A New Normal

2020, eh? Fucking hell.

I trust that none of you have been in the German Big Brother house, or Jared Leto’s silent meditation retreat, and so you’re likely aware of a slight disruption to normal proceedings called COVID-19.

A couple of months ago, I had a handover (by phone) with one of my colleagues in Wuhan; at the time, her city was the sole epicentre of the new coronavirus. I asked her how things were going. She explained that the situation was strange and pretty scary. As she provided a glimpse of her new normal, I couldn’t imagine anything like that happening in the UK. Not a lockdown, not shortages, not a crisis on that scale.

But here we are.

The past couple of weeks have been surreal; often nightmarish. The illness itself has devastating consequences; adjacent to that is the behaviour brought to the surface by our current crisis. People fighting over loo rolls. Fucking loo rolls. Elderly folks unable to buy their essentials because some selfish pricks have cleared out the eggs and bread and veggies; most of which will probably be thrown away. It’s the situation of our seniors and vulnerable people that’s most heartbreaking. Although collective pressure has forced shops to introduce special opening hours, and the goodness of individuals provides a lifeline to neighbours, friends, and strangers, it’s inevitable that there are Nans and Grandads out there right now without basic supplies. That’s a devastating thought.

I’m always in awe of the great people of the NHS. The doctors, nurses, paramedics, and support staff of our finest institution are miracle workers every day, and in this tiny era of our history they’re nothing short of superheroes. But we’re not doing right by the people who heal us. Front-line staff still don’t have the right protective equipment, and vague promises from the government aren’t changing things quickly enough. And when they finish their shifts, the shelves are bare. Special NHS hours at supermarkets are a great move, but there needs to be something more substantial put in place to provide essential supplies; not only for the physical health of our superheroes, but their mental wellbeing, too.

While we’re on the subject of shopping, big love to all the retail workers dealing with the worst of human behaviour in the past couple of weeks. Long hours, rude bastards, and the possibility of falling ill is an awful lot to deal with. I hope that the inevitable boom in profits - at supermarkets in particular - translates into bonuses, wage increases, and better conditions for our key retail workers. And in the meantime, let’s push for continued kindness, patience, and gratitude shown by good people.

This crisis is, unfortunately, not yet at its peak. It’s hard on the brain. The sudden, dramatic changes to everyday life can be profoundly destabilising. I’ve had a few panicked wobbles – usually in the middle of the night, cheers brain – but as things have developed so rapidly, I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. I suspect it’s the same for many of you. I guess the best approach is to simply do your best when you can; there’s no need to pile additional pressure on yourself.

I wish you, the reader, good health and a peaceful brain during this challenging time. Please take care of yourself and your loved ones. Oh, and stay home! Get involved in Disney+, it’s outrageously good.

See you soon!

My Glorious Return to Clinical Research

Remember that time I handed in my notice and became a writer, for the bants? Turning 30 was a fucking trip, lads. Now, prepare to be shook. I’ve returned to work in clinical research. OH Y’ALL WANTED A TWIST?

Come on GCP, let’s get S I C K E N I N G*.

*Fully compliant.

It’s true. I’ve started up again as a CTA, which might seem a bit strange (more on that later), but I want you to know that I’m really happy to return to a role and industry that feels like home.

You probably have some questions. Using advanced analytics (guessing) I’ve put together a FAQ section, because I’m that extra.


You’ve given up on writing?

Absolutely not. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the past two years, and even if time travel became commercially viable, I wouldn’t change my decision to pursue writing.

The thing is, being a full-time professional writer doesn’t leave a lot of scope for extracurricular wordplay. After a full day of putting sentences together, I’d rather just point at things and make indistinguishable sounds.

I miss blogging. I wish I had time to actually finish the novel I’ve had in my brain for years. I hope that the separation of work and writing will help me to find that spark again.


What’s the career plan?

To be satisfied with the work that I do. No complication, no pressure. Oh, and a healthy shoe fund.


Isn’t it a step down from what you used to do?

In terms of usual career progression, yes. The majority of people in clinical research wouldn’t move from monitoring to a CTA role. That’s completely understandable, if your goal is to keep progressing.

I was a monitor for four years. I had a good go at it, and ultimately it wasn’t for me. I was much happier in a CTA role, because it was interesting, fun, and relatively straightforward.

As a CTA (or ROA, in PXL parlance), I had a clear distinction between work and life. I went into the office, did my job, engaged in quality banter, and at the end of each day, I had optimal time to do life things.

When I became a monitor, those lines steadily and persistently blurred. It’s the nature of the job, and to make accommodating sacrifices, you must either really enjoy monitoring, or view it as a temporary measure on the way to a clinical lead, project management, or line management role.

For me, neither applied. I liked aspects of the job, and I couldn’t have asked for better people to work with. But ultimately, it wasn’t right for me.

And that’s OK! Not everyone will have the tenacity and stamina for monitoring, nor the desire to take on further responsibility in a senior role. I enjoy being a CTA, and I’m actually pretty good at it. I bladdy love site files, and don’t even get me started on the delightful intricacy of TMF naming conventions. Exquisite.


Didn’t you enjoy the flexibility of freelancing?

Totally. I liked being my own boss, and choosing my working hours, but there are downsides.

Firstly, I took a huge drop in pay. Money isn’t everything, but it’s much easier to espouse that sentiment when you have plenty of dollah. I learned a lot about budgeting and self-restraint over the past two years. However, I’m also conscious of long-term financial independence. I can’t buy my own place on a writer’s salary. I can’t treat my friends and family as much as I want to. I also have my eyes on about 5 pairs of shoes. My new job won’t have me rolling in millions (yet), but I’ll be able to put money away for my future while enjoying the present.

Which is a nice segue to the next point. Pensions! Paid leave! Bank holidays! If you want them, it’s on you to factor them in. I’ve been reluctant to take time off because the prospect of losing a chunk of revenue is a big yikes. Which isn’t a healthy attitude. And as my parents have recently retired, I’ve become fixated on pensions. Employer contributions? Stunning.

Finally, security. Specifically, Etta James – Security.mp3. Wait, I mean job security. I was fortunate to have a brilliant client who gave me lots of work, as well as some other regular gigs. But there’s a clause in every freelancer contract that effectively says a client is not obliged to give you work. And that lean month can arrive when you least expect it. Good planning and saving helps, but it’s also pretty scary – and I say this as someone with scant responsibilities. Although some of my fashion choices might suggest otherwise, I’m a pretty risk-averse queen.

In short; yes and no. Long story long.


Are You Going to Change Your Mind Again?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

OK, honestly? I don’t think I’ll change my mind. I’ve experienced both careers and there’s so much I’ve enjoyed about each one. But I view them as extremes; on one hand, the chaos of monitoring, and on the other, the thrilling uncertainty of being a writer.

You know what’s fierce? The middle ground. A role that’s challenging and interesting, without causing anxiety. A job that I can do really well, and leave alone at the end of each working day. An opportunity to find balance and write when I want to. Moderates, amirite?


Three months into my new job, I can honestly say that I'm happy with my choice. Everyone is so nice, patient, and helpful, and although I'm still learning new systems and processes, I feel confident in my ability to do the job well. And that sense of self-achievement radiates into the rest of my life, which is a real blessing.