Interview trail: a bonus note

(This winter, Y traveled around the country interviewing for a residency position. I've been writing about his travels. For more notes from the interview trail, click here.)


Today was the day we found out whether Y matched. Not where he matched, just whether or not he actually has a spot somewhere.


I've been waiting for this day for months. 


Not because I was worried about Y matching. I knew he would.(He did.)


I've been waiting for this day because Y told me that as soon as he found out he had a place somewhere, I could tell you this story:





It was a rainy, almost snowy, day in December and Y was at an interview in Pennsylvania. Not just any interview - an interview at one of the most prestigious programs in the country. It was just after this infamous night (to recap: flight delayed 4 hours; arrives at hotel at midnight to find he has no bed), and despite the less than optimal sleep he was on his game. Ready to impress.


The doctor conducting the interview looked down at his file. "You're from Louisiana, I see. Where else have you interviewed?" Y ticked off the list he had gotten so used to reciting.


The doctor nodded. "What made you interview at places so far from home?"


Y was relieved. He liked it when the questions were about his desire to experience something different from the South. He enjoyed sharing his love of travel. He had his answer fully prepared, but played it cool.


"I just, you know. I just wanted to spread my legs."


Silence. 




Shit, he thought, I played it too cool. 






And that's why I don't think we'll be moving to Philadelphia. 

match day is march 16th

You guys. Match Day is so soon. We have dairy in our refrigerator that expires after Match Day.




And we are within the window of when it's appropriate to send the traditional Match Day greeting card. 



My last interview trail entry may have been posted last week, but it actually happened over a month ago. It almost feels like the whole thing never happened - the sleeping alone in my scary house, the rodents living in my walls, the portrait of Jack Black at the Boston MFA, the getting mistaken for a prostitute in St. Louis (while wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I might add). Without having to make trips to the airport every few days, we've had a lot of time to think about where we might like to live for the next 3+ years -- and I have the massive, multi-city pros and cons list to prove it, with items like:

  • Ike would have to wear snow boots (pro!!)
  • Gooey butter cake (pro!)
  • Pro baseball teams (pro!)
  • Home of the most famous minor league baseball team in America (...neutral)
  • We could wear cheese heads at Match Day (pro!)
  • Resident autonomy (What? What does that even mean?)
  • Good clinic schedule (Who cares! Get back to the important stuff.)
  • A bridge collapsed!!! (CON.)
  • Residents of this state are encouraged to take their shirts off, twist them around their head and spin them like a helicopter (both?)
As you can see, someone's had their work cut out for them. And last Wednesday, Y turned in his official, final rank list... and now we wait. 

In the mean time, let's discuss that Match Day card, which is actually not a thing and was sent to Y by the American Medical Association in hopes he would upgrade his membership from student to professional sometime this year.


Y thinks the note on the back of the envelope was written with an auto-pen. I -- having worked as an intern -- think a couple of interns were forced to write 13,000 handwritten congratulatory messages. What say you? 


interview trail: alabama


This picture was actually taken in Arkansas, but I would not be surprised if most people didn't know there was a difference between Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas, and probably even Louisiana.


When you're driving through middle of nowhere Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, it's important to have a backup plan in case of boredom when your passenger falls asleep and your iphone transmitter won't work. I didn't have one. All I had was Mississippi/Alabama border radio on scan. And it was all country. Over. And over. And..

And then... I found my backup plan. As snippets of country songs played, one after the other, I realized that country lyrics were all so similar that they blurred together to form little country poems.  This entertained me for hours.

My favorites:




If Y ends up matching in Alabama and I can't find a job, at least I'll have a really productive hobby.


Y has been flying around the country for residency interviews since October. I've been writing about it. To see the rest of my notes from the interview trail, click here. 

Interview trail: Portland part 2

Y has been flying around the country for residency interviews since October. I've been writing about it. To see the rest of my notes from the interview trail, click here. 

The girl and the boy, currently living in a city with only a regional airport, had few options to fly to Oregon. From Louisiana, they flew halfway across the country in the opposite direction. They landed in Atlanta in the middle of a thunderstorm, missing their flight to Oregon by minutes. After a stressful half hour in an enraged customer service line, they were told the only way to get to Oregon on this specific airline was through New York.  

After half-heartedly arguing, the boy and the girl -- sweaty after sprinting across the world's busiest airport with a weekend's worth of clothing -- trudged to their gate for their four hour layover

The boy thought this trip would be his easiest: it was one of his last cross-country travels so he knew what to expect and the girl, whom he had seen little of recently, was with him. Instead, the relaxing interview-cation he had expected was already becoming a nightmare.

