user: Problem:OPTIONS:
- because they were doing research on research evaluation
- not enough information
- because they were a junior researcher
- because they were British

As academic work is becoming arguably more precarious and competitive, shorter contracts are becoming the norm, and the number of people completing PhDs in the UK is increasing, the risks associated with researching academia are high. This post discusses and explores my experiences of being a PhD student researching women’s lived experiences of research evaluation in the UK, and my thoughts on and experiences of interviewing very senior and esteemed academics as a junior researcher. My PhD study explored research evaluation in the form of the Research Excellence Framework (REF) – a weighty force in UK academia – the outcomes of which, I argue, hold the potential to alter the course of an academic career considerably, as well as playing a role in the type of work that some academics do, particularly given the REF impact agenda. There is currently an international trend towards research evaluation with programmes such as the Excellence in Research for Australia (ERA), the Performance-Based Research fund in New Zealand (PBRF), and equivalents in countries including Denmark, Switzerland and the Netherlands. What is clear is that there is not enough qualitative, exploratory research into the effects of research evaluation on academic careers, especially for women, and so my PhD study was born. My findings suggest that research evaluation in the UK actively contributes to the continuance of gender inequality regimes in the academy, and that the ability to negotiate managerial control and be politically savvy is increasingly important in the academic world. Before embarking on my PhD, I was acutely aware of the sensitivity of my research, as well as my own positionality with regards to my participants. Reflection is and was an important element in the research process for me, as it allowed me to reflect on the effects of the self on the research process and, ultimately, also on the data, as well as the various power dynamics discernible during interviews for my study. I was continually taken aback by participants’... Question: Why was the author aware of their positionality? === The answer to the above question is
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A: because they were a junior researcher


Jenny turned her nose up at me as I sat down, sniffing loudly and filling her nostrils with the strong alcohol stink I was emitting. "So have you been drinking already this morning, or are you just still drunk from last night?" "A little of both," I said. She peered at me disapprovingly over her iced latte. We were sitting at a table in front of a strip mall coffee shop. Jenny was wearing huge gold-rimmed sunglasses and had a decent collection of shopping bags gathered at her feet. "Busy afternoon?" I asked. "Just picking up a few things for Mexico. We leave tomorrow morning." My attention was drawn away by a group of men in black jumpsuits standing around in the parking lot next to a white van with the red Asterion logo painted on its side. It was hard to tell, but I thought one of them was the same guy I'd seen on the Light Rail a couple days before, the one who'd been reading the paper. Jenny seemed to notice my distraction and followed my gaze. "Is something wrong?" "No, it's just those Asterion guys seem to be everywhere now. I guess business must be booming." "Yeah, we hired them last month to archive our old financial records," Jenny replied. "They came in and hauled everything away, I was so happy to get all that empty space back. Of course it doesn't really matter now, since I'm going to have to find a new job when I get back from the honeymoon. "Anyways, I'm rambling," she admitted good-naturedly. "So what did you want to talk to me about?" "I wanted to ask you about someone I met last night." She bared her teeth ecstatically in a knowing grin. "Really? A woman, I presume." "Settle down, it's not like that. She's just a girl who said she can help introduce me to Dylan Maxwell." "Was it Natalie?" she asked. "I don't know. She was wearing a motley dress and a black veil." "Yep, that's Natalie," Jenny confirmed. Question: How long did Jenny shop? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- ten minutes
- 3 hours
- not enough information
- forty-five seconds
3 hours


Problem: OPTIONS:
- It is not sophisticated enough
- It is not very expensive
- not enough information
- It is classy and expensive
Q: “What was your worst makeup disaster?” Do fingernails count? I hope so, because this is a good one: I was 21 years old. I worked for a major commercial airline. A friend of mine and I decided to go to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. It was our first trip to Puerto Rico. The hotel at which we stayed had a lovely (classy/expensive) restaurant serving continental fare. So, we decided to have our first dinner there. We dressed to the nines. Our hair and makeup were perfect. I had fake fingernails (not acrylic - those were fairly new back then. I had the type one glues on). Those fingernails were long, and painted a very bright - and obvious - red. When the waiter came to take our drink order, we both ordered glasses of wine. The waiter brought the wine, set it down on the table, and waited to take our meal orders. I smoked back then, and at the time, smoking was still allowed in restaurants. In a 21-year-old attempt to look classy and sophisticated, at that moment I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, picked up my lighter, and lit my cigarette - or so I thought. Unfortunately, my long, red, fake thumbnail got in the way of the flame, and it caught on fire. The waiter’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He froze in place. I was horrified. The flame was literally shooting up from my nail! And smoke; the nail was plastic! Quickly scanning the table for the closest thing with which I could extinguish the flame, I spied my glass of wine. As nonchalantly as possible, I stuck my thumb in the glass. There was a sizzle as the flaming nail hit the wine. When I withdrew my thumb from the glass, the nail was melted, black, and curled under. Ever the professional, the waiter regained his composure and proceeded to take our orders without missing a beat - but I’m sure I was the talk of the kitchen for the rest of the evening. So much for my attempt at appearing “classy” and “sophisticated”…. Question: What does the narrator think of th restaurant? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:

assistant: It is classy and expensive