Adopted Again

I love my parents, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. With my week on/week off schedule, I've made it home more this year than I have in ages (unfortunately one trip was for my Grammy's funeral). It's been 15 years, though, since I've actually lived at home in Erie.

During that time, I was in school/residency and rarely made it home more than once or twice annually. This would have been an even bigger drag, except that I've always been the kind of guy that my friends would take on trips home, at least to drive if not to add to the fun. As my friend Bryan said, "I don't have to worry about you having fun. If I put a beer in your hand, by the time I get back my friends will like you more than they like me." Not quite true, but it got him a ride home to New Orleans and time to hook up with his fiance. His other famous quote, after I made tacos and fajitas, was: "You'll make someone a great bitch someday." How did I NOT know?!

Since college, I've accumulated adopted parents is West Nyack, Pittsburg, Chalmette, Slidell, and LA. Last weekend, I think I was blessed enough to add another set.

One of my friends in SF had his parents in town, and granted me the honor of meeting them. I'd already met his siblings, and spoken to his Mom on the phone (on an odd evening), but this was the first time I'd met his parents in person. Since I don't have his/their permission, I won't name names, but his family is geographically and culturally close to my own. We met for drinks near Union Square, and it took me about 30 seconds to feel at home with them.

I saw a visit coming, so I had cleaned up my apartment a bit (not enough) before I left to meet them. We all came back to my place for drinks and to hang. As you may have read, I am having a crisis of employment, and my parents were in Greece and unreachable. My friends parents subbed in nicely, gave me great advice, and, I think, really cared. After drinks on my deck, they took us to dinner in North Beach. Then we had dessert and more wine at their son's pad.

9 straight days of work, job issues, and suddenly feeling comfortable led me to tip back quite a bit of wine. Regrettably, I dropped a few f-bombs in front my friend's folks (much to his chagrin), but they didn't seem to mind terribly. I can tell I respect them and would care what they think, because I'd hate for them to know what happened at Badlands later. Such is life.

I ran into them on the street a couple of days later, and we had another wonderful chat. They demanded to be kept posted on what happens with my job, and gave me even more good advice. Thank God for them -- it gave me a 5 day advance on exactly what my own parents said when they got back from Greece.

They also found out that I, like their son, have a blog. If you're reading this, Mr. and Mrs. ____:
1) Thanks for dinner
2) Thanks for the advice
3) Hope to see you again soon
4) Sorry for the F-bombs

For the rest of you -- adopt your child's friends when you get the chance. Even 33 year olds need to know they have caring family around.

Ummm...Not So Much

It turns out that if you google my name, you can find this blog. But you first have to weed through 3 pages of research papers and the CVs of my thesis advisors. Given that, I figure its pretty safe to give you the story of my Austin job interview.

I left Wednesday morning and was tired as hell (but happy -- another story for another day). I made it to the airport on time for my flight, and got to sit in Economy plus. Not bad -- an extra head cushion and a comfy amount of leg room.


Once in Austin, I got my rental car, a Chevy Malibu, and was on the road by 4:30. Unfortunately, I was on one of the busiest highways in Austin at rush hour.
After an hour of bumper to bumper traffic, I pulled into the Holiday Inn Express.


As I was checking in, a man in a chair behind me introduced himself as my Austin tour guide/real estate agent. Having only an hour for the tour, I knew I wasn't going to see much. The agent was pleasant enough, but just drove me around suburbia for an hour, stopping at one house. I was amazed by what my proposed salary would buy in Austin (3 bedrooms, patio, 2 car garage, kitchen with island. Mmmm.....kitchen island). The problem was that he kept using words like "professional", "family-oriented", and "quiet" as though they were selling points. Obviously the email I sent saying that I was single, would sacrifice space for style and location, and needed a big kitchen did not have the desired impact. Shoulda gone with "I'm a big ole queer and I want a lair down by the gay bars."

I took a quick shower, shaved, and was knotting my tie when the phone rang, heralding the arrival of my dinner companion, one of the researchers at the company. He said, through a fairly thick accent, "Do you mind the Village Inn? My friend said it was good."