The girl tried her hardest to calm the boy down. She bought him the ultimate Jewish comfort food (a bagel with cream cheese), and reminded him (every five minutes, it seemed) that they were set to arrive in Portland three days before his interview. It would take an extremely unfortunate series of plane delays to miss the interview.

Finally, thank goodness, they boarded their flight to New York. As the plane taxied to the runway, the screens on the backs of their seats lit up, ready to play the standard safety video. They were officially on their way, and the boy put his arm around the girl and smiled at her. 

"You know what's been the best part about flying around the country for all of these interviews?" he asked.

The girl gazed up at him. "What?" she replied,  although she was sure she knew the answer. Coming home to see you, perhaps, or This moment, right now, because we're together.

His smile widened as the safety video began.

"The redhead in Delta's safety video."



watch the video here so you, too, can lust over "Deltalina". Don't miss the best part at about 1:49.

on today's episode of Portlandia...



Portland was a natural stop for Y on the interview trail - it's our favorite city, and my sister lives there. My sister loves to show off the quirk that Portland is famous for - perhaps you've seen it portrayed on Portlandia? I've only been to Portland 6 or 7 times, but even with my small exposure, nearly every part of that show rings true.


And based on my latest trip, I've got a pitch for a sketch.

The scene: a mother (Mom X) is tucking her eleven year old twins into bed in their shared bedroom. Posters of baby animals line the walls, American Girl dolls lay scattered in the threshold of the room, on the brink of outgrown. 

Twin A: Mom, puh-leeeze can we get our ears pierced?
Twin B: EVERY one in our class has them pierced!

Cut to PTA meeting


Mom X: I'm thinking about letting the girls get their ears pierced.
PTA mom 1: I hope you're not thinking about taking her to Claire's.
PTA mom 2: Did I hear someone say Claire's? As in, the corporate chain of tween jewelry that's ruining America?
PTA mom1: Don't even get me started!
PTA mom 3: What are we talking about?
PTA mom 2: Claire's!
PTA mom 3: (gasps) Why?
PTA mom 1: Mom X is thinking about going to Claire's to get the girls' ears pierced.
PTA mom 3: (pulls out phone) Mom X, I'm going to send you some literature on Claire's. You know they practice inadequate sterilization techniques, right? 
PTA mom 2: And the quality of the jewelry they put in the poor children's ears is disgusting! 
PTA mom 1: Don't forget about that horrible gun!
PTA moms, in unison: (shuddering) Not the gun!
PTA mom 4: I took my kids to The Wanderer.
PTA moms nod enthusiastically.
Mom X: The Wanderer?
PTA mom 4: He does body piercings, so he has to be up to code and sterile.
PTA mom 3: And he only uses the best quality metal.
PTA mom 2: My kids said it didn't hurt at all!
PTA mom 1: And his shop is within a tribal art museum, so everyone can get a really fulfilling experience. 
All PTA moms in unison: And there's a coffee shop next door!

Cut to The Wanderer's piercing shop. Mom X, the girls, and a little boy enter the shop.



Boy: (wide-eyed, whispers) Mom... where are we?


The Wanderer: Okay, can we get this over with? I need to go to Ikea. 

Twin A sits on the piercing chair. The Wanderer rubs iodine on her ear, and she flinches as the needle approaches.



TW: (rolling his eyes) Listen kid, I pierce babies' ears all the time. If they can do it, you can do it.


Boy: Mommy, where ARE we?


Mom X: So tell me why you're better than Claire's.

TW: (sneering) Claire's and Hot Topic... they're big corporations, so they're above the law. They don't have any inspections to make sure they're sterile. My shop is fully sterile. 

Cut to the shop exit; both girls have had their ears pierced.

TW: Listen here, ladies. You better not go to Claire's and buy any of their crappy earrings. That stuff will rot your ears. If you come back to me with an infection, I'll charge you $100 because I'll KNOW that you went to Claire's. And NO dangly earrings. Ever. Your hole will stretch out.

Camera zooms in on The Wanderer's ear.


interview trail: north carolina






Let's just get this out in the open: I let Ike sleep like a person when Y is gone. Under the covers, head on the pillow, the whole deal. Sometimes we spoon. Now you know.


