A few years ago I knew a competent PhD biochemist, who in a fit of mid-life pique, decided to pursue his dream of owning a brewery after being laid off from his pharmaceutical job. His unfulfilling marriage to a successful physician, the pressure of raising two trophy sons, and a bruising lay off from a prestigious job, seemed to propel his unrealistic dream of making it big as the brewmeister of a scientifically produced exceptionally crafted beer. Defying all logic and business acumen, he proceeded backed primarily by his wife's and other investor's money. Indeed, initially things seemed to be heading in a positive direction-he took top prizes at the State Fair for his micro-brewed beer. That is, until his marriage crashed, the economy tanked, and the competition of over 250 other equally impressive microbreweries in the county overwhelmed his crafted cathexis. His brewery was outgunned by his competitors: under capitalized, poorly marketed, and naively managed, he continued to throw good money after bad attempting to sustain his burgeoning business nightmare.
The problem with most intelligent scientists is they are impeccably trained to persevere in spite of obstacles or until the research funding runs out. Their hubris does not permit them the insight that, because they are successful in one area in life, they might not be successful when they are out of their league in another area. Probably the biggest Achilles heel of any scientist is a reluctance to foresee failure. The Scientist Brewmeister knew he was not all that great when it came to business but continued to raise funds from investors, even when all signs were indicating his brewery was as solvent as the S.S Titanic. As a member of MENSA, he was too smart to fail.
Coming from a more humble background, I listened to the Scientist Brewmeister's stories of endlessly seeking investors and knew his desire for beer-driven success and prestige was a pointless exercise in futility. Not being a businesswoman, I could see he was way over his head. He was a small fish in a big pond of more moneyed, established, and popular craft beer entrepreneurs. The sign on the wall was not big enough for him to walk away before disaster struck. We drifted apart but I wondered how long it would take before his world would come crashing down.
This week I read an article in a local paper how the Scientist Brewmeister put his brewery up for sale last year. He had hoped a larger craft beer company would financially absorb him but continue to allow him keep his craft brands. That did not happen. To prevent foreclosure he sold off 90% of his brewery, kept his brands, and is now trying to keep alive producing beer for his small biergarten in an industrial park way off the beaten path. One does not need to be a psychic to know this a last ditch attempt to stave off the inevitable. Going from scientist to beermaster/bartender in a biergarten has got to be a stinging consequence of his poor business acumen.
The Scientist Brewmeister is now close to sixty. Divorced from his largest most pissed off investor, financing two kids in college, and facing the demise of the last of his dream, his world has collapsed. This is not the happily ever after story he envisioned. He admitted his choices were to go back to the pharm industry or be a beer consultant. Re-entering the traditional marketplace after being away from academia and the pharmaceutical industry for more than a decade he will discover the true cost of his mid-life crisis. Sixty years of age is ancient in a data-driven, publish or perish world. A highly competitive marketplace awaits the advanced degreed in this millennial world.
Underneath the hard crustiness of most emotionally detached scientists, there lurks a great deal of insecurity covered up by arrogance and delusions of intellectual invincibility. The Scientist Brewmeister is a lesson in how pride goeth before the fall and how a high IQ does not guarantee success.
Because of my background in vocational consulting, I knew his mid-life fantasy, financed by his ex-wife, would likely end up in ruin. It is well known in vocational counseling that starting a business is the least successful vocational option once someone loses a job because of it having the highest percentage of failure. Frequently people who take this option do not have the entrepreneurial verve to make it work and usually won't listen to reason. It is a sad footnote for me that there was nothing I could have said or done to have prevented his fall. I wrote him to tell him how sorry I was that he lost so much. No reply is expected.
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