Tuesday, February 1, 2011
One of my close friends in undergrad, Jen, later went to medical school. During her second year of residency, she was out gallivanting one evening and met a handsome rascal. As he chatted her up, she asked him what he did for work. He told her he just started medical school. She asked him a few questions about classes, to which he gave vague answers in a smarmy voice. And then with a wink and a smile he concluded it was probably over her head.
I am not an expert, but I might suggest that one definitive way not to get an invite home is to basically tell a very attractive girl she is too stupid to understand you are elbow deep in cadavers and learning about biochemistry, neuroscience, and clinical ethics.
She, being ever poised, merely laughed inside. Young buck, oh so full of confidence and swell. Later that night she ran into him again and he actually asked for her number, she smiled. She then got a bar napkin upon which she wrote:
Dr. Jennifer _________
Not only did she handle it with class, but because she was still smart ass enough to write the phone number Tommy Tutone made famous. And clearly, who is the idiot? I don't think you need to be the rock star of Trivia Thursdays to recognize that number if you merely say it out loud. And now I can say that the definitive way not to get invited into PantyTown is to tell a super cute girl she is too stupid to understand medical school when she is already a DOCTOR.