In the labyrinth of academia, where jargon is the king and complexity its crown jewel, I’ve often found myself knee-deep in the weeds of technical details. So when I am in regular meetings with my advisor to talk about papers, it’s often the case that I got trapped into trying to explain all the maths. It’s a dance of numbers and theories, but the elegance of complexity often overshadows the audience - that my advisor often has to interrupt me and shift the topic back to the general background and insight of the researches.
He was like “Imagine you’re in an elevator with a Nobel Laureate. You’ve got 30 seconds to explain to them your recent research and impress them. You won’t have time to layout the math. Now go.”
At first, this seemed like a task straight out of Mission Impossible. Standing there, nervous crawl in. Like, where do I even start? Do I assume they know the nitty-gritty of econ or CS, or do I start from scratch? It’s a mental gymnastics routine I wasn’t prepared for.
But, as I mulled over it, something clicked. This wasn’t just a hypothetical scenario; it was a masterclass in clarity. Finding that ’lightning point’ in your research, and ignite curiosity in the most unsuspecting minds. It’s like “romancing the elevator”, like a crafted, prepared impromptus speech, where every word counts, and every sentence is a step towards unraveling the essence of your work.
And, I’ve seen this art in action. At a lunch table in Stanford, a PhD student from Princeton had the daunting task of presenting her research to Paul Milgrom. I was there, marveling at how she weaved her narrative - precise, deep yet accessible. It was a performance I couldn’t fathom replicating at the time.
The ability of impressing a Nobel Laureate within an ride of the elevator or a potential mentor at a conference tea break is nothing short of vital. You’ve got to understand your research and other’s mind as well, like breaking the barriers that jargon and complexity build, and letting the true essence of your research shine through. In the end, it’s not just about being understood; it’s about being remembered.