special. That's the best explanation I can come up with for why they need to see me do this.) I tell them what time I'll be getting started tomorrow, and they thank me and emphasize how they're on my schedule and are willing to work with me.
Day 4: I have told them when I'm going to get started. I have told them quite specifically, because I have a class to get to that is not close by, and I would like to arrive there on time. Because, you know, I value punctuality.
Forty-five minutes later, they roll in. In their defense, they needed to isolate RNA, but they use a kit, which is faster. (Don't ask me why we don't use a kit, because the answer doesn't make a lot of sense to me.) At the same time, they knew that. I told them when to be there. They were still forty-five minutes late. I start juggling teaching them with doing MY conversion while also working on another experiment (which I end up having to punt to a labmate for one of the steps, since I had to go to class).
Around this point, I notice that Joseph apparently cannot use a pipette to save his life. Hell, the student rotating through our lab (i.e., theoretically the least experienced person in the lab) can tell that Joseph apparently cannot use a pipette to save his life. For example, he needs to get 188 microliters into a tube. He dials the pipette (which has a pretty standard design) to 180 and asks if it's right. Bear in mind, graduate students basically work by moving liquids among containers and making good things happen.
If this had happened once, okay, maybe it was just the pipette. No. He continues asking if he has the pipette set to the right amount. He continues to ask if he's about to pipette the right amount, even though it's written on a piece of paper right in front of him. He keeps asking what the various things on the paper (which is really just an extremely self-explanatory table) mean.
Somehow, though, we get through it. I tell him to be back at 3:05, which is when the reaction should be done, so he can dilute his sample and take it with him. 3:05 comes. Joseph is not there.
I go ahead and dilute all the samples so I can peace the fuck out and get to class. According to one account, he rolled in around 3:25 looking for his samples. According to another account, it was more like 4 o'clock. Regardless, I have told him that I'll be doing the actual PCR the next day, and we're on the calendar for 3, so get there at 2:30 so we can set things up.
Oh, and he thanks me very much for all the help and emphasizes that he's very appreciative and is on my schedule. I really should check my schedule, because apparently it's quite late.
Day Fuck it all: 2:30 rolls around. He's not there. I start working on the plate (and another experiment). I am honestly hoping that I can just have the plate finished and running before he gets there so I can explain that he was extremely late and I couldn't wait for him to get there any longer. Alas, he gets there when I'm only about 85% done.
He still has some strange ideas about pipettes. I explain to him everything on the template, which has the volumes of everything that you need listed on it. He still seems confused. I have to explain the plate setup to him several times so he doesn't end up with a bunch of literally useless numbers at the end of this. Unfortunately, I have to do this last bit about three times before he gets it.
We get the plate running about 45 minutes after I had hoped to start.
He's coming back tomorrow to analyze the data.
I am SO glad that I don't teach as a job anymore.
 |
| That's right, ladies. It's a thing. |
Regardless, there seem to be syrup chunks (thought to be ice or bits of maple tree bark) within the Maple Syrup Jim Beam, and it tastes like someone poured bourbon all over your Waffle House All Star.
 |
| Natural flavors like Waffle House. Little known fact- Waffle House is the next stage in human evolution, after which it's Cracker Barrel and then Steak 'n Shake. |
Second off, despite my intense efforts yesterday to clean up my room, it's now pretty much a disaster zone again. I got a bed, but I haven't had time to assemble it, as there are some bits that could maybe use a touch of glue or some such. Either way, it's currently strewn about my bedroom while I wait for a chance to put it together. Then, of course, I need to work on moving all of my other furniture to account for the new and wonderful bed. (Seriously- it's a very nice looking bed, or it will be once it stops giving into fear and actualizes its love potential. Maybe using some attitudinal beliefs.)
 |
| He's not afraid anymore! |
There are also some very nice lamps for which I purchased bulbs this evening. So, you know, two and a half years after I move into the apartment, I'm finally making some improvements to the decor beyond my smiling face. And, really, what could ever hope to compete with that?
Okay, geez, you didn't have to actually answer that.
All right, all right, fine. I'll get to the actual topic for tonight. As most of you know, I work in a lab. If you don't know, welcome to the blog. I'm Rob. I'll be regaling you with tales of the lab this evening. Yes, I know it says that it's an asylum, but, see, that's where I lived BEFORE I started working with the nice drugs in the room with windows by the hospital.
 |
| Commander Darkfield says that this is all perfectly normal. You can trust him- that's just a deer mask. |
 |
| Crystallographer? We hardly knew her ha ha ha ha ha. |
For the last few days, I've been training a couple of folks from another lab. Joseph and Violet, we'll call them, are from another lab. Joseph is a post-doc (i.e., postdoctoral fellow, i.e. he's done with grad school but needs to do more training because that's what people decided has to happen once you get a PhD), and Violet is... well, I'm not sure what she is. Anyway, I've been training them on PCR, which is something that we all do. For those of you who don't know, you take some DNA, you add some enzymes and heat them up, and you replicate a portion of interest in the DNA. I use it to measure the expression of certain genes under different conditions (i.e., I take RNA (which has been transcribed from DNA), isolate it, convert it back into DNA, and then measure differences in the amount of DNA in a gene of interest). They wanted to learn this. They said they knew how to do PCR and just wanted a quick crash course on how we use our instrument.
Never mind that they're going to be using an entirely different instrument in their lab. But, hey, whatever, I can show them how to do it. I do that all the time. It won't be a problem.
 |
| You can already see where this is going. It's Oh, Bev all over again. |
To review, here's what normally happens:
1. I harvest cells.
2. I isolate RNA.
3. I convert the RNA into cDNA. Usually, if I start the isolation in the morning, I can get 2 and 3 done in one day.
4. I run the actual PCR. If I'm REALLY productive, I can get 2-4 done in a day. This usually doesn't happen, because classes break things up a bit.
