174 SCIENTIST 



deserve it for dreaming up that novel precipitation proce- 

 dure. Take an extra martini for me when you and Betty 

 go out tonight." 



Bill's office hours came to an end in a fairly long con- 

 ference with Assistant Professor Sam Corbin who had just 

 received an offer of an associate professorship at an excellent 

 liberal arts college. Bill never looked forward to these dis- 

 cussions about the career decisions of his friends in the 

 department. It was frightening to think that what a man 

 decided today might determine the whole future course of 

 his hfe, from whether or not he would do any worthwhile 

 research to whether his wife would be happy or bored to 

 death. 



Like other sensible men, Bill had decided long ago never 

 to give direct advice on occasions of this character. Never- 

 theless, he knew well enough that what he said about an 

 individual's future in the department or his chances for get- 

 ting the next professorship to fall open somewhere else 

 would have a considerable bearing on what the individual 

 decided to do. 



It almost always turned out, though, that the people who 

 came to him had pretty much made up their minds and 

 merely wanted to see how their decision sounded to an older 

 person whom they liked and respected. Often, also, the 

 decision was only a half-conscious one, and talking about 

 it made it clearer and more satisfactory. 



Sam Corbin, a good-looking, reasonably extroverted sort 

 of person in a tweed jacket, entered the office as he had 

 hundreds of times before, sat down, and began to fill his 

 pipe. "Well, Bill," he began, "I've just about decided to take 

 that professorship at NiederHn. It's a good school, they've 

 just got a big gift for a new chem lab, and they tell me 

 I can have as much as one-half time in research. Inciden- 

 tally, Gwen graduated there and would love to go back. 



