“It’s not whether you get knocked down. It’s whether you get up.” Vince Lombardi
It’s no secret most cultural resource management archaeologists give up. CRM is a hard field in which to build a career. Recently, I came across this post written in 2000 on the United Archaeological Field Technicians newsletter (I’ve only paraphrased it because the whole rant is over 500 words long):
“I am out of Arch forever,
and I am looking forward to the real life. I’ve been doing arch since I was a pup. Pretty motivated and interested 100 percent. Did the BA, got the MA, been in Central America, Southeast, mostly research early on, CRM later. Tons-o-experience, multidisciplinary, yada yada yada. But now after all this time, I really have nothing to show for it except an outrageous student loan bill and a worthless piece of paper (now out of glass frame) that I use for TP now that I live under an overpass. Outside of the myopic anthro discipline, your anthro degree is the source of hours of laughter in real world, real money, corporate boardrooms and post-graduate job markets…
I tell ya, Archaeology sucks. I am sorry but it does. If you are going into archaeology GO into business school or go tech. In a perfect world, it (arch) is cool, but for some reason the biz seems to attract more of the worst of two kinds of people. There are the cool, very social and brainy, undergrad-grad creative types (the solution). And then there are the dull, mindless, megalomaniacs who have only two speeds, slow and out-of-control (the problem). These are the people the CRM companies hire for upper and middle management. If there was a cool PI, VP or other I haven’t seen them in 12 years in the biz…
I am tired of living out of a backpack, staying in the cheapest roach motels in desert border towns, eating gas station burritos and returning unused per diem. You all have to be tired of seeing high school dropout ditchdiggers fetching $30-40/hr to your educated $8.50? The fun of the science just isn’t worth it. You have got to make a decent living wage or you will be homeless by the time you are 40…
Respectfully,
an ecstatic ex-archaeologist :)”
This is really the way hundreds of field technicians feel about the job they’re doing. I know because it’s how I felt a lot of the time when I was a field tech. The whack hotels. The “no vegetable towns” (communities without a single store where you can buy fruits and vegetables). The pathetic PIs that can’t get a project without lowballing it who force you to, somehow, make it so. And, perhaps the biggest bone of contention, the low pay.
These factors create a perfect storm where most aspiring archaeologists burn out and bail on the industry. There are ways it can be ameliorated, but the industry can’t provide an awesome job for every single Millennial who graduates with an anthro degree.
Creating a career in CRM archaeology requires hustle. Not just working fast but Hustlin’ the Rick Ross way (well maybe a legal version of his Hustlin’):
Most importantly, you have to keep on keeping on if you want to make it in CRM. For every dozen field techs that flame out, one gets promoted to field director/crew chief. For every dozen field directors that give up the ghost, one gets promoted to PI. Every company that goes out of business opens up market share for an entrepreneurial archaeologist to try their chops at providing quality jobs for field techs (FYI: It’s harder than you think).
If becoming an archaeologist is your career goal, the most important thing is to always keep moving forward toward your goal. I know the pay is shi*ty in the beginning and it’ll never approach Wall Street banker wages. I know there are a lot of disrespectful companies and horrible projects. I know you probably won’t make as much as your friends that got degrees in “business”. But you’re not trying to make a mint. You’re trying to figure out what life was like in the past. Discovery is what motivates us all.
If you give up on your dream to become an archaeologist, regret will be your lifelong companion. It’s one thing to get slapped down by life, but it’s entirely another thing to get back up and keep fighting.
Climbing Rainer: A Tale of Regret
I made a Mount Rainier summit attempt in 2008. At 14,411 feet, Rainier is the tallest peak in the lower 48 states. I nonchalantly made a comment about climbing Rainier while driving down Interstate 5 from Seattle to Tacoma.
I was en route to a cultural resource management project and, for the first time, spied the bluish-white glacier that covers Rainier. “I wonder how long it takes to climb that mountain,” I said out loud. My co-worker just laughed. “People die up there. Rainier is no joke,” she informed me. “Most people don’t make it to the top.”
Her jovial dismissal of my question solidified my resolve. I was going to climb that mountain. I was going to make it to the top and live to talk about it. The fear of death wasn’t going to stop me.
After surfing the internet for information on climbing the mountain, I realized it was going to take some training. I needed to get in shape if I was going to come even close to the summit. For about 9 months before the climb, I followed a rigorous training schedule: jogging, pilates, yoga, and strength training. I quit smoking and bought a new pack. I struggled up several steep, smaller peaks weighted down with 5 to 7 gallon milk jugs filled with water—emptying the water at the summit and jogging back down. I even did some practice hikes on Rainier’s glaciers, cruising to the basecamp at 10,000 feet with ease.