We certainly have it better than Y, who had such a terrible experience at his hotel in North Carolina that he felt compelled to review it on Tripadvisor:


Welcome to the future, welcome to the Millenium


Looking for a memorable experience? Look no further! Relax and Allow the negligent and undermanned staff of the Millennium hotel transport you to that long forgotten mystical era that to which you have always wanted to return; the era of style, panache and wonder. The legendary era of the early 1980s! Enjoy the narrow, dim hallways lit only by small candelabra bulbs last seen in the waiting area of a Reagan era olive garden. Breathe in the lingering scent of tobacco still emanating from the dirty floral print carpet. Gaze, in wonder, at the latest in television technology that 1983 has to offer! Store your belongings in a sagging armoire and refresh yourself in a state-of-the-art rust covered shower complete with your own personal colony of tenia pedis. Prepare to be pampered with truck-stop quality toiletries and then wrapped the thinnest of towels. Sleepy? Feeling the need to perform a few bodily functions on your bed before retiring? No worries! The Millennium hotel has pre-stained your sheets for you, so you need not soil them yourself. It's the little extras that really make this hotel experience unique. Hungry? Thinking of ordering room service? Feel free to peruse the tattered and stained menus and brochures not replaced since Devo was topping the charts. In town, and feeling the need to check your new fangled "electronic mail?" The business center is outfitted with the most modern computers running Windows 98, which are unable to print boarding passes. Welcome to the Millennium! 

Yes indeed, all these amenities and more can be yours at this hotel, which for reasons beyond current scientific understanding received a 3 star rating on Hotwire.




interview trail: midwest stop #5

In the interest of vagueness, I'm not going to tell you anything about this city except that it has an arch. 





While Y was at his interview, I stood in front of said arch, playing with my camera. A man, who was either a) homeless; b) drunk; or c) both stumbled up to me and asked where the library was. 


I, obviously, had no idea. 


This pissed him off. In retaliation he narrowed his eyes at me and said, "Okay, fine, how much for an hour?" and stalked off. 


I hope he managed to find the library without traumatizing any more tourists. 

interview trail: Boston part 2





A few random thoughts about Boston:


1. I was apparently on the flight from Memphis to Boston with the Small Bladder Convention. People were constantly going back and forth to the bathroom, and each time the door opened, the air recirculated and I got a huge whiff of weed. Naturally, since the smell was correlated to the bathroom door opening, I assumed someone was smoking weed in the bathroom. But then, as I pressed my forehead against the window to get a better view of Manhattan as we zoomed over it, the smell got stronger. I looked down and saw curly tendrils spilling into my personal space. This girl's weave REEKED of pot. She did manage to sleep the entire flight -- maybe I should rethink my pre-flight rituals?


2. Y got some good news about his clinical skills board exam while we were in Boston! I like to think I helped with that...


3. If we were basing our choice of city on desserts, I think the lobster tail from Modern Pastry would push Boston into first place.


4. But all of the Dunkin Donuts would be a disaster. Currently our motto is, "See a DD, inhale at least 2 donuts" because we never know when we'll see one again. If we move to Boston, that has got to stop. 


5. While Y was at his interviews, I avoided shopping by going to museums.At the JFK library, I was reunited with my inner American History geek. I also learned the following: JFK played a lot of shirtless rugby before he was president, JFK looked good in wayfarers, Jackie had a lot of pretty dresses.


6.  Can we discuss this portrait of Paul Revere at the Boston Museum of Fine Art? More specifically, can we discuss how Paul Revere looks EXACTLY like Jack Black? I stopped dead in my tracks when I walked into the gallery with this picture. I was sure I was on [the worst and most boring episode of] punk'd and Jack Black was going to step out of the shadows laughing at me.  (By the way, the internet already knows about the Jack Black/Paul Revere resemblance -- and, naturally, is accusing Black of time travel.)


(Also, this is officially my second post about Paul Revere. I love American history and all, but I never thought my blog would cover Revere in such depth.)



(read the rest of my notes from the interview trail)






Interview Trail: Boston Part 1





You probably don't need me to tell you this, but medical students -- at least the ones I know -- have know-it-all tendencies. 


On a completely unrelated note, do you want to know the worst person you could probably travel with? A KNOW IT ALL. 


