I hate travelling alone. Somehow or rather, I always end up having a conversation with whoever sits next to me. I don’t mind the conversation, but sooner or later, the ‘oh-so-casually-asked’ question comes up: ‘So, what do you do for a living?’
I always hesitate. I always consider lying about what I do. I just don’t want to say I am a doctor.
It took me a while figure out why. Apart from the fact that once people find out they are talking to a doctor, they lose all interest in talking about anything else. Anything else but every medical condition or surgery they have ever had. Then they move onto each of their family members and friends. In between, they give you their five cents’ worth of why they knew better than the doctor, and how Dr Google was so helpful. By the end of the flight, they would be asking for a free in-flight consultation as to what my opinion was in regards to dear old departed Grandpa’s gouty big toe.
I get that. I really do. I find myself doing the same when I talk to people in certain jobs. When I first met my friend who is an airline pilot, I told him about all my terrible flying experiences. I could literally see his eyes roll to the back of his head as I carried on. But he has no qualms in telling people he is a pilot. In fact, he loves it, because he says it is a great drawcard for chicks.
I don’t think it is a drawcard for me. You could see the interest dimmer in men’s eyes when I tell them I am a doctor, or the body language wthdraws when I mention that I cut people up for a living. Well, not exactly in those words. It is often hard to tell whether it is because they are intimidated or they are just not interested in female doctors. Of course, once they get over that fact – and they haven’t moved onto someone else with a greater one-night-stand potential – I get the low-down about their latest health problems over a beer. No Siree, there’s no flirting for the female doctor at the bar, It’s all serious talk about their latest health problems. When boys fantasize about playing doctors and nurses, I guess they just never really imagined playing the nurse.
People judge people by what they do. Assumptions are made- some are true, but majority of the time, it can be quite far off the mark. These are often based on stereotypes. So, when I tell people I am a surgeon, people usually presume that I am a smart, rich, arrogant, bossy, ball-breaking feminist. Some even assume that I am single. Interestingly, some people talk differently to me once they realised what I do for a living. It is almost insulting when people make comments like ‘You know, you are not like a typical surgeon. You are so normal and down to earth.’ Yep. I eat, drink, wee and poo like any other normal person.
But most of all, I hate telling people that I am doctor, simply because it is not who I am.
I am a surgeon, and yes it consumes my life, but it is still just a job for me. I would still be me if I was a teacher, waitress or cleaner. I would still have the same work ethic, the same standards and the same approach to my work. I don’t identify myself with what I do for a living, but rather, what I do in life.
I think it is a good thing.
It allows me to separate my personal life and work life better. In the time continuum, they do overlap. For instance, when I am out shopping for groceries, I get a phone call from work. But I don’t think of myself as a surgeon doing groceries, I identify myself with everyone else around me doing groceries, the only difference is I am getting a call about work when it’s a Sunday afternoon. When I have issues at work, I don’t bring it home to my personal life. When I have problems at home, I deal with it like a concerned wife, not like a surgeon.
It is also good for protecting myself. When I get abused by patients, or complaints from colleagues, I find it easier to see it as a criticism of my work, and less an assault of me as a person. They don’t know me, not really, they are just angry at the doctor. This allows me to look at my work more objectively and find out what I may be able to change or improve, rather than get all upset because I feel incompetent, hurt and lose my self-confidence.
My husband likes it. He thinks that I keep the non-doctor part of myself only to those closest to me. He often chuckles when he hears me speaking on the phone to my colleagues at home. ‘You talk like you have balls.’ Not the most eloquent compliment he could bestow on his wife, but he loves the fact that as soon as I put the phone down, I revert back to the quirky chick he married. The one that snuggles up to him on the sofa and lets hm believe that she worships the ground he walks on, whilst taking a piss out of him all at the same time.
Most of all, separating my job and my identity allows me to have a life outside work. I have other interests, many of which are not exactly congruous with what I do for a living. I suppose most people think doctors play golf, sail, travel during their spare time. Me? I enjoy bashing up my Sensei and his gigantic sons during my karate training sessions (free medical care offered if I win). Other weekends I go to the gun range and work on my not-so-perfect trap-shooting technique, in between cheese tasting with the large Italian community at my local gun club. I seriously think that I would be more comfortable calling myself a mediocre amateur trap shooter (who loves her chilli cheese), than I would a surgeon.
Discovering my identity outside my work gives me the opportunity to find out who I am, and confirms that I am not my work. It gives me a purpose in life even if someone strips me of my job and all the associated status it represents. It determines how I do my job. How many times have I heard of senior colleagues continually postponing their retirement? It is because they are too afraid of retiring – they have nothing besides their work and they are at risk of losing their identity once they stop being a doctor.
I would hate to think my view is a reflection that I am not committed to my work or that I don’t love my work. In fact, I really believe that I make a better surgeon if I am also a regular human being. I hope that people don’t just see me as a ‘doctor’, but rather a kind, thoughtful, considerate, empathetic, intelligent, decisive and trust-worthy person. A person that they feel confident in as their doctor. Because that’s who I strive to be.
Back to the plane.
‘So, what do you do for a living?’
‘Oh,’ I would shrug, ‘not much. I am a lady of leisure.’ I wave my hands around elegantly like a practiced socialite. ‘but I am fairly busy,’ a sweet innocent smile thrown in here, ‘I go to lunches with my girl friends, I love a bit of shopping; I organise charity functions and I always attend my husband’s work-do’s, you know.’
Usually I get an indulgent smile. ‘Well, you lucky girl.’
I would give a very girlish giggle. ‘I know, my husband spoils me.’
The conversation takes a brief break as the air hostess wheels the coffee cart up to us. She bends over to me.
‘Dr Tiffany, can I offer you a coffee?’
May be there is a doctorate in home-decorating?