Your daily dose

As promised, here is another rant from the whining wife. (As the husband puts it: "You are writing negative thoughts, so you don't have to think them.")

Today, she got to show off her skills as "The Performing Postdoc" in a variety of interesting ways. In the morning, she was interviewed by a Qinghua journalist, where she did her best to provide the answers that would make her superiors smile. Unfortunately, they were not there to give any indication of how well she did. Anyway, she managed not to say anything about awkward dinners, but instead rambled on about various types of Chinese cuisine and of course about how smart the student in our institute are, as this is in fact a sure-fire smiling-of-superiors-inducing truth.

After this, both of us were session chair, which we did our best to do in the most unobtrusive way possible, by making boring introductions and making sure we did not ask any questions.

The highlight of the day was the so-called reception, aka yet another one of those seemingly never ending evenings of toe-curling entertainment. The wife got to be the host again, and she managed yet again to seem completely non-cynical in her introductions of the performances. She is however coming across and feeling less and less enthusiastic and more like a performing monkey. Oh well, even our fearless leader is seemingly fed up with the whole thing, because he refused to even make a toast and made Anke do it instead.

Finally, I can report that the husband and wife have attained near-"Performing Professor" status. As evidence, we submit: (i) we were the only postdocs allowed to sit at the professors table tonight, and (ii) during the obligatory photo shoot we had front row seats with the professors, whereas all but one of the other postdocs had to stand somewhere in the back. (By the way, if you ever get to see these photos which have Anke in them (there should be 5 of them from different occasions by now) and are wondering: yes, it is true, Anke has only one shirt.)




OK, now I feel really bad, because this whole affair is being held to let other people know that this is not a bad place to be a postdoc, and now all of you (I am looking at you, Tim!) will tell the people who visited that in fact the postdocs are raving lunatics that are made to perform like monkeys. Which is true but is better kept quiet.


P.S. The husband thinks "The Performing Postdoc" should be the perfect title for an opera. Anyone feel inspired?

P.P.S. The husband would also like to add that he is planning to release a Youtube video of an earlier night of delightful entertainment. We'll be sure to let you know once that is available.