The second he walked out of my office, I started to type an email to our doorman —hoping to reaffirm the rules for not letting people come upstairs without actual emergencies or appointments. I was on the fifth paragraph when Emily and every single doctor in the practice simply walked into my office without knocking.
“Am I living in the twilight zone, today?” I looked up at them. “I could’ve sworn the number one personal rule that I have here isn’t that hard. When my door is closed —”
“Leave me the hell alone,” they all said in unison, laughing.
“We know you weren’t coming to the conference room to make the welcome call for our new resident, so we decided to bring it to you.” Emily picked up a Twizzler from my stash without asking and stuffed it into her mouth. Then she dialed a number on my desk phone, while the other doctors all crowded around my desk.
This is definitely the twilight zone ...
The sound of a call ringing came over the speaker phone and a woman answered in the middle of the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello!” All the doctors said in unison. “This is Park Avenue Wellness Group!”
They rehearsed this?
“Natalie, this is Dr. Laurel speaking,” Our world-class, but never-in-her-office gynecologist said. “We’re very excited to welcome you into our family as a resident and we just wanted to give you a collective call before you started. We know your desired specialty may change over time, but we’re all one big, happy family here, so we’re looking forward to meeting you and working with you.”
“Wow ...” The resident I didn’t vote for or want seemed impressed. “Thank you, so much for the warm welcome. I really appreciate it.” She sounded happy.
“We really appreciate you, too,” Emily said. “Are you still open to coming in for your first tour of our practice this Friday?”
“Absolutely. Five o’clock, right?”
“Yes! Five o’clock. Can’t wait to meet you on Friday, Natalie! See you then.”
“See you then. Thank you all so much.”
“You’re welcome!” The doctors said in unison once more, something else they’d clearly rehearsed, and then they slowly dispersed from my office.
“Did I hear you say that you can’t wait to meet this Natalie resident?” I asked Emily.
“Yeah. Why?”
“The doctors agreed to hire a resident without even giving her an interview? Isn’t conducting an interview the first rule of hiring?”
“I swear you never listen to me,” she said, shaking her head. “Manhattan Medical had an error in Human Resources. I told you about it months ago. Long story short, we got an amazing resident in the deal, and Dr. Laurel and Dr. Taylor actually did meet with her on several occasions. They just didn’t let her know what they were really interviewing her for, since Manhattan Med wanted to keep their screw-up a secret.”
“How convenient.”
“Extremely.” She stole another Twizzler from my vase and finally shut my door.
I knew now that there was no way I was going to make it all the way to next Friday without some form of stress relief, so I pulled out my phone and logged into NewYorkMinute. I was scrolling down to JERSEYGirl7’s name in my inbox to ask if she’d be willing to meet earlier, when I noticed she was already in the middle of sending me a message.
Jerseygirl7 is typing ...
JERSEYGIRL7: Hey. I might have a question ...
D-DOCTOR: Hey. I might have an answer ...
JERSEYGIRL7: Are you open to meeting me this Friday instead of next? Would you be able to reschedule some of your “appointments”? I’m already going to be in New York in the evening for a meeting that day, so I figured I’d ask.
D-DOCTOR: Yes, I’m very much open to fucking you this Friday instead of next. That’s not a problem at all. Same time?
JERSEYGIRL7: Same time. Oh, and do you want to finally exchange pictures so you’ll know who to look for/vice-versa?
D-DOCTOR: No, let’s keep it interesting ... See you at 8:00. I’ll be sitting at table number 12.
THE RESIDENT
New York, New York
Natalie
On Friday, I stood in the lobby of a glittering, glass building that was nestled in between two condominiums on Park Avenue. There were a few black sofas and chairs artfully placed around the marble floors, and an elevator at the center with shiny, silver doors. The words “Park Avenue Wellness” were etched onto a wall across from me, with a long list of doctor names underneath.
This definitely doesn’t look like a private practice ...
“Excuse me?” I walked over to the security guard. “I have a tour scheduled for this evening. Which floor do I need to go to for the Park Avenue Wellness Center?”
He raised his eyebrow, as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking or not. Then he laughed.
“All of the floors are part of the practice, Miss,” he said, hitting the up button. “You’re probably looking for Miss Emily, though. Sixteenth floor.”