Some of you may be cracking up already. For the rest of you, the Village Inn is a slight, and I do mean slight, notch above Denny's. Plastic menu, no booze, and nothing on the menu over $10. I ordered the most expensive dinner -- the over-cooked, liquid smoked sirloin with french fries. I'm not asking for Ruth's Chris here, but come the f*** on.

One of his colleagues arrived a little late. After we ordered, the grilling began -- and I don't mean the steak. Usually, the pre-interview dinner is meant to let you get to know people and put you at ease. Instead, I got the inquisition. And not about my experience or skills -- they wanted to know why I was leaving medicine, why I would be willing to take a pay cut, and how long I would stay at the job (the one I hadn't been offered yet).

They briefly considered dessert, but figured I "would want to get home and work on my talk". Right. I printed out note pages of my slides and then headed downtown. I was playing pool at The Mix on Tuesday and two people, including Ian of Badlands fame, told me I should go to Oil Can Harry's -- so I did.

Unfortunately, like most gay bars at 2100 on Wednesday, it was dead. But the space had a lot of promise for a fun night out, and it was WARM, evoking pleasant memories of my life in Atlanta. I miss being able to wear shorts comfortably at night.

I had a drink, walked around a bit, and made it back to the hotel by 2300, at which point I did polish off my slides and go to bed.


The next morning was my talk. Honestly, I think I slam-dunked it. I actually remembered all the transitional things I wanted to say in between slides, and I finished in about 40', which is what they had scheduled. They asked some good questions, which usually means they had (1) understood it and (2) been interested.

The next interview was with a group of the younger, i.e., my age, scientists. It was fun, but I was starting to feel in the minority. Of the five scientists I had met, all were foreign nationals -- 4 Asian and 1 Russian/Eastern European. Pleasant enough, but I didn't feel like any of them were going to grab a beer and watch the game with me. Lunch was the best part of the day -- the project managers, who are engineers, took me to a Mexican restaurant called the Oasis that overlooks the lake (or what's left of it -- Austin, unlike me, is having a major drought). I could identify with these folks, and a couple of them even lived downtown and were giving me tips on places to live.
We were late getting back to lunch, so my interviews with the two scientists who had taken me to dinner were cut short. Thank God. Each of them went back to the money, and added an uncomfortable obsession with how much "bench work" I would be willing to do. One of them asked me if I would want to continue to practice medicine (BTW - he also mentioned that he really like the restaurant from the night before -- it was quiet and clean). When I told him I planned to get a Texas license and either moonlight or volunteer, he said, "I think you will be too busy if you take this job. You would not have time for that."

I know they were trying to find out if I would be committed to the job or if I would be leaving after a year or two for the greener pastures of medicine. Asking once, or even twice, would have been OK; unfortunately, they harped on this to the point of being rude. At one point, I actually had to say:

"Money's not all that important to me. I'm looking for a job I will like, and I can afford to take a pay cut if necessary. And given that 2 years ago I was working 100 hours a week, I find the idea that I can't work a full time job and moonlight on occasion laughable."

After that, I met the section head, who was really nice. I asked him why people were asking how much lab work I would do, and he said "I don't know. I don't see you in a lab doing experiments much. We need someone to be our immunology brain in project meetings and tell us what the issues are and how to solve them. The last thing I want to do here is open an immunology lab, and your time is too valuable. At most, we'd have you design an experiment so that we can outsource it." Thank God.

The last interview was with the guy who would be my boss, who went right back to the lab work. Turns out that they only need an immunologist for a few projects. They planned to fill the rest of my time with whatever tasks they needed for other projects. He tried to put a good spin on it, saying the other projects were "challenging" even to his most senior scientists, but the message was clear -- I could end up spending a good amount of my time setting up and running mind numbing assays. We said good-bye pleasantly enough. Then the fun began.

Despite expressing concern for my schedule, the last interviewer kept me until 15:10. My flight was at 16:50, and I had to go all the way across town again, return my rental car, and get to ticketing 45' ahead to check my bag. So I drove like a bat out of hell down 183. I made it, but by the time I realized I might have some time left, there were no more gas stations. So the folks in Austin got stuck with the tab for re-fueling the car at $6.50 a gallon. I felt a little bad, but they did the scheduling.

