We have changed our privacy policy. In addition, we use cookies on our website for various purposes. By continuing on our website, you consent to our use of cookies. You can learn about our practices by reading our privacy policy.
© 2016 Shmoop University, Inc. All rights reserved.


You can still laugh in a subtler way if you want. (Source)

Until and unless you run an academic department or are a sole curator, or fund your own excavation, you're unlikely to get any use out of the megalomaniac laugh you practiced during grad school.

For those of you hoping to travel to Egypt to ply your trade, you'll never be as powerful as the Egyptian government. Not only do you need their approval to enter the country, you'll need to let them see your research and even take whatever artifacts you find if they so decide.

Most Egyptologists report to superiors in their workplace or on their research team; other Egyptologists with more time on the job get a bigger title with more responsibility, and probably more independence.

In the university world it all depends on your status with the department. Without tenure, and with all those newly-graduated Egyptologists beating on the doors outside, you're going to have your hands full just to keep the power you've been given, let alone risk getting more. 

Power will be far more likely to come to you due to accomplishments in your job than as a result of any ambition. You'll work hard for every bit of it either way.

Tenure is powerful, as is running your own dig or curating all the Egyptian objects in a museum. It's relative, though—relative to the institution you work for, how long you've been there, and whether or not you've managed to impress the people there who were powerful before you.