Beyond Useful: When Being the Swiss Knife Backfires

We all know this person. Or we are this person. You troubleshoot broken connections in the lab, fix the department printer, teach undergrads how to use the Nanodrop and pH-meter, and share all your best Excel hacks. Congratulations: you're the Swiss Army knife of your lab. But guess what? That’s not a compliment — it’s a warning sign: you already do too much.

The Swiss Army Knife

Multi-skilled colleagues often get praised as "essential" or "lifesavers." What that really means is: “You’ll do it because you can, and no one else will.”

You didn’t train to be everyone’s tech support, editorial assistant, and emotional crutch — but here you are. The job description said "postdoc," not "catch-all." You've become your department’s safety net, quietly catching all the tasks that fall through the cracks. Not because you asked for it, but because you're the kind, competent one — and the people pleaser.

At first, it felt good to be useful. But soon, what started as occasional help becomes a steady distraction from your actual work. It shifts from a kind gesture to a silent expectation.

They’ll do it anyway, at some point.

These extra contributions won’t lead to a permanent position. The same skills that keep the lab humming are often invisible to hiring committees. You're helpful — but only until your contract ends.

👉 Alert: You will go from being a Swiss Army knife to a dry and run-out glue stick — once useful, now ready to be trash.

The Leggy Hard Drive

You remember the Wi-Fi password. The protocol version that actually worked. Who’s allergic to bananas. Where the backup pipette tips are stashed.

It’s not in your contract, but it’s in your brain. You carry the cognitive burden that keeps the team afloat. Meanwhile, your own work gets squeezed into the margins of your day.

Helping is fulfilling. But sometimes, it's just too much. And that feeling is valid. Some information and responsibilities should not rest on the shoulders of one person alone. You’re not Atlas. This isn’t your task or even less should not become your punishment. You weren’t meant to hold the sky on your shoulders*.

* A bit of culture here: The Titan Atlas was punished to carry the sky by Zeus, not the world. You’re your own Zeus. So be kinder to yourself. Or at least, choose your god-level duties a bit more wisely.

The Magnet

It starts off as praise:

"You’re so organized! A natural mentor! Everything looks easy when you do it!"

Then comes the creep:

"Can you fix the printer again?"

"What’s the sample number again?"

Competence becomes a task magnet. Like a positively charged ion in a sea of free electrons, you start attracting tasks just by being there. Competence creates polarity. You’re calm under pressure, fast with spreadsheets, and know where the coffee filters are. Of course the electrons (aka coworkers) rush toward you.

But remember: magnets don’t choose what they attract. And when you absorb too much, you don’t just get overloaded — you demagnetize.

And when it's time to update your CV? There’s no tidy bullet point for “Printer whisperer. Held the group together with duct tape, hand-made cards, 3-layers cake, and emotional intelligence.”

The Broken Magic 8-Ball

You say "yes" because you care. Because you want to help. Because maybe you’re a woman and feel expected to "maternize" the workplace. Because you're from a cultural background where saying yes is the default. Because you don’t want to be labeled as difficult. Because you’re a people pleaser. Because you are afraid to say "no".

But every yes has a cost. It chips away at your evenings, your focus, your grant time. And it’s rarely reciprocal.

You are like a broken Magic 8-Ball stuck on “Yes.” No matter how many times you shake it, it always lands on the same answer — even when you really want to say “Not this time.”

👉 Mini-strategy: "Let me get back to you on that." It’s polite. It gives you time to evaluate. And it keeps your calendar from collapsing.

The Swiffer Duster

And let’s not forget the emotional labor. You are the unpaid therapist of the area. People confide in you — about their frustrations, their family, their burnout. Not because you seek it out, but because you're approachable. Even the most socially distant colleagues find comfort in you. And while it's heartwarming, it's draining.

You can’t keep absorbing the emotional static of your entire lab like a Swiffer Duster. It’s okay to say:

"Can we talk after 17:00 tomorrow around a drink? I really need to focus right now."

It's not rudeness. It's self-respect.

👉 Tip: Meaningful friendships grow outside the office. Save your energy for deeper, mutual connections — maybe with a well-owned free beer after work from your colleague, for your therapy-out-of-your-personal-sh*t payment.

The Soft Skills Trap

You organize meetings, soothe students, create engaging PowerPoints for lab socials — all without formal recognition, except maybe a heartfelt thank-you from some close colleagues.

These aren’t "extras." They’re essential. But because they don’t come with citations or grants, they’re sidelined.

Soft skills aren’t soft. They’re structural glue. But they get listed as “bonus” traits in job ads — nice to have, not needed to have. Worse, we often don’t see them ourselves. We think being irreplaceable means being safe. But when funding runs out, even the most beloved colleagues get dropped.

Fixing the System vs. Fixing Yourself

The burnout isn’t your fault. Academia is not built to reward hybrids. It runs on generalists but promotes specialists.

There are job ads asking for a biologist who can code. But if you picked up diverse skills across fields instead of specializing narrowly, it's seen as scattered — not strategic.

What we need: clearer job roles, better recognition of soft skills, and systems that help us to highlight them. And for you? Boundaries aren’t selfish. They’re survival. Place them.

👉 Alert: You’re juggling flaming torches while balancing on a unicycle — and still expected to smile. Maybe it’s time to step off and hand someone else this olympic torch. I mean, even Snoop Dogg got to carry it — so clearly, anyone can. Learn to let it go (signed, the person still stuck in the “trying to learn how” phase).

Toolbox To Help Out

• Track the invisible. Log your extra tasks and how long they take. Set a threshold. Maybe 5%, maybe 15% of your time. But make it intentional.
• Delegate. Share responsibilities. Don’t be the sole historian of your lab.
• Redefine helpful. Real help is sustainable — not self-sacrificing.**
• Rest. You are not the department’s backup generator.
• Create visual aids. Notes, sheets, and flowcharts help others take ownership. Yes, it may reduce your "irreplaceable" aura — but that’s a myth anyway. Contracts end. Gratitude fades. Protect yourself.
• Internet materials. There are many available to help you understand your soft skills and how to highlight them for new jobs.

** I remember one time in particular when I felt I had to say "yes" to driving three coworkers to the airport for a work trip we were doing together — a 90-minute trip each way — because, well, “you’ll be reimbursed for the time, gas, and parking anyway.” It felt like torture. I hate driving 60+ mins distances with the weight of other people’s lives in my hands — and even more so when they’re not family.

P.S. If this hit a nerve, you’re not alone. You’re just over-functioning in a system that quietly runs on the unpaid labor of the most competent people, and which is not only work-directed competences, but human related ones. And they are essential to keep the good vibe around. Because we are humans after all and spend most our lives at work. So let’s stop romanticizing burnout — and start documenting its cost and controlling its actual costs on our proper sanity.