From the airport, I called the headhunter who had set this all up. I told her I didn't think they knew what they really wanted. She agreed, and said that it was part of the reason she had been unable to decribe the job better for me. I don't think I'll be taking a full time job with them, even if they offer it to me. I did remind her that I only work every other week, and could probably fly to Austin every once in a while to consult. We'll see.

On to Hawaii -- I leave on Sunday. I've never been, and I can't wait. If you know anyone nice there with whom I might have a drink, let me know.

Inside, Outside, Upside-down

www.digital.library.upenn.edu

As usual, sorry it's been so long. I appreciate those of you who check in regularly -- it makes this all more fun. I'm working on a post with the details of the Austin trip, but I may not finish it tonight. So, to give you something, here's an issue that came up the other night with Bob and Sue.

If you're walking down the sidewalk with your lady (in a broad sense), on which side of her do you stand to be truly chivalrous? Believe it or not, a friend of Sue's ditched a guy largely because he walked to the inside (house/building side) and made her walk on the outside (street).

Believe it or not, I had heard something about this. My memory is that traditional Victorian chivalry dictates that the man walk on the outside, allegedly so that mud splashed by passing wagons would not hit the lady.

Despite this, I've heard more recently that it is now more chivalrous for the man to walk on the inside. Why? Because the threat of muggings now outweighs the threat of splash, and most dangers come from the houses, doorways, and alleys on the inside.

Ask.com led me to a number of sites, and the majority still put the man on the outside. What do y'all think?

Now what?

Thanks for the suggestions on the jobs and relocation. Seems like Austin is the choice of the blogosphere. Unfortunately, things got more difficult today, so I may need more advice.

It appears that my artfully placed requests for letters of reference and the hints I dropped about my interviews have finally hit the mark. Our negotiator called me today to say that my contract was on his desk. He's going to look it over, then give it to me. Unless things have changed since the "dummy" I saw, it says I have to give them 90 days notice if I am leaving (if I sign it).

If they had done this two months ago, or even two weeks ago, I would have been thrilled and signed it; however, I've started to enjoy the idea of a different job. It may have been a defense mechanism to prepare myself if they screwed me, but I've at least half convinced myself it's time to move on to the next phase.

This leaves me in a bit of a bind. I will NOT cancel the Austin interview since it's next week, and I really have until October 1 to sign the contract, so that shouldn't be a problem. I am not sure, however, what to do about the Hawaii job if I get an interview. Should I:

1) Ditch the Hawaii option
2) Sign the contract, and break it if I need to (there are ways)
3) Sign the contract, take the interview, but tell them I couldn't start until January 1. (This one feels the most honorable to me.)

Further, should I apply to the Denver and Arizone jobs I saw last night? What about Emory?

This would probably really bother me, except that I had a date with WCB tonight, and he likes me. Lord knows why, but it feels good.

Worked Over

www.jdhodges.com

"Don't take that job. They don't have their shit together."
--Dad

I'm 33. Why does my father still have to be right all the time?

I currently work at a private hospital in SF. Due to somewhat antiquated laws, I can't be hired by the hospital, even though it's the only place I work. Instead, I work for incorporated group of physicians who contract with the hospital. Actually, to be allowed to have benefits, I work for a medical association that subcontracts to the physician group that contracts to the hospital. You get the idea -- there are a lot of business people involved.

Doctors, as a rule, are terrible business people, and should hire others to handle the money. Wise doctors hire good business people. My group is not wise.

When I finished my residency and was looking for work, I heard about my current job. I signed a letter of intent, then waited for my contract. They dragged their feet, and tried to give me a contract and demand that I sign it that day. Then they refused to make any changes in the contract, since they didn't have time to get it to the lawyers. (At about this point, my father opined as above). In the end, I had to work as a locum tenens for almost a month before I was a full hire.

Shortly after I was on board, the business people had a meeting with all the recent hires. They listened to us, and promised things like this wouldn't happen again. (You see where this is going.)

I have dealt with changes and shortages of staffing, growing pains with the nursing staff, and strife in my group. All the while, I generally enjoyed my job, and thought I did it fairly well. There was a big hullabaloo about the specialists' long term contracts, so I didn't hear much about mine until late spring. In June, our chief negotiator said mine was on the way. In July, he said it was on the way. Upon returning from a vacation July 28, I found in my mailbox not a contract with the promised raise and changes, but a piece of paper asking me to work for the same salary for two more months.

