An Email that Demands A Response

As you walk out of psychology, you realise that there’s an email in your inbox from Professor Styles titled “Research Assistant Work.” You quickly read through it, and though you were expecting this, you do a quick fist-pump, causing Vishal to give you an odd look.

“What’s up?”

“I think I just got my first research job,” you say, showing him the email.

It’s not very long, just a quick description of research agenda, an overview of what you would be doing and hours, ending with a simple question: “I know you weren’t 100% last time we spoke, so let me know if you have any questions. I’d love to have you on our team. Are you interested?”

“Hey, that’s awesome,” Vishal says, passing you back the phone. “You going to take the job?”

“Oh, you bet,” you say, beginning to type out a response to it. Vishal heads off in a different direction, having something else to do, while you find a spot to compose the rest of the email. It takes you a couple minutes to draft the simple email, as you find yourself writing and rewriting the draft, but one thing stays constant—your intention to accept.

Eventually, you shrug and send off the email. You already have the job, right? Why was writing that email so hard?

Less than a minute, your inbox goes off again. It’s a response from Styles! And it’s short:

Awesome to hear, Alex!

Come to the lab as soon as you can. Let’s chat and get you set up.

Amanda Styles

You were planning to hang out with some friends, maybe get some work done, but you can’t really turn down your new boss right after accepting the job, so you head over to the chemistry building. Styles’ lab is located in a small room on the third floor of the brick building, with her office adjoining the room. It’s not even really a lab in the sense that it’s a space where people could run actual experiments—the only equipment in the room is the three desktops that you see the other researchers working away at. The screens look imposing, filled with lines of code

You knock on the door to Styles’ office, and she waves you in, a bright smile on her face.

“Welcome to the team! I’ve got a project that I think will be great for you,” she beams, giving you a quick welcoming hug. You hardly have time to register the feel of her breasts pressed against you before she’s rifling through a stack of papers. “Like all my projects, it’s heavily computational in nature, but this one’s a joint project with the folks over at Stanphord! It’s super cool, some cutting edge simulation work on the cage effect in reaction dynamics!”

“The cage effect is a way of thinking about molecules in a solvent right? Like each molecule is trapped in a cage?” You feel a little nervous asking the question, wondering if she’ll get mad for asking about the basics of what the research is even about, but getting any confusion out of the way early has to be better, right?

“Exactly! You’ll become much more familiar with it over the next few weeks, I’m sure. I’ve got all the paperwork signed here, so you take this small stack and work through it when you get the chance,” she says, passing you several stapled documents, “but really I want you to get working as soon as possible! So let’s head into the lab room.”

She gets up from her chair and crosses the room to push open the door, revealing the lab. Two of the students are older guys, clearly either grad students or post-docs, and they give you friendly waves that you return.

“This is Jamal, and that’s Abdul,” she says, introducing them. “They’re working on different projects from you, but feel free to ask them for help anytime, I’m sure it would be their pleasure.”

The two of them nod eagerly, smiling widely, and you wonder if they’re always in such a good mood. Then, the professor turns to the last person in the room. The girl is typing furiously away at her computer, getting down lines of code like there’s no tomorrow, and Styles clears her throat.

She types for a second more, and then swivels around in her chair, long dark hair whipping to the side. You meet her sea green eyes, and a moment passes between the two of you.

Styles +10