"You have to get this job!"
Joshua: Kathleen claims that she never said this. But through the haze of a nasty cold, that's how I remember it. It was back in the spring of 1999. Kathleen and I were engaged and on the market together for the first time. After four years of a long-distance relationship, we were feeling desperate to solve our two-body problem. Finding jobs near each other was particularly important, because our wedding was scheduled for the following year, and we both wanted to live together before getting married.
We were in a hotel room in a large Midwestern city. Kathleen had just finished interviewing for a tenure-track position in chemistry at a nearby campus of the local state university. The interview had gone well, and she was quite excited about the possibility of teaching there.
I was sick as a dog and two days away from an interview in the psychology department at a different campus within commuting distance of hers. To make matters worse, Kathleen had been offered 14 on-site interviews. I, in contrast, had one. My adviser had predicted that my 41 job applications would net numerous interviews and my choice of competing offers. It was becoming painfully clear, however, that he had overestimated the irresistibility of my vita.
Kathleen: Joshua and I were approaching the market from two very different directions. I was in my fifth year on the tenure track at a regional state university in the West. Joshua was finishing his dissertation at a well-known research university 600 miles away. I was applying for jobs only at teaching institutions, and Joshua was applying mainly to universities with Ph.D. programs in his field.
We also faced the dilemma of whether to mention our two-body problem to potential employers. Joshua decided to be silent. I thought looking for a job just before the tenure decision needed some explanation, so I elected to be public. I anticipated that any harm would be outweighed by resolving concerns about why I was leaving my current position.
As the season progressed, we realized just how tenuous solutions for academic couples could be. Not only was geography an issue, but so was timing. To guarantee a solution, we needed two geographically compatible offers within just a few weeks of each other. We had been extremely lucky to land two interviews in the same metropolitan area three days apart. Best of all, I was really impressed by the people and the facilities where I was interviewed, and the teaching load was quite reasonable. My reservations about leaving my current position had vanished. The timing seemed perfect. Maybe this solution was meant to be.
Joshua: The next morning I still felt awful. So I drank half a bottle of DayQuil, hid cough drops in my suit pockets, and made my way to campus.
The two days of interviews were miserable. I coughed my way through endless one-on-one meetings. With a distinctly foggy brain, I struggled to remember the names and research interests of the professors and graduate students. The cold may have provided one unanticipated benefit, though. I was too sick to be nervous, and I thought my well-rehearsed job talk went smoothly.
When the airport shuttle finally drove around a corner (and out of sight of the psychology building), I passed out.
That evening, I arrived back home, once again 600 miles from my fiancée. And I entered the purgatory of waiting.
Kathleen: I received word first. The news was mixed. I was the department's second choice. If the top candidate turned the job down, the department was going to offer the position to me. I remained hopeful, as the top candidate was interviewing elsewhere.
A few days later, Joshua got a phone call. He had gotten the job at the other campus and had two weeks to come to a decision. He planned to accept his offer only if I received one. Now, it seemed our fate depended on the success of someone else's job search.
With some trepidation, I checked in with the chairman of the department. I wanted to update him about Joshua's situation and find out what the timeline looked like. The good news: The other candidate had not yet accepted. The bad news: He had asked for, and been granted, a three-week extension.
Joshua: I contacted the chair of my search committee, explained the situation, and asked for an extension. It was denied. The department was very concerned about filling the open position and was ready to offer the job to the next person in line if I declined.
Now, I faced a dilemma. What if I turned down my offer and then Kathleen was offered the job she was so excited about? She had already turned down numerous site interviews because my prospects in those geographical areas either never materialized or were no longer in play.
On the other hand, if I accepted the offer and Kathleen did not get the job, it might limit our options for next year. Would it be unseemly to take a job and immediately go back on the market?
But what else was I going to do? I had no other offers and no other interviews. I could delay my dissertation defense and spend another year in graduate school. But would my prospects really look much better in a year?
In the end, I accepted the position. I felt ready to start the next phase of my career, and all these considerations aside, I really liked the department that had offered me a job. A few weeks later, we got some bad news. The other school's first candidate had accepted the offer. Kathleen and I would be apart for another year.
This led to our next dilemma: Do we postpone the wedding? It seemed imprudent to get married having never even lived in the same time zone. But were we willing to postpone our lives indefinitely while we searched for that elusive solution to our two-body problem?
In the end, we decided to get married. Our experience on this year's search made us realize that our careers were only one part of our lives. We still hoped to find a pair of academic jobs, but we refused to put our other plans on hold.
Next: The importance of compromise ...