I refused to sign it, and no one seemed to care until August 1, when I was no longer officially employed. In a meeting that morning, the head of our group started to talk about recruiting new physicians. I made an audible "Pppphhhllbbtttt" sound.

"Yes, Joel?"

"Sorry, but I don't see how you can talk about recruitment when you can't even keep the people you have," I said.

Not knowing what was up with my contract, he said "What do you mean?"

"Well, my contract ran out yesterday. If I go over to the hospital today, I don't know if I will get paid. But I can deal with that. I don't know if I'll get benefits, and I can deal with that, too. But since my malpractice insurance is through [the group] and I'm no longer a contracted employee, I'm not sure I have malpractice insurance. So I can't work today."

"You don't have a new contract?" he asked.

"No. They want me to sign a two month extension, not a contract, and I refused."

To his credit, the head of my group flew into action, and the Chief Medical Officer (CMO) was meeting with me in our negotiator's office by 11:00 AM. The problem was, she offered nothing but her word that I would eventually receive back pay (she wouldn't even put it in writing). I mentioned that they had already held a meeting to promise this wouldn't happen again, and I suggested that if we could extend the contract by changing the dates, we could also change the salary. Or, I proposed, we could add a signing bonus to the extension that made up the salary difference (since she allegedly intended to give it to me). She said "the lawyers" would not allow either.

Unfortunately, I've played enough Hold'Em to know that you won't win if you can't afford to lose. Since it takes a month or more to get privileges to work at a new hospital, and I had neither job applications sent nor two months salary in the bank, I coudn't really quit. In the end, I left the room with a promise that my senior colleagues would make up my salary if they try to screw me, my new contract would include retroactive malpractice tail coverage (long story), and the CMO would try to get me a contract in one month instead of two.

I'm pretty pissed that I put myself in that position. Now it's mid-September, a month and a half-out, and I still am without a contract. I sat in a meeting last night with the CMO, during which contract issues were discussed. She offerred no information about mine. My problem is not actually the money -- I'm doing fine; but as a rule, I don't work for people who show me so little regard. It's hard to argue that you're surprised when a 1 year contract ends.

I do learn from my mistakes, though, and I have a couple of job interviews scheduled. As Mr. Scott quoted, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." My biggest problem now is that I'm not sure I'm ready to leave SF, but I don't have another job offer here. The two leaders are a research job in Austin, Texas and a hospitalist job in Hawaii.

home.austin.rr.com

I'm actually starting to get excited about the latter -- it would be working as a civilian at a army teaching hospital. A number of the men in my family have been in the military, and I have a lot of respect for the armed forces. I've thought about enlisting to serve as an MD for a couple of years, but I'm finally enjoying myself after 20+ years of confusion/closet, and I'm not very good at hiding things. This job almost seems like fate telling me to put up or shut up, and, let's face it, living in Hawaii may not actually be a "sacrifice".

www.epa.gov

I'm also thinking that I should apply for a job at Emory. I've always wanted to go back, but I didn't want to burn bridges by applying before I was serious. Part of me thinks that if I'm going to move, it might as well be back to Atlanta.

www.registrar.emory.edu

So, what do you think, Blogosphere? To paraphrase Jo Dee Messina, "Heads Austin, Texas, Tails Honolulu." Please send opinions, or any information you have about living in these areas. I can use the help.

Two quick side notes:
1) I've been watching the season finale of "Blade: The Series" while typing. I've been infatuated with vampires since the series "Cliffhangers" when I was a kid. Now, I'm infatuated with the hot Asian guy in the tight white shirt who works with Blade. Since he's not a vampire, perhaps he sucks things other than blood.
2) The gent who sent me flowers (who recently took me out) just sent me an e-mail with "A Song for Employees Suffering Mistreatment". I shit you not.

Still Here

I hate to admit it, but I was spooked. Last week, I heard about an Al Queda communique that included a threat from a former Californian. Then, I saw a bunch of tape on a street in North Beach with marker writing urging me to repent and convert to Islam, because the end was near.

