Listen, yaar, a PhD timeline stretches like a customer who wants "just a trim" before a wedding—five years easily, with fellowships that barely cover rent. The real money comes only if you land a permanent university post, and that wait is longer than the line for my chair on a Sunday morning. I saw the anxiety in my professors' eyes, the constant chasing of papers, and I knew that life wasn't for me. I left after three years because the quiet certainty of sweeping my own floor at night felt richer than any professor's title.
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