the HAL9000-esque automated medical job allocation process robot (MTAS) sent me to an interview last week. let me tell you about the moronic sequence of events running up to this interview.
regular readers will know that the Lost Doctor filled in his online application whilst snowboarding in Whistler at the end of january. by doing this i achieved 2 objectives:
1) i managed to avoid everyone at home stressing out immensely about the idiotic questions that needed to be answered
2) being on holiday was a great panacea in reducing my outrage at the idiotic questions
the system crashed due to the sheer number of applicants several times. little space was given for detailing achievements in medicine to date. the details of jobs available were sparse and uninformative. after finally submitting my responses, i was inundated with daily emails informing me how there would be more delays as the system was not getting people's references and that the shortlisting process was taking too long. i overheard one of my consultants two weeks ago saying how she had been couriered hundreds of applications and asked to score them all in a day. she also said how she didn't feel the application form was a particularly good discriminator of good from bad doctors at all and that is was all a "fucking painful joke."
friday (23/2/7) came and i began a weekend of nights. it was a lot of fun because i had the company of the venial sinner (MIA in the blogosphere but very much about in reality) who was also doing nights. at the same time MTAS emailed to say that the shortlist which was supposed to come out that day would only be revealed the following monday. the venial sinner and i decided that after finishing our night shift on monday morning we would go out on a bender to recreate the halcyon student days.
10am monday morning (26/2/7) and tvs and i headed into town for the obligatory caner. at about midday i received a call from vegas who informed me that MTAS had crashed and died again. no-one knew about whether they had been shortlisted for possible employment in medicine in this country for august. tvs and i continued to drink and drink. 2 tycoons (triple sec, apricot schnapps, gin, cointreau, lemonade) and 2 long island ice teas later the eyes were drooping, the gait was ataxic and home and bed beckoned, oblivious to the fact that MTAS was secretly sabotaging the airlock doors.
i woke on tuesday (27/2/7) and went to my outpatient clinic where i checked the website. MTAS said that i had 2 out of 4 interviews. i quickly booked interview times online (gone are the days of someone phoning you) and continued on with a busy clinic.
while awaiting MsD&C's return from work that evening i decided to consult MTAS again (who had by now killed the astronauts in hypersleep) to double check when my interviews were, as in the rush of the clinic i had neglected to note this important detail down. upon accessing his mainframe i found out i had a third interview. attending this interview would require a day off work and a not insignificant train ride. oh yes and it was the following day.
thanks for the notice.
i hurriedly scrabbled together a portfolio with the ridiculous number of things that i had to take there. i also printed out my answers to the questions i had completed one month earlier in canada so i could review them before the interview.
i felt sick.
i read back some of my answers. they were PAINFUL.
when you're writing the twentieth draft of something you become quite dissociated from the content. you're concentrating on grammar and flow.
i was ashamed i could come out with such drivel.
i attended said interview the following day. it was quite funny actually because, finding dry shirts difficult to iron, i said out loud in my flat "fuck this, i'm going to wear the clothes i had on yesterday" and went to the interview smelling of urine and C.difficile.
i hate waiting for anything. being an hour early, i quietly sat in the waiting room drinking water and listening to the five other candidates chat to each other (Dr D&C was ignored probably because he isn't posh enough).
sometimes when you walk into a pub or a bar you can sense an atmosphere of foreboding. in these cases the correct action is to finish your drink and leave quickly without drawing too much attention to yourself. sometimes when you meet someone for the first time you can tell that they are complete utter wankers. in these cases the correct action is to bite your lip and pray they move on to bother someone else.
well these five people were amongst the biggest fucks i've ever met in my entire life.
oh the pain! the continuous, self-serving, droning conversation. the false smiles, the belly laughing, the lack of grounding in any plane of reality. i wished the aliens from war of the worlds would appear and disintegrate them all. i prayed for their unnecessary fountain pens to fly out of their pockets and impale them in their foreheads. everything they talked about was prime, chargrilled bullshit and they were loving it.
and then i realised what it was. i realised what it was about these people that made them all so similarly disgusting examples of our species, and why i was so unfortunate to be breathing the same air as them.
they had all been summoned to this place on the basis of their answers to the stupid questions on the application form, answers that encapsulate their inflated egos and sense of self-importance. i felt like bruce willis at the end of the sixth sense when it dawned on me that i too was one of them. cheapened.
the interview was fine in itself. one of the panels didn't have my application form and so knew nothing about me. the interviewers seemed fair and normal people trying to make the best of a ridiculous situation. at the end of the day it wasn't too dissimilar to any normal job interview. just the getting there, which was marxist to say the least.
and all the way home i couldn't stop thinking about the cunts in that waiting room. this new medical system will roll on because people like them will secure their jobs and then they won't care about their colleagues (if such care ever existed.) there is a protest march on the 17th of this month. do you think any of them will go? course not. they have their interviews. fuck the rest of you.
be warned the UK public. from august your hospitals will have greatly reduced numbers of doctors working at night in an effort to make the NHS balance its books. when you finally do get to see a doctor it won't be someone experienced able to deal with most of your problems. MTAS has ejected these doctors from the cargo hold.
no, what you'll be left with is these five penises, appointed because they are adept in using buzz words such as "motivated" and "empathy" and "nonce." these are the sort of people the NHS of 2007 want to employ. i hope to god i'm not one of them.
people of britain - do not got to hospital after august lest you come across such people in a dimly lit examination cubicle. it is time to stockpile the ibuprofen, turn your kitchen into a operating theatre and find a good VET to look after you when you get ill. medicine in this country has been sold down the river by the government, the royal colleges, our "union" the BMA and our bosses because, as jarvis cocker recently said, cunts are still running the world.
[i am listening to willie nelson]