Then came the summit attempt. My climb was led by guides from Rainier Mountaineering, Inc. who gave me a one-day crash course in mountaineering and provided all the expertise I needed to make it to the top.
We climbed from the Rainier Lodge parking lot to Camp Muir on the first day of the attempt. I made it with no problem. After a briefing, we all settled down to eat a nearly frozen dinner and get some sleep in the lodge.
That’s when my whole trip fell apart.
I didn’t know this until Rainier but I don’t do well above 10,000 feet. The altitude gives me a splitting headache and my sleep is fitful. The bunking conditions at Camp Muir also made it extremely difficult to sleep. The bunkhouse is filled with about 20 other snoring, breathing, whispering, excited mountaineers who didn’t exactly sing me a lullaby.
I didn’t’ sleep at all that night. The guides woke us up at midnight. They told us to grab some breakfast and get ready to climb. Gear check was in 30 minutes.
Exhausted, I did my best to keep my mind in the present and get my equipment together. I also did my best to choke down something to eat—instant oatmeal—and suck down a cup of tea (I was advised against drinking coffee).
The excitement of the climb to come was the only think keeping me going at this point. Starting out cramponing across the frigid glacier in the dark was unnerving to say the least. We never had any idea how close to the edge of a deadly precipice we were walking or how deep the crevasses we were crossing. I watched the sun rise over eastern Washington and, at that point, I realized how high I was. It was exhilarating.
As exciting as that sunrise was, I was weakening. For the last 4 hours I’d been pulling the guy that was roped up to me. “It’s dangerous to not have a little slack in the line,” my guide kept telling me. “Pick up the pace.” “Sorry,” I panted, “I’ll try to do better.” The rope pulled at my waist with every rest step as I clomped up the mountain. At one point, the guy behind me actually fell down and I had to pull hard just to keep him from sliding.
After more than 4 hours of climbing, our guide realized it wasn’t me that was holding up the rope. The guy behind me was a trucker who had spied Rainier while he was driving by and thought it’d be nice to climb the mountain on his day off. He contacted Rainier Mountaineering and rented all the gear necessary to make a summit bid. With no physical preparation, he’d TOTALLY underestimated how hard this was going to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize this until I’d dragged him up 2,000 vertical feet.
The trucker turned back around 5AM and I was free to climb again, but the lack of sleep and intense physical effort had taken its toll. I was thinking about going back with the trucker. My rope leader saw the look in my eyes. He came over to give me some inspiration: “I know dragging that guy tired you out, but you’re less than 1,000 feet from the top. You look like you’re in good shape. You’ve been training for this moment. I know you can do it if you dig deep and just keep walking.” I decided to keep walking.
Our next break was around 7:30. By this point, I was gassed. Some other climbers were in worse shape than I was and the guides were assembling a rope to take them back down the mountain. If I didn’t go back with this rope, there wouldn’t be enough guides to take everybody to the top. A whole group would have to go back down if I decided to bail, including folks that were still physically able to make it to the summit.
This was my last chance. If I didn’t throw in the towel I felt like I’d be endangering my entire group. What if I fell? What if I gave up at the next rest station? I’d be stealing the joy of making it to the summit from some other folks. It was a hard decision to make. What if I couldn’t do it?
I chose to give up. I threw in the towel and walked back to Camp Muir.
What if…?
My failure on Rainier has periodically rolled around in the back of my mind for the last 7 years. I know I was on dangerous ground, might have gotten hurt, and may have hurt my fellow climbers. I know I’d been pulling another man up the mountain, but what if I’d kept on climbing? Would I have made it to the top? Did I truly give my 100%?
Would a Rainier summit change my life? Probably not, but at least I wouldn’t have the regret of knowing that I came close but didn’t make it to the summit.
The effort, money, pain, and exertion that went into that Rainier attempt were more than I’ve put into any other physical event I’ve ever done. I was fit and probably could have done it. The look of disappointment on my rope leader’s face when I made it back to Camp Muir said it all. I knew I’d given up. There was nothing I could do about it except shake off the feeling of regret and make another summit attempt. Climbing Rainier is still on my to-do list.
