Exit Interview: Why People Quit Archaeology

The majority of employed archaeologists in the United States, as with most of the western world, work in what is called cultural resource management, archaeological research conducted in advance of federally funded construction projects. Entry level positions in this practice are called "field technicians" and require a Bachelor's degree in anthropology or archaeology, and many archaeologists begin their professional careers as field techs. But the practice of archaeology is not for everyone. In this fictionalized exit interview, a talented cultural resource management field technician lays out her reasons why the job is not a good fit for her.

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Jane walked into Tony's office, and dropped her backpack inside the door.

"Hi. Got a minute?"

Tony turned away from his computer screen, said, "Sure, have a seat. Ready for Monday?"

Monday was the first day of the Anderson Energy Project, a nine-month out-of-state archaeological survey project, in advance of a thousand miles of pipeline.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Jane's voice froze in her throat and she coughed to get it free. "I can't go."

"What? What's going on Jane?" Despite his words, Tony's voice was calm, good-humored. "This is your big opportunity, Janey, $17 an hour, increased responsibility. You got something else to do? Runnin' away to the circus? Win the lottery?"

"I just got an apartment, Tony. The first one I've ever had. Don't even have furniture. I want furniture, Tony."

"You want furniture?"

Jane looked at Tony over her glasses. He was being purposefully obtuse, after three years she recognized the symptoms. "I want a life, Tony. I want to come home from a day's work, make dinner in my kitchen, sit down in my comfy chair. I want an address that isn't a post office box or my parents'. I'm 24, for god's sakes. I want a daily paper delivered to my door. I want to meet my neighbors."

"Oh." Tony stopped smiling. "Yeah, I see. You've been working for me a long time now, you're good at it, you sure you want to quit?"

"I'm tired of motels, Tony. I'm tired of having no benefits and no savings. I'm tired of wearing sunscreen every day of my life and never having decent clothing to wear and... I don't think I like fieldwork any more."

Tony leaned back in his office chair, concern at last in his voice. "What about graduate school, Jane? You've got the smarts, certainly you've got the talent. With an MA you can get a full time job, benefits, afford a house, supervise fieldwork rather than do it. What about that?"

Jane looked at him carefully. He wasn't the kind of guy you might call effusive, and compliments from him meant something. She took a breath, and then looked around his office before answering. It was cluttered with books and half-opened boxes. One whole bookshelf jostled with professional journals. A cork board hanging over his computer was littered with stratified post-it notes, and a handful of pictures, pictures of groups of people in floppy hats, dirty clothes, and sunburns. One framed picture sat on his desk--his ex-wife and their two kids. Sheila had left him because he was on the road so much he'd become an absentee father.

"No, Tony, I don't think so. I'm going into law, or maybe go back for an education degree. Something. I need a life, Tony, and archaeology, the way it's conducted, archaeology can't give it to me."

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Many of the best and the brightest leave archaeology because the cowboy lifestyle doesn't suit them. It is a serious brain and talent drain, and there are no easy answers to resolving it. Do you believe it is necessary to give up your personal life to be an archaeologist?