Within 5 minutes of arriving at the airport, Y decided that his last few weeks of travel canceled out the fact that I had ever set foot on an airplane. He criticized:

  •  the speed at which I removed my ID from my purse ("You need to have that out beforehand!")
  • the shoes I chose to wear on the plane ("Boots?! You've got to be f*king kidding me. You do know you have to take those off, right?")
  • my shoe removal technique ("You're not fast enough!")
  • the placement of my jacket on the security conveyor belt("You need a second bin for your coat. Everyone knows that.")
  • my failure to push the bin forward ("You can't just set it down! It has to be pushed. You're holding up the line!")
  • the pocket I chose to store my quart size bag of liquids ("You need to keep them closer to the front so they're easier to remove!")**
And once we were on the plane:

  • "That smell you're smelling is the beverage cart. It smells bad on 100% of flights."
  • "Dammit! I've already read this issue of Skymall. Twice."
  • "What?! Both of our flights are on Canadair Regional Jets? I myself prefer the Embraer or any of the Boeing jets."
  • "PSH! This turbulence is nothing."
And then... the seasoned air traveler discovered something he hadn't noticed before. 


"Hey!"


"That speaker looks like a thyroid!!"



**In Y's defense, I may be exaggerating a teeny tiny bit. But I truly believe he would have said all of these things had I not given him a look of death after he tried to tell me which pocket to put my toiletries in. 

Interview trail: a brief break at home

After his fifth trip -- at five days it was the longest so far -- the boy is finally home, in his own shower, his own bed. The next flight is in just two days, and a good night's sleep in his own bed is a must. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, his stomach full from homemade chicken pot pie (and cramped from laughing at the girl's botched haircut). 

The girl falls asleep soon after, but is woken in the middle of the night by the boy's tossing and turning. She opens an eye wearily as the boy rolls over, groans, and whispers in her ear. 

"Are we in a hotel?"

Interview trail: Tour de PA part 2



This is the tragic tale of an exhausted medical student,  on the tail end of 5 consecutive interview trips away from home. This time, he's in the faraway land of Pennsylvania. 


----


The men stood up, pushing their chairs back as they shook hands, thanking each other briefly for their time. More thorough thank yous could wait; there was a plane to catch and a stack of blank thank you cards at home.


As soon as he was out of sight, he checked his watch. He had exactly two hours before his flight departed to deposit him across the state, where he would attend interviews at 2 more schools. There was no time to change out of his suit. Luckily, his flight time was less than an hour. He could handle being crammed onto an airplane in a suit for 45 minutes, especially when the entire plane would be looking at him thinking, "Wow, that guy must be important." He stood up a little taller.


After dashing next door to his hotel to grab his bag, he was in a shuttle on his way to the airport. 1 hour and 30 minutes left, he thought, am I going to make it on time? A notorious worrier, he always assumed he would miss his flights and had been known to arrive at the airport two hours before a domestic flight. He paused for a moment to think, Gosh, is my propensity to arrive at airports way too early annoying to my wife and other loved ones? He shook the thought out of his mind. Preposterous. 



Just as his worrying was reaching its peak, he realized his shuttle was at a standstill. Traffic.  He put his head against the window in defeat, taking in the dreary city around him just as it started to rain. To calm his nerves, he sent a message to his beautiful and hilarious wife. Stuck in traffic. Weather sucks. 


She wrote back, So your flight's delayed?


He hadn't even thought of that. He checked his flight status; his flight was delayed an hour. With this new information, at this rate he would make it to the airport 2 hours before his 45 minute flight. His ideal scenario. He sat back to enjoy the stop and go shuttle ride.


And then, at the airport, sat back at his gate to enjoy the 1 2 3 hour delay.


Finally, he was on the airplane -- his dinner plans ruined; his suit too wrinkled for anyone to believe he was of any importance. 45 minutes, he thought, exhausted, in 45 minutes I'll be there and on my way to my bed. 


Meanwhile, at home his wife watched TV and refreshed his flight status when she remembered. When a red bar appeared, she gasped. Because what else does one do when they're checking to see if a plane made it safely and out of nowhere, a giant red bar that practically screams EMERGENCY! DANGER! pops up? Did no one think of this when they were designing the site? COME ON.





Sorry.


Anyway...


After circling Philadelphia in terrifying turbulence for over an hour, the plane finally landed, and the flight watched as the smelly, exhausted man in the wrinkled suit made his way off the plane. "Is he homeless?" they probably whispered to each other, "Do you think he stole that suit?"


He had only one thing on his mind: a bed. By the time they landed, it was almost midnight. He blocked the next 30 minutes out of his mind: the disgusting airport, the shuttle that never came. The next thing he remembered was standing in the lobby of his beautiful hotel as someone handed him keys, then standing in front of the door to his room, fumbling with the key and contemplating falling asleep on the carpet outside of the door if not for the sweet, sweet bed that awaited him inside.