If you’re going into archaeology, be ready to get slapped down by the job market, clients, employers, and life in general. Be ready to do tedious work with unsavory characters in some of the sketchiest conditions in America. Be prepared for calloused hands, sunburned ears, cracked toenails, and perpetually dirty fingernails.
Although the hardships are unique for archaeologists, is there any career field where you won’t experience hardship? Is there any job you can do for somebody else where you will never get laid off, fired, outsourced, sequestered, or otherwise unemployed? There’s nothing wrong with bailing on a career in archaeology as long as you don’t have any regrets. Archaeology is not for everybody.
But, escaping the problems of the CRM industry doesn’t mean you won’t be subject to tough conditions in another industry. The conditions explained by the “ecstatic ex-archaeologist” are simply part of being a grown up in the United States. They may be unique to CRM archaeology, but low pay, low/no benefits, and constant threat of unemployment is the nature of our country. What do you think that well paid ditchdigger is going to do when she/he’s too old to dig ditches anymore? It’s not like they can be a principal investigator and run archaeology projects like the “ecstatic ex-archaeologist” with a college degree could have.
It’s not how many times you get kicked down in life. It’s how many times you get up. You only have to get up one more time than you get knocked down in order to succeed.
Nobody cares about our excuses in life. No one is interested in why we give up. Other people are only interested in our accomplishments.
What do you think? Are you willing to go the distance for a career as an archaeologist? Write a comment below or send me an email.
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Overall I agree with you. It’s pretty standard in every industry to be terrible pay, work conditions, stability, etc. Especially when you are starting out. However, I think that this issue in CRM goes beyond just that. I have been told on many occasions that “It’s like this everywhere.” I have never found that to be the case. I have never interacted with another industry that had these issues on the level that CRM does. It’s not so much a blissful ignorance of the issue. It seems more like a gleeful challenge to make the industry as unbearable as possible. It’s probably a good strategy to push people out given that the industry is inundated with workforce.
We hear plenty of people leave, but how many come back? If it really was like that in every other industry I would think that those people growing into their adulthood and go back to archaeology because it’s something they love.
I do agree though that I’m tired of hearing people complain about it. Like it or don’t. No one makes you do archaeology. There are a lot of things I don’t like and these days I’m pushing my company so that I can pick and choose the stuff that I like.
PS You might want to fact check the Rainier tallest peak thing.
Jon,
Thanks for reading and thanks for the quick fact check. Rainier is the THIRD tallest peak in the lower 48 after Mt. Whitney (14,505) and Mt. Elbert (14,440). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_the_highest_major_summits_of_the_United_States Rainier has the greatest prominence of the Lower 48 peaks. I stand corrected.
I really don’t know what to say about the dysfunction in CRM archaeology. It is rampant and I have been abused by a number of different companies in the past. I think our lack of business savvy really hurts our industry as does the fact that, for the last 50 years, CRM has had a “crab in the bucket” mentality– each firm/PI/marketing department tries to pull down its competition by lowballing and cheating employees. This turns our work into a commodity that can be bought at the lowest price possible. We know we need a change but do not know how to reform the industry. Personally, I think going the full heritage/ environmental conservation route is our best hope because it makes our services part of every community’s campaign to improve its quality of life. Currently these services are provided by environmental quality and historic preservation offices for most municipalities. I think CRMers can partner with local universities and offer these services to communities. We need to become imbedded in the local area and have demonstrable case studies of how we make things better for the city/county/state.
This tactic wouldn’t help every anthro grad but it would provide good jobs on the local scale in a number of different fields (cultural anth, rehabilitation, real estate development, planning, design, biology, geology, and marketing, for example).
Nobody I’m aware of is doing this right now, but that’s the strategy I plan on taking for Succinct Research. Keep reading the blog if you want to see how it turns out.
I have to keep you honest! The topographical prominence is not joke on that mountain though. Which was your point.
I think you’re right about it being turned into a commodity. As a result, I think the people paying for it see it as an option. Environmental Resource Services seems to do a good job of documenting the how their service provides tangible benefits. Archaeology always seems to hold their cards close. They need to find a better way of engaging the community and showing the harmful affects so that their services will be seen as necessary.
Your comment made me think about a blog post about playing poker and doing CRM. Interesting.
You are exactly right about our lack of engagement. I think part of the problem is our lack of communication skills and networking outside the CRM industry. How many CRMers do you know that try and cultivate relationships with other small business owners, local developers, or local real estate professionals? The connection is obvious but we tend to spend all our time doing archaeology, thinking archaeology, and dreaming archaeology. Getting out into the community should be our next step.