Them: "Did you watch it?"
Me: "I saw a part of it this morning. But that was too much so I stopped."
*silence*
Me: "Did you?"
Them: "I ain't gon' even lie. I did. I kept saying I wasn't but I did."
*silence*
Me: "You okay?"
Them: "Define 'okay.'"
2/ Me: "I hear you. Retract that."
*silence*
Them: "Know what? I actually don't even recommend you watch it. 'Specially not the real bad parts."
Me: *listening*
Them: "Plus you got manchildren. It'll fuck you up too much." *covers mouth* "I mean, mess you up."
Me: *nods*
3/ Them: "Dude was a hunned-forty pounds. Prob'ly soaking wet!" *shaking head*
Me: "Even if he was 3-fifty he didn't deserve that."
Them: "But got damn! A hunned-forty? Maaaaane. That's fucked up." *raises brow* "I mean messed up."
Me: "Nah, fam. It's just what you said."
1/ If bright-eyed, bushy-tailed neophyte faculty me had joined @EmoryGIM with the process described in this @JHospMedicine piece? I am certain that I would’ve been promoted far sooner.
Especially as a woman and a minority.
For us? This piece was personal.
Let me explain.
2/ There are so people in academic medicine working super hard but not getting any closer to promotion to senior ranks.
Yup.
When I started, I just assumed that as long as I kept showing up, one day a trumpet would sound and someone would tell me it was time to “go up.”
3/ So I enthusiastically took on institutional committees, did my clinical work with zeal, and said “OK” to anything that might “look good on my CV.”
Yup.
But what I didn’t realize is, without a plan, not only would my efforts feel Sisyphean—after a while I’d surely burn out.
Him: *stops* “Umm, Miss Doctor?”
Me: “Sir?”
Him: “I just want to be sure that’s how you want your sock and your pants leg to be.”
I pause and look down.
2/ My pants leg was jammed into my sock. My sock that I pulled from my son’s sock basket. The Superman one with a hole in it. That didn’t match my other one.
Him: “I wasn’t trying to be in your business but something told me that wasn’t the look you was going for.”
*laughter*
3/ Me: “I love you for this.” *reaching down to adjust my sock*
I stood back up, stopped and faced him.
Me: “Thanks, sir.”
Him: “It’s okay. I could tell you having one of them hurry-days.” *chuckles* “I remember them days well.”