Life of a Lab Rat

After a couple of intensely annoying days in the lab, in which I've had to clean unnameable gunk from two centrifuges, as well as gibber in Cthulhuian fear at certain stupidity (which is like certain death but much, much worse), I've come to the conclusion that the problem, the real problem these days, is that laboratory neophytes are not scared enough.

Back in the day, I was left in no doubt as to what might happen if I screwed up in the lab. In today's whale-hugging politically-correct and peace-loving brown rice world, such attitudes are unheard of, and the laboratory, actually, seems rather anaemic. New students are told — sorry, they're not, they're shared with — how to use interface with a piece of equipment, and how sad and disappointed everyone will be if they do something wrong sub-optimal.

I think that it's much more effective to say,

"Do this wrong and you will die"

with a side-order of,

"and if, by some miracle you survive, I myself will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

Sounds harsh, but by gum you learn how to balance a centrifuge, and just how much it is worth your while to clean up your own mess and use the booking sheets because the lab tech is really really scary. And everybody's happy, or at least considerate to everyone else, which amounts to the same thing.

Those stains on my labcoat? They're actually blood — and it's not mine.