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October 25, 2007
A colleague reminded me the other day of a project that he and I had worked on back at the Wonder Drug Factory seven years ago. "Seven years ago", I thought. . .I was the project leader on that one, trying to keep things alive as weird toxicology kept torpedoing everything. In the end, we held it together long enough to get four compounds into two-week tox testing, whereupon every one of them wiped out for yet another set of ugly reasons. Ah, yes. No one's going to have to work on that stuff again, that's for sure.
Hmm, I thought. What was I doing seven years before that? Well, I was back at my first drug industry job in New Jersey. The company had just moved into a new building the year before, and the old site was on its way to becoming a Home Depot. I was spending my days cranking out molecules hand over fist. Boy, did I run a lot of reductive aminations. It's safe to say that during those years I ran the majority of all the reductive aminations that I'll ever run in my life, unless something rather unforeseen crops up. We made thousands of compounds on that project, and I remember pointing out in a talk that nobody makes that many compounds if they really understand what they're doing. This was not a popular line of reasoning, but it's hard to refute, unless saying how much you don't like something counts as a refutation.
And seven years before that? Still in the lab. I was midway through grad school, wrestling with the middle of what turned into twenty-seven linear steps by the time I pulled the plug. (At this point, I began to reflect that I've been doing chemistry for quite some time now). In 1986 I didn't know that I wasn't going to end up finishing the molecule, and I was still hauling buckets of intermediates up the mountainside, only to find them alwyas mysteriously lighter and smaller by the time I got to the top. My response, naturally enough, was to start with larger buckets - what else was there to do?
And seven years before that? That finally takes me over the chemistry horizon, back to my senior year of high school in Arkansas, and to what might as well be a different planet entirely. Although I was interested in chemistry - as I was in most all the sciences, something I've never lost - I'd never heard of a Grignard reagent, and I didn't know what a nucleophile was. Counting up, I see that some time next year will mark the point at which I will have spent a slim majority of my lifetime doing organic chemistry, which is an odd thought. And it makes me wonder what I'll be up to seven years from now. . .
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