Surgery, Interviews, and Rock 'n Roll

Ben Bryner -- Like Colin, I'm on the interview trail, trying to line up a residency (although I'm applying into general surgery). I'm hearing some of the same questions as he is. Actually, nobody's really asked me what I would to if I couldn't be a surgeon. But my predetermined answer is: A sushi chef (like surgery, but more delicious) or a reporter.

One of the other questions that I've been told to prepare for is "What kind of people do you have the hardest time working with?" Obviously, this is a trap. (The old tried-and-true trap question, "What are your weaknesses?" is now such a cliché that I haven't heard anyone ask it.) So when someone asks you what kind of people are difficult to work with, you can't give the correct answer ("People that are both mean and stupid"). But this is fine, because the interviewer's point in asking the question is not to obtain information (everybody knows the right answer) but to see how you think.

So one way I've answered the question is to say that as a medical student, people who don't give you a chance to get involved are the toughest ones to work with. If a resident assumes I don't know how to take a history by myself and makes me just watch them talk to a patient, it's frustrating and I tend not to learn much from them. Or, one time when I asked a nurse how to log into a program for tracking patients, instead of doing so she said "I don't think you have access to that program" even though I did. That specific situation wasn't a real problem, but when enough people share that attitude, it makes it a frustrating place to work. Conversely, when an attending assumes I am interested in a procedure and lets me help at an appropriate level, I learn a lot more and enjoy it.

By answering this way I hope to show the interviewer that I like getting involved, am a team player, and will be interested in teaching students when I'm a resident. I have no idea if this comes across the way I mean it, but it's obviously better than some other potential answers.

Maybe I can explain my answer another way. If you've played the game Guitar Hero, you'll remember that there's a little meter on the side of the screen that shows you how well you're doing. The needle starts out in the middle as the song starts, and with each note you play correctly, the meter inches toward the green zone at the right of the meter. When you miss a note, the meter dips down toward the red zone on the left. For a lot of songs, if you're bad at the game like I am, before you can get past the tricky intro to the song, the meter hits the far left, the virtual crowd starts booing and the song stops abruptly. It's very sad, because if I can just get the song started I can move the needle to the green, build up some momentum and even if I fumble through the solo, can finish the song.

Sometimes it seems like every new resident or attending I meet has a little meter in his or her mind that tracks my performance -- how well I answer questions, how well I present patients, how efficiently I work, etc. If the meter stays in the green, I'm doing well and I get a good evaluation. If it hits the red I get ignored. Which all makes sense. The good ones start the meter out in the middle, giving me a chance to show what I know and show my interest. But some people start that meter out in the red, and before I get a chance to get involved, they've already decided not to bother teaching me, a mere student. Thankfully those people are a lot less common than the good ones in my experience. I haven't yet busted out the Guitar Hero analogy in an interview (it's time-consuming, for one), but I'm ready to do so if necessary.