I have, in the day and a bit since my last post regarding my Interview (Schminterview), had several polite emails asking exactly how I fared in the Suck It Up and Grovel campaign for my old full-time job back.
Okay, so it was only one email, but I am thankful nonetheless. The executive summary for those who don’t want to read is ‘Probably Okay Enough’.
Honestly, I’m not even sure why I really want the job back so badly, except perhaps to prove that old farts with children can be functional doctors with something to contribute to healthcare-at-large, even if it is only the best combination of ‘ahh’s’ to deal with Banged Knee.
Oh, and the best way to rip off a Band-aid (as fast as humany possible without breaking the sound barrier).
Don’t snicker, will you, about the seriousness of Banged Knee.
Saag will have you know that when your walking is a little on the imperfect side (i,e, she looks pissed when she tries it, and by pissed I am not being euphemistic for anger, but for about ten sherries too many), that Banged Knee is a Real and most Serious injury.
Really.
Or so about a dozen stumbles, followed by careful looks for a possible sympathetic parent and a very predictable LaLa on the nearest floor would have you believe.
Me, I don’t take her so seriously.
It’s an old permutation on the three second rule, the one that goes ‘if it’s on the ground for less than three seconds, you don’t need to clean it’. I love that rule, but getting back to my personal variation, to whit: If Saag takes three seconds or more to decide if she’s actually hurt, well she isn’t.
Accordingly I shall clap up a motherfucking storm and generally play the fool until she decides she isn’t, either.
But, where was I?
Ah, job interview. I was busily trying to distract you from the subject at hand, i.e. I was avoiding trying to talk about the blasted thing.
Suffice it to say that my Campaign Not To Mention the Babies was foiled by the predictable event of one of my interviewers being the very bitch who I distinctly recall screaming so loudly that I had to hold the phone about half a foot from my ear at my dead-baby-and-three-IVF-transfers-whee-TWINS news (pardon my French, but I’ve already contributed to my virtual Swear Jar with a carefree ‘motherfucking’ or two now, so I figure that the b-word shall not shock those that remain reading excessively).
I don’t precisely think she shared my enthusiasm for the possibility of a live birth at the time.
Since the very first distinctly unofficial words in our three question Structured Exchange were ‘How has Maternity Leave been?’, I don’t think she has forgotten me, either.
Also, I struggled mightily not to guffaw out loud at the liberal rewrting of history involved in changing ‘forced resignation’ to ‘maternity leave’. A smirk may have escaped. Possibly.
As for the actual interview questions?
A: Name a value of in our network slogan and describe how you apply it in daily life. (yawn, the acronym is XXXX, and here’s how I bore the pants off all of us with a random anecdote).
B: Describe a situation involving conflict and what you did to resolve it? (well, funny you should mention that…..)
C: Oh My God WHAT DO YOU DO if somebody is having a heart attack? (Easy, check it IS, call for help because we all know a problem shared is a problem halved and if they’re actively trying to die get the crash trolley).
I’ll find out how I went if a few weeks.
Meantime the litmus test is do any of you want to try a coronary on for size and see how I do?