5. At some later date, maybe I look at the data and make some astute sounding hmmmms.
Day 0: I e-mail Violet and Joseph to let them know that I'll be doing some PCR the next day if they want to watch how I do it. We set a time so that I can finish with enough time to go to class. Easy stuff.
Day 1: I keep things pretty flexible so I can show Violet and Joseph how to use our PCR instrument. I'm still not entirely sure why I'm teaching them on our instrument, but whatever. We set a time, and they're a bit late, but that's not a huge deal, because getting things together after the cDNA is just a matter of moving liquid around. You think I'm joking. That's what we do. We move liquid, only very accurately and precisely because we have pipettes.
 |
| You may have seen it on your favorite crime drama. They did it wrong. Sherlock does it right. Be like Sherlock. Okay, aside from the sociopathy thing. |
Oh. They want to learn how to do the data analysis. Okay. That's fair.
And they want to see the whole process from the RNA isolation onward. That's not unreasonable. That's part of training, and they need to know how to-
Wait. Wait. Didn't they say they knew how to do PCR? Why do they need my help to-
No. Whatever. Just going to go with it. They're being very nice and emphasizing how they're willing to work with my schedule, which is great.
Okay, fine. I'll be harvesting cells over the weekend, so we'll go ahead and do the RNA isolation on Monday.
Day 2 (okay, fine, it's later than day 2, but you get the idea): I have e-mailed both Joseph and Violet about doing the RNA isolation on Monday morning. It's now Monday morning. They... can't do it I guess? I think Violet was sick that morning. Okay. No problem. I can work on some other things from this batch of cells and do the RNA the next day.
They do make it to learn about the data analysis, and I just walk them through it really quickly. Well, not really quickly because Joseph doesn't seem to be able to get what I'm telling him. I must not be teaching well. They emphasize (again) that they're on my schedule and appreciate what I'm doing to help them. I let them know when I'll be doing the RNA isolation so they can see that.
Day 3: Once again, no sign of Joseph or Violet. I need to do this RNA isolation. I give them a couple of hours before I go ahead and do the RNA isolation.
For reference, the RNA isolation takes one hour and seven minutes if you do the minimum times specified by the protocol and instantaneously remove tubes, transfer liquid, and add liquids for other steps. In reality, it takes about 3 hours if you're quick and don't have too many samples.
I hold off on converting it to DNA, because they seem to really want to see that, even though it is literally:
A.) Find out how much RNA you have
B.) Figure out how much of everything you're going to put into a tube
C.) Press a button
Apparently they need help because we do something special? (Note: We don't do anything special. That's the best explanation I can come up with for why they need to see me do this.) I tell them what time I'll be getting started tomorrow, and they thank me and emphasize how they're on my schedule and are willing to work with me.
Day 4: I have told them when I'm going to get started. I have told them quite specifically, because I have a class to get to that is not close by, and I would like to arrive there on time. Because, you know, I value punctuality.
Forty-five minutes later, they roll in. In their defense, they needed to isolate RNA, but they use a kit, which is faster. (Don't ask me why we don't use a kit, because the answer doesn't make a lot of sense to me.) At the same time, they knew that. I told them when to be there. They were still forty-five minutes late. I start juggling teaching them with doing MY conversion while also working on another experiment (which I end up having to punt to a labmate for one of the steps, since I had to go to class).
Around this point, I notice that Joseph apparently cannot use a pipette to save his life. Hell, the student rotating through our lab (i.e., theoretically the least experienced person in the lab) can tell that Joseph apparently cannot use a pipette to save his life. For example, he needs to get 188 microliters into a tube. He dials the pipette (which has a pretty standard design) to 180 and asks if it's right. Bear in mind, graduate students basically work by moving liquids among containers and making good things happen.
If this had happened once, okay, maybe it was just the pipette. No. He continues asking if he has the pipette set to the right amount. He continues to ask if he's about to pipette the right amount, even though it's written on a piece of paper right in front of him. He keeps asking what the various things on the paper (which is really just an extremely self-explanatory table) mean.
Somehow, though, we get through it. I tell him to be back at 3:05, which is when the reaction should be done, so he can dilute his sample and take it with him. 3:05 comes. Joseph is not there.
 |
I go ahead and dilute all the samples so I can peace the fuck out and get to class. According to one account, he rolled in around 3:25 looking for his samples. According to another account, it was more like 4 o'clock. Regardless, I have told him that I'll be doing the actual PCR the next day, and we're on the calendar for 3, so get there at 2:30 so we can set things up.
Oh, and he thanks me very much for all the help and emphasizes that he's very appreciative and is on my schedule. I really should check my schedule, because apparently it's quite late.
Day Fuck it all: 2:30 rolls around. He's not there. I start working on the plate (and another experiment). I am honestly hoping that I can just have the plate finished and running before he gets there so I can explain that he was extremely late and I couldn't wait for him to get there any longer. Alas, he gets there when I'm only about 85% done.
He still has some strange ideas about pipettes. I explain to him everything on the template, which has the volumes of everything that you need listed on it. He still seems confused. I have to explain the plate setup to him several times so he doesn't end up with a bunch of literally useless numbers at the end of this. Unfortunately, I have to do this last bit about three times before he gets it.
We get the plate running about 45 minutes after I had hoped to start.
He's coming back tomorrow to analyze the data.
I am SO glad that I don't teach as a job anymore.
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