Best incentive ever for finally taking your laundry in? Only having thongs left for underwear. Seriously, who invented these effing things?? Wait, nevermind, it was a man. And I hope he is currently being forced to wear one for all eternity. In Hell. Nothing like being consumed with the urge to yank at the butt floss doing it’s best to saw you in half while interviewing, and attempting to maintain at least the barest facade of empathetic interest in, an ailing individual earnestly relating the exact amount, color and consistency of their sputum. Should’ve just worn the swim suit bottoms again……
Thong, thong, thong, thong, WRONG......
Successfully resisted the urge to parade around the clinic, purposefully, repeatedly sauntering by Dr. Pedia-jerk’s* office with my giant cup of Starbuck’s in hand this morning. I think this means I’m growing, you know, as person.
*Dr. Pedia-jerk: Dr. who gave me a B on a test last year just because I brought a coffee. At 0700. (A coffee which I politely sat next to my chair and did not slurp, guzzle, and/or wave threateningly at any point during the exam. Tyvm.) He hasn’t seen me without coffee. Which looks something like this…..
Yeah, wonder what my grade would have been if I showed up looking like THIS.....
He also “warned” an attending about me. He’s qualified because, you know, he’s met me exactly once. Luckily, the attending considered the source.
One of the nurses (A real Veteran, Tyvm) mistook me for the new IM attending this morning. So I’m thinking I can take this one of two ways:
#1) I look old (Which, to be perfectly honest, I am actually probably – okay, most definitely – older than the new IM attending.).
#2) I look like I know what I’m doing.
Feeling uncharacteristically optomistic today, I’m going to go with 2.
Right, had to have been the air of authority I was exuding......
Best way to get your (slacker – yeah, yeah, I know you’re busy “saving lives” and stuff) attendings to finally hand in your letter of recommendation? Food. Preferably, placed prominently in the center of their desk, where it can stare (hard) at them and remind them what a thoughtful, concientious, hard-working individual you are and how bad they feel about not dictating your (d*mn) letter already. You’ve put in long hours faithfully following them, observing their every move and habit. Think hard, consider carefully (Remember that cookie you saw them not-so-subtley stealing from the nurses station? The apple they eat at lunch every day? The slight, unmistakable bit o’ drool you observed when they watched you scarf down two breakfast sandwiches that one morning?) and hit ’em where it hurts.
Thaaaat's right, look at the delicious cookies that I worked so hard (i.e. bought and put on a plate) to make for you. Feel the guilt, burning, burning....just pick up the dictaphone and make it aaaalllllll go away......
Aaaaaaand, done with my one full hour of actual work for the day. Back to sitting in the library for the next eight hours waiting for my attending to give me something (anything) to do, and compulsively checking my phone every 2 seconds for interview offers. Have decided this rotation was specifically engineered to make impatient, high-strung people who find the idea of “free-time” distressing, insane (-r).
Aside from yesterday when I said screw it, went home, ate cereal, watched TV and napped all day. This, is my life.