He opened the door to his hotel room.







There was no bed. 





Interview trail: tour de PA part 1





You single people don't know how good you have it. While Y was on this trip -- Tuesday through Saturday--, I realized I could forgo taking a shower for  four days straight and no one would notice. Another perk: leaving the house an absolute mess and cleaning up only just before someone came over. Why didn't you guys tell me about this stuff before I decided to go and get married?


The other great thing about Y leaving for a week is what I like to call Operation Summer Vacation. If you were like me in middle school and high school, you were nerdy, chubby, and, well, in great need of a makeover. 



Every year as the final bell rang on the last day of school, you smiled to yourself and thought, This is it. This is the summer I will become hot. I'll work out everyday. I'll get a tan. I will read Seventeen magazine very carefully to build up a show-stopping wardrobe. When I come back, no one will recognize me. 

If you were like me in middle school and high school, this never worked. You came back to school with a farmer's sunburn and some scary new moles, as chubby as ever and  - if your parents really hated you - with braces.

Regardless, when Y left on Tuesday Operation Summer Vacation  was in full swing. I got my eyebrows waxed (not like he's ever noticed that), worked out every day, and made an appointment to get a hairstyle that  I knew Y  would not only actually notice, but really love -- bangs.

I sat in the chair at the salon, an hour before Y returned, freshly showered for the first time in four days. My stylist spun me around to see my new bangs. "All done!" she beamed, "What do you think?" 

I only had a nanosecond to look at myself before jumping up. "They're fine!" I blurted out, ripping off my cape, throwing money at her, and running to my car.  The thing was, all I saw was that they were closer to my hairline than my eyebrows. And that was all I needed to see -- they were too short and anything she tried to do to fix them would just make them shorter. She needed to stop touching them immediately.  


It's just hair, I told myself. Surely it will look better in the car mirror, right? They couldn't possibly be as short as they looked in the salon... right? And even if they are, maybe I can pull off short bangs. I was feeling pretty good about myself by the time I got to my car and opened the mirror. 



The good news: it turns out only one side was too short. 


Operation Summer Vacation had failed again. When Y walked in the door the first thing he said was "your hair looks weird" followed by stifled laughter and a week of jokes at my expense. 

Just like middle school. 

notes from the interview trail: Midwest Stop #4 (part b)




A few things I've learned:


  • When a guy's nearest and dearest friends and family take the time to send a wedding gift on his behalf, he is helpless to write a thank you note. "But... but what do I say?" he asks. "Say thank you for the thing they got you," you say helpfully. The notes pile up on his desk and eventually some are even forgotten about.  However, when there's a job on the line? Thank you note writing becomes an art and the most important thing he can possibly do. "They wrote me a thank you note for my thank you note!" he says, "Should I write them a thank you note for their thank you note for my thank you note?"

  • It might seem exciting to travel around the country, run through airports, eat free meals, and explore new cities' public transportation options. You might even be jealous. But don't be fooled. I was, until I heard the phrase "soul-crushing loneliness" from a Microtel in Michigan. 

  • When you're home alone and you wake up in the morning to find your couch smeared with blood, save yourself a heart attack and don't automatically assume someone broke in, tried to kill something, freaked out at the sight of blood, and left. It might sound ridiculous, but I was home alone and saw blood -- wouldn't your first thought be murderer?? Luckily,it turns out my queasy murderer was just my dog, who decided to bury a pack of gum in the couch with his nose. He did so with such intensity that he rubbed his nose raw and streaked our tan couch with smears of blood that would have left Dexter Morgan scratching his head. 

interview trail: midwest stop #3

While Y was on interview #3, some kind of rodent took up residence in our walls. Of course it decided the best time for its stay would be when I was home alone, extra sensitive to every little noise. Every time I thought I was falling asleep, I would hear a taptaptap behind my head and before I knew it, Ike would be standing on my chest barking.  Not cool, unidentified rodent. 


But the incident reminded me of a story: when Y and I lived in a crappy old apartment at LSU, something lived in our ceiling. We heard it running around occasionally, mainly when it got cold. Our apartment was an upgrade for Y; he had lived in a ramshackle quadplex where a dead mouse was a weekly occurrence. 





Our apartment was a downgrade for me: my friend and I lived in a fairly new townhouse with a new washer and dryer and a bowling alley. Okay, it was a long narrow closet, but we called it the bowling alley. My point is, there were no rodents.


