Notes on a Recent Residency Interview

 Out of sheer luck, I have had a few interviews over the past couple of months ranging from video calls to the formality of on-site visits. I apply broadly within the large domain of surgery and its subspecialties, as "beggars can't be choosers," an oft-repeated phrase I utter like a mantra in times of insecurity about my current station in life. The most recent of interviews took place on-site at a University medical center. Six of us were selected to vie for a PGY-1 vacancy for a subspecialty surgical position, wherein the previously matched applicant had decided that surgery was not right for him. (This was a wise choice, as Surgery demands everything, will take your blood and soul, and if you harbor any doubts, then consider all your questions answered. Perhaps I'm being overly dramatic, but I've heard this said by other surgeons throughout my education and training and am merely repeating the gist of what they said.)



I drove 5 hours on a cold gray morning, and a mild but irritating snowfall hailed my arrival at the large rotunda of the Medical Center. As a Soviet emigre, I love the snow - it is within me - but I found its timing inopportune. I rushed into the closest bathroom to get changed and found I had forgotten my black dress shoes in the car, so the resultant figure exiting the bathroom was one donning a black suit, navy tie, and punctuated with the discordant touch of light blue-and-yellow Mizuno running sneakers. It could just as easily have been an outfit for a costumed 5k race as for a life-determining interview. I rushed back to the car, exchanged the shoes, and navigated to the Meeting Place, hitherto established by the residency program manager. She greeted applicants and took us to the Department's Conference Room.

For Residency, the Conference Room is a place unto itself. It takes many forms - dingy, modern, high-tech, mahogany-clad, and so on. The Conference Room of a Department may demand no particular aesthetic appreciation, resemble an Ikea layout, or look like every other mass-produced room throughout the Medical Center, with sturdy yet unimaginative furniture, but it contains within its hallowed walls the inimitable product of a program's history, rife with discovery, learning, teaching, planning, argument, and, not least, political drama. A Surgical Department or Division is like a large well-to-do family, with all the requisite in-fighting and machinations that characterize the likes of Rockefellers or the DuPonts. Of course, there is also ample love and mutual respect. Each program is unique in the degree to which collegiality trumps the less mannered manifestations of our natures.

As I sat with my co-interviewees in a comfortable leather chair and observed the program throughout the day, this one in particular struck me as quite genuinely collegial. The faculty treated residents with the respect of a junior colleague, and lightheartedness abounded, when appropriate.

Each candidate interviewed with 4 members of the faculty, including the Chief and Program Director. This is fairly standard. The candidates were diverse and ranged in the breadth and nature of their experiences. I felt at ease with them, and hopefully they with me. My interviews proceeded in a standard fashion, more or less, excepting one, wherein the interviewer appeared to conduct an 'Emotional Intelligence' interview with hypothetical scenarios of workplace situations. I found this interesting and unique, and it enamored me to the place even more. The other interviews asked me to expound on my background and fill in the gap in my CV. This was done in a non-intrusive way, and I felt at ease disclosing things with nothing but the utmost honesty. We also had a few chances to interact with current residents, as time permitted. They were friendly, intelligent, hardworking, and honest.

In the end, I finished with my last interview, and the program coordinator kindly gave me directions to the garage. I got into the car, took off my jacket, tie, and dress shirt; changed my shoes, and headed for the highway in what would be a tedious and pensive drive to Home. On arriving, I cut two slices of cheesecake, boiled hot water for a cup of passionfruit jasmine green tea, and broke off four squares of Ghirardelli Intense Dark Hazenut Heaven chocolates, all in preparation for a long day of GrubHubbing the next day.