Today, I applied extra lipgloss, perfect eyeliner, and blow-dried my hair. I went to ask a restaurant manager for a waitressing job. You see, the stakes are high – I’m desperate for even a minimum wage job. This is in spite of the fact I have several university degrees.

With my final PhD draft due in a week, I have degrees in economics, sociology and politics, research skills in qualitative and quantitative methods, teaching experience at universities, a decent publication record, and a significant conference list of presentations. But now I need lipgloss and cafe connections to get a job.

It might be my own fault for having bought into the lie – study hard, get a good job. While I was always warned that full-time academic roles are difficult to attain, I was told that a PhD is an asset. We can get casual research work until we are qualified or, more accurately, connected enough to step into a full-time position. Employers outside the university will value the transferrable skills and critical-thinking capabilities.

This, I have now discovered, is far from the truth. Employers external to the university don’t want a PhD, they want five years of industry experience. Other employers consider me overqualified for basic research tasks. They don’t want to pay the higher rate of employing a PhD.

For those that might scoff, consider the fact that despite my education, I have been living on a scholarship valued just above the poverty line and volunteering my time and research skills to NGOs throughout the course of my doctorate. Ingrained within PhD students is a tendency to work hard; value the experience of the opportunity; and work a significant proportion of the time for an amount nowhere close to what we have trained for.



So, I worked hard. And as my PhD is drawing to a close, I faithfully applied for research work. Causal, part-time, full-time, university, NGO, you name it, I applied. I applied for graduate programmes, requiring only a credit average bachelor’s degree. I applied for administration. I applied in the media industry and in the public sector.



I didn’t even get shortlisted for an interview.

The truth of it is what the university doesn’t tell you. You learn along the way that research, including that produced by PhDs, brings in cash for universities. More PhDs are beneficial for an institution reliant on government funding. But they compete on graduation for fewer jobs in what was an already competitive field. The time spent on producing our PhD effectively renders our previous degrees useless – no graduate employer wants a degree from four years ago.

In Australia, where I study, the emphasis on research production increased. As a result, a number of academics, who had a teaching-only focus, were required to leave my university. A significant proportion of these academics who had focused on teaching were women.

Those wishing to retain an academic job were required to conduct their research in their own time, without a funding budget to support it. This also proved harder for women who still tend to bear the majority of childcare responsibilities. It’s also harder for those from low-income backgrounds, who maintain other work to support their ill-paid academic endeavours.

The pursuit of more funding is also evident in the way universities chase more student enrolments, perpetuating the notion that a degree will guarantee a good job in spite of the oversupply of education. Students are encouraged to select specific majors which will benefit the university. I’ve been requested from the higher ups to grade on a curve since easy grades encourage retention, and I have been prevented from failing students.

When I first started my PhD, I ran a conference desk with someone who had completed her doctorate. What struck me at the time was how bitter and jaded she had become. Working causal tutoring jobs, she was failing to find full-time academic employment five yearsafter completing her PhD. I was confused and told a mentor, who explained that this can happen and that frequently PhD graduates will be exploited with regard to our time and work.

However, she pointed out that no one will employ an individual who appears disgruntled or complains. Therefore, she concluded, just keep smiling and carry on. More perniciously, my mentor also considered that all academics are already aware of the failures of the system, the exploitation that occurs, and the mental health crisis that accompanies it. Aware, and yet so embroiled in the system that action is not only not taken, but actively discouraged in favour of adhering to the status quo.

So, here I sit, a disgruntled graduate of the system. A PhD turned waitress. A waste of taxpayer money, of my own time and that of the people who taught me. I write this as a means to speak out, as I refuse to be another cog in the wheel that turns according to a code of silence. What’s more, I share my story, as I’m sure I know I’m not the only one who’s emerged from the system bewildered, lost, and with a bitter aftertaste of having been cheated – all in the name of funding.



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