Anyway, one morning at the new apartment, Y and woke up and heard scratching coming from the ceiling. "Ugh, it's that mouse again," I groaned, rolling over and falling back asleep. When I eventually got out of bed, I stepped on something grainy with my bare feet. I squinted at the neat little pile on the ground. Paint chips? I thought to myself. How did those get... 





I happened to look up. And scream, because this is basically what I saw on my ceiling:








I don't mind squirrels, honestly. Just when they're sticking their head through my ceiling. 

And that's what kept me up until 1 am while Y was at interview #3. Fear of a squirrel.

---

Y's  pre-interview dinners were sometimes during my environmental health class. So two weeks in a row, while I suffered through three hour lectures on lead poisoning and occupational health, Y texted me pictures of the amazing gratis meals he was eating. 





Do you have any idea how good blurry pub food sounds when you're learning about reproductive issues in factory workers in Korea? Really good.

interview trail: midwest stop #2






Y is a different sort of traveler than I am. I'm the kind of airplane passenger who puts my headphones on or buries my nose in a book immediately after sitting down. I don't care where you're from, 16A, I don't care where you're going, and I don't want to tell you what I'm reading. Unless you have a baby. If you have a baby, I want to hold it and then give it back to you as soon as it starts crying so no one thinks I am that person with a crying baby on a plane.


Y, on the other hand, comes home with a person's first and last name, where they went to elementary school, and the latest argument they had with their wife. During layovers, he dines in airport bars with plane-friends. On this trip, someone from Y's flight was staying at his hotel and they went out to lunch. I DON'T GET IT.



-----


When Y told me he got this interview, I gave him the so-called stinkface, a term coined by Katie. I had never even considered visiting this particular state or city, much less living there. But then the following things happened:

  • the city's standard Wikipedia page made it sound amazing.
  • every single person I mentioned it to told me I would love it. 
  • part of our criteria for ranking is Ike's reaction when we say the name of the state.* When I asked Ike if he wanted to live there he did this:



My point is, don't completely write off a place just because you wouldn't go there for a girls' weekend. 

----

A theme of Y's interview travels: call people you haven't spoken to in 3 and a half years and ask to stay with them when you visit their respective cities. You get a free night and get to catch up with an old friend. And they get an unexpected houseguest who smells vaguely like a hospital. Win win.



*kidding. Isn't it sad that I had to clarify that? 

Notes from the interview trail: Midwest stop 1







I don't want to hurt Y's feelings, but being alone for a few days was kind of nice. I watched two seasons of The Wonder Years, and as Kevin and Winnie fell in and out of love I realized something: I can make ravioli.


Every week at the grocery store I pass by the refrigerated pre-made ravioli and tortellini and suppress my drooling. Y has made it clear that he hates any kind of filled pasta, and his disgust of it managed to convince me that I didn't like it either. But as soon as he left town, I knew I had to have some. 

As I boiled the water, I thought to myself that Y being out of town really wasn't that bad if I got to eat my sodium-laden portobello ravioli whenever I wanted. As I was eating, savoring every bite, I got a text message. From Y.

Just had the most amazing portobello ravioli at dinner.

---

When Y got back, I had plenty of questions for him. Did you bring me anything? How was your flight? Wait, you didn't bring me anything? Not even a [insert name of chocolate peanut butter delicacy unique to state Y was in]*? What kinds of questions did they ask you?

Apparently that last question was a stupid one. A residency interview isn't your typical job interview -- for the most part there are no questions. Here's how it goes: the department takes the applicants out to dinner (and apparently reverses everything the applicant thought he knew about his favorite foods) and the next morning, they sit in on the conference typically held each morning. Then, they have individual interviews -- which are more like "getting to know you" sessions, with maybe one important question - What about internal medicine appeals to you? 


That sounds nothing like the practice interviews the career services department offered the School of Mass Communication. Becoming a doctor sounds so easy! Let's all do it!
---


*Fine, he was in Ohio. 

residency interviews








For the past few months, fourth year medical students have been flying around the country interviewing for residency spots. This time is affectionately known by Y and his friends as interview season, which sounds to me as if they're out in the wild hunting interviews. Which I guess they are.


Since the season is over for now (and Y has figuratively killed about 10 interviews), over the next few days I'll be sharing some of the notes from the interview trail from my perspective. Locations will be vague, as I don't want to screw anything up.

Anything specific that anyone wants to know about interviewing (out of curiosity or for future reference)?