A tale from a bygone era, when anthropology was something wholly other from what it is today. Still, it may have some bearing on the particular circumstances described in Matt Thompson’s post.
In the late 1960s the Chicago anthropology department was not a warm and fuzzy place for graduate students. It was, in fact, a shark tank. Swimming among those predators, however, was a small coterie of especially fearsome critters: Clifford Geertz’s dissertation students. These were future luminaries in their own right, including Jim Boon, Paul Rabinow, Dale Eickelman, Larry Rosen. Tough to catch the ear or eye of the master in that bunch. Happily, I avoided advisee-hood (though I did take several unforgettable courses from Geertz) and focused on parts of the world where Geertz had not done field work. A good friend of mine, however – Tom – wanted to do field work in Morocco and so signed on with the master. His field work didn’t go well, and he left Morocco well before the obligatory year or two. By then I was safely insulated from the drama, tucked away in the tropical forests of South America. When I resurfaced, I found that Tom had left the program. We next met at an AAA annual meeting; Tom had decided to attend with thoughts of getting back into the game. That didn’t come to pass; by then the job market had tightened up mercilessly.
But during our talk he told me a story I remember to this day. All through his college and graduate student days, Tom had pursued a passion for fine woodwork. Even at a young age, he was a craftsman. When he bailed from graduate school he did what many dream of: making a vocation of something he loved doing. He went to work for a specialty furniture business, and with his skill became an established member of the firm. Then something curious began to happen, something that brought him to that disappointing AAA meeting. When he went home after work, he found himself keeping a notebook of what had gone on that day, tracking the activities and then trying to write them up in a coherent account. He was, yes, producing an ethnography of his workplace.
Whatever you wind up doing, it’s likely that anthropology gets in your blood. It’s an itch that can’t be scratched.


Best wishes in your new profession. I do hope that one day you come to realize, as I did, that the way we make a living and our interest in anthropology need not be the same. We are human. The people we work with are human. An anthropology that encompasses humanity includes us, too.