Impact Factor
Sometimes you come across a paper that is easy to read and genuinely insightful, yet carries a low impact factor. Even if it holds the exact knowledge you need, you hesitate to cite it. In academia, impact factors matter. So, you move on.
First Encounter
The elevator was used by everyone, including the guy from the adjacent lab. He was usually surrounded by a group, but that day he was alone — hurried, flushed, and visibly sweating. You needed to go two floors up. You didn’t know him, and he certainly didn’t know you.
Your PI was in the lift with you both, needing the floor below yours. When the doors slid open, Sir stepped out. Instinctively, the guy made a panicked movement to follow him. Before you even processed what you were doing, you extended your arm, barring his exit.
You had no idea where he actually needed to be, but a stern voice escaped your throat: “It’s only the first floor.”
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He scrambled back, face turning deep red. His fluster gave you an unexpected surge of confidence.
“Are you new here?” you asked.
“No,” he muttered in a quiet voice, eyes fixed on the floor.
You gave a single nod, and heavy silence engulfed the remaining ride.
Subsequent Encounters
After that, you kept catching glimpses of him. Away from the elevator, he seemed impossibly shy around his friends — friends who suddenly made a point of looking at you whenever you walked by. To survive a Ph.D., you have to possess sharp observation skills; you knew immediately that he had told them, and that he clearly liked you.
Multiple spottings in the corridor, silent glances, his friends elbowing him as you passed. But you are trained to target papers with higher impact factors to include in your work. So, you ignore the paper you actually preferred. Because in the end, impact factors matter.
