How do we decide to do the things we do? A timeless question asked and answered in uncounted ways throughout the millennia. A question asked again and again as we live, learn, evolve. How do we decide to pursue a higher education? Once we go to college, university, post-grad school, how do we decide which career to choose? As we complete our education, how do we decide if we should share our academic knowledge with our peers by teaching the younger generations or if we should draw on our theoretical understanding for practical applications?

At a glance, the increased flexibility and a freedom of action associated with the research conducted in academic settings may be quite alluring. During my undergraduate years, the ‘academic dream’ came complete with well-deserved summers off after having had spent the fall and winter semesters teaching and shaping the minds of future experts.

My graduate level experience, however, shed a different light on my views of the idyllic lives of university professors. As a graduate student in a medium size neuropsychology and electrophysiology laboratory, I learned that the well deserved summers-off I had once envisioned were really just a dream as, in reality, this time was invariably used by most university professors to catch up on research projects, work on future publications, and write yet another large set of grant applications to ensure sufficient funding for their labs. Once the summer semester started, all ideas about teaching and shaping the minds of generations of scholars turned into fast forgotten, easily discarded chores.

I recognized that the ostensible independence of the academic world relied on a perpetual race to publish, successful grant submissions, and internal politics coupled with a variety of harsh, unattractive realities. Finally, the practical side of my personality admitted that the ‘academic dream’ came with too high a price tag. But, if not an academic career, then what? As a clinical neuropsychologist, I relished the prospect of finding a position in a hospital or in private practice. As a trained researcher, I rebelled against the prospective of a career devoted solely to clinical practice. If not an academic career, if not a career as a clinician, then what?

When I recall the manner in which I opted for a career in the pharmaceutical industry, serendipity is the first word that comes to mind. According to Wikipedia, serendipity represents the pure luck involved in discovering things you did not look for or a phenomenon whereby something unexpected and useful is found while searching for something else entirely.

Although, at one time or another, I had briefly examined the possibility of seeking employment in the pharmaceutical industry, I had not seriously considered this option until the day a friend of mine brought it up over coffee and croissants. At the time, she worked as a research scientist in the central nervous system therapeutic area in the pharmaceutical industry and explained that her job relied almost equally on her clinical neuropsychology training and her research expertise. The answer to my question was clear; if not an academic career, if not a career as a clinician, then an industry career that offered the opportunity to apply all my knowledge and skills without the need for compromise.