Given that San Francisco is a major financial center, and that we indulge in many forms of (alleged) sin, I've been afraid that someone might try to hit my city today. I didn't ever think it was likely, but I was on edge all day. In short, I'm glad the 5th anniversary of 9/11 has come and gone.

I think a shout out is in order to all of the people who have kept us safe for the past 5 years. President Bush probably had someting to do with it, but I think the gratitude mostly goes to people whose names we'll never know. Thanks.

I'm just going to leave you with a shot of the TransAmerica tower, which I'm glad still towers over the San Francisco skyline, fog or no.

A Perfect Day

ESPN recently finished showing the Top 3 "Webgems" from every Major League Baseball team. This morning, they showed the best of the best as the Top 10 Webgems of all time.

Were I to rank my Top 3 Labor Days, followed by the Top 10 Days of all time, September 4, 2006 would probably make both lists.

Kel from Who Threw That Ham At Me? and I were at a happy hour plotting a hang-out and started discussing wine country. As we were firming up plans last weekend, Michael from Try Not To Panic expressed an interest in going. Chad Fox couldn't make it, but gets a shout-out here for introducing me to both these guys.

I like my baby to be pretty when I start a road trip, so I got her an Ultra-Wash.


They always miss a couple of spots near the vents on the hood, but they do a pretty good job for the price.



I picked the boys up at Kel's around 11:30, put on the country music, and we were on our way. Despite my fears of Labor Day and Bay Bridge closure traffic jams, we made it to Healdsburg in just over an hour. For those who don't know me, I'm over Napa, and mostly over Sonoma. Great wineries for sure, but I think the wine farther north can be just as good, the people are much more fun, and the tasting price (free) is right. (My exception to this is when friends from out of town want to do a tour -- I think some of the Napa wineries are a little better.)

J Winery was our first stop as they have great wine, pair it with food, and we hadn't eaten lunch. It was a gorgeous day, and we availed ourselves of the outdoor special of wine, cheese, and meat. They planned to serve us their Brut, a Chardonnay, and two Pinot Noirs, but brought out a third Pinot at Kel's request. I didn't request the ogle-worthy waiter, but I certainly enjoyed both him and the third Pinot. The meat on the tray with the cheese wasn't bad either. I always forget to take pictures, so I made my companions pose.

Our next stop was Camellia Cellars, where they make, IMHO, some of the best red wines in California. I forgot the pictures this time, but here is one from their website:


The man on the right is Bruce, who always doles out good wine and good conversation. This time, he even gave me a taste of 2005 Petit Syrah, which currently has too high an alcohol content for production. It tided me over nicely until we got to Hop Kiln, especially given that Michael volunteered to be our DD. It's nice to have a car that others want to drive. Thanks again, Michael.



Hop Kiln makes some nice wines, especially their Thousand Flowers white, but I mostly take people there because "I like-a da sauce". They have a smorgasbord of pestos, mustards, and dessert toppings. I like the Cognac Pepper Mustard and Pinot Chocolate Sauce seen here, but Michael fell in love with the Pumpkin Sauce.




Davis Bynum was our next stop. My two favorite pourers weren't there, but I thought Kel and I had a good time. After looking at some rarely seen footage of me, though, it seems that I had a good time and Kel fell asleep:


Our last wine stop was Locals, a tasting room in Geyserville. Again, my two favorite folks were absent, so we tried a number of wines but didn't linger. Since the sun was still shining, we decided to drive over to "The 1", AKA the Pacific Coast Highway. There's something soothing about the ocean, and John Denver said it best: "Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy." It's hard to imagine anything more beautiful than the right day in California, but you can judge for yourself.






Michael drove us back to "The 101" as the sun set and Kel and I reprised favorites from my country mix. We were a hungry bunch when we arrived in SF, so we parked the car and headed to Espetus. What could please the three of us more than a place where the meat just keeps on coming. Like J, Espetus too had an ogle-worthy waiter. His inability to slice the meat correctly (and his pink shirt) made him that much cuter.

After dinner, Kel and Michael went home. I had the next day off, so I went to Badlands, sad to say. I had a bottle of water and a chat with Charlie, AKA "The Whoooh Guy". It didn't take long to realize that I was unlikely to meet a boy worthy of the day, so I packed up a smile and a bunch of wonderful memories and headed home.

Here's hoping your Labor Day was as good!