Leaving the wrong job....?

For the last 5 years, I have had a vacation job during university holidays: I work in a museum. Not the small stuffy kind, the large, over a million visitors a year, amazing site, kind. It's had minor ups and downs over the lsat five years, but overall I have totally enjoyed it. I've been very lucky.

 This is not my museum! But it is a good one. Thanks to http://www.nyeparry.com/?page_id=619 for the picture.

I went back to work there recently after many months away (final exams) and was struck by a number of positives in this job which don't exist in medicine. I should have blogged about it at the time, but perhaps writing now will jog my thinking.

I love how in this job there is a team spirit, sometimes it's us against the world/tourists/tour group leaders/supervisors/powers that be, and that can unite a team, and sometimes it's us generally putting effort into ensuring that tourists and customers have a memorable few hours at our site, together. As a student it's difficult to really be "involved" in any hospital team, but none of the teams I've had anything to do with have had a team spirit that I could sense from my position as a student at the edge of the team.

One thing that particularly struck me is the culture of respect. It's a big group of people so of course some people grate on others a little, but even so there is a sense that the staff respect each other. In particular, people respect the supervisors, but not just because they're supervisors, but because a) they're (mostly) good at their supervising, b) are nice people, and c) they respect us. In medicine it sometimes feels like the seniors are respected because they demand respect, not because they deserve it. It creates a very different culture. It's not a big deal, and it's only noticeable when you start to think about it, or when you've been working elsewhere that doesn't have such a culture.

Recently in the museum a slight change in the system was trialled, and the supervisor asked my group of assistants for our thoughts and feedback - the senior staff genuinely want to know what the "junior" staff, the people actually implementing the changes, think about it, and will take those comments on board. It's not often that I've seen seniors in medicine asking for juniors' thoughts and feedback, except in a grilling and knowledge-testing sense.

Even at the busiest and most stressful times, people are generally happy and still so willing to help each other out. Again, not always evident in medicine. But maybe the stress is different - in the museum stressful times means long queues, angry customers, obnoxious tour group leaders etc. In medicine stressful times can mean the weight of the responsibility for patient's lives, especially when the line between a patient living or dying starts to thin. Perhaps the difference is stress contexts explains the differences in atmosphere here.


A colleague, for whom this is also "just" a vacation job, asked me today if I don't find this job a bit menial, since I have a good degree and will be a highly qualified professional (clearly indicating he finds it menial for this reason). I first told him he needed a slap, then pointed out I have two good degrees! Just because I'll be a qualified professional, in a totally different area to this job, doesn't mean this job is beneath me. It has taught me a great many skills, such as: communicating across language barriers and cultural barriers, communicating with children, diplomacy and tact in customer service, particularly with difficult customers (which transfers to diplomacy and tact in dealing with patients, particularly "difficult patients"), conveying complicated information in a way the recipient will understand, and the ever-useful skills of voice projection and crowd control. None of these are medical skills, but all of them are likely to be useful during my medical career. That's not something to sniff at.
There is the additional benefit that this role has enabled me to be competent and above all, confident, in dealing with many, many people, and confidence is not something one can acquire overnight, or just by magic or good intentions. The confidence I've gained from putting effort into this job, and knowing from the responses from colleagues and customers that I'm doing it well and making a small diference to someone's day, is something I couldn't have gained simply from being a medical student. A medical student I've found is frequently too much of a fifth wheel to have much of a sense of achievement (that's not to say that achievements aren't made, but just not on the same level).


Now the terrible bit is that I realised recently how much I enjoy this job, and how many of the things are appreciate are not present in medicine. I could only wonder why I'm leaving a job I've enjoyed, for one that predominantly scares me, in an environment which I don't always enjoy or feel respected or comfortable in. It feels a little bit mad.

Perhaps part of the reason I've enjoyed the job is because I know I won't be doing it forever, and perhaps if I were I would have a different approach to it. But I hadn't really thought about the fact that I would one day be leaving this job, in order to take up my forever-job, (the one I've been studying seven year for) but now it's suddenly here, and I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm really not sure if I want to!

I can at least be thankful that I've had employment which I enjoy, to return to every holiday (and some weekends), in a group where I feel part of the team even if I've been away for months, and have been able to go through my education with far more financial security than I otherwise would have.

After all, if medicine all goes pear-shaped, I might always have a nice job to return to! I could be a museum-doctor.

First, I have to get through, and make the most of, my last day tomorrow. It feels like the end of an era, and it feels silly to leave a job I like*. Needs must....

(*It was suggested to me that I'd have enough holiday from my doctor-job to return to my museum job occasionally, but 1. I do quite like the idea of having a holiday which is entirely a holiday, no job or revision or essay-writing to have to do, and 2. most importantly, I couldn't justify it. I'd be on a nice NHS salary, taking part-time holiday work away from school leavers, students and other people who really need the money, when I really won't - that's not right, and I wouldn't have particularly wanted someone earning good money to take my shifts away from me the last few years, when I've needed the money.)

This is what an anti-rape and anti-sexual abuse campaign looks like

via Khale at http://misspixnmix.tumblr.com whose wonderful "I do not have an eating disorder" comic I've mentioned previously.

This is an anti-rape campaign that places no blame, and no responsibility (except on the perpetrator), but encourages bystander intervention. It is amazing. Men Can Stop Rape, an American organisation, also seem amazing.

Did I mention I'm a feminist? It shouldn't come as any great surprise, as I hope this blog has so far made clear that I'm no doormat. TTBAMS is what a feminist looks like.

                        "I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express                        sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat"

                                                                                        - Rebecca West 



Before anyone thinks, I do know full well that this kind of campaign does not prevent every rape or sexual assault or abuse. But maybe it makes a difference, starfish-wise.

Saving the world, one starfish at a time (or not)

Before I start, I am under no illusions - I am not saving the world!

This morning, as I went out early, I found a starfish on the pavement, just by the doorstep. A real starfish - the photo is at the bottom. It looked wet and it seemed reasonable to think it might still be alive. I was amazed and wondered if the storm or rain last night had really been bad enough to pick up a starfish and carry it the 500m+ it would need to travel.... and rushed off to my appointment.
When I got back half an hour later, it was still there, so I took photos, and went to tell other half about it. He very sensibly pointed out that it was probably dropped there by a seagull (not as exciting as the idea of wether-induced flying starfish, but far more plausible). I dragged him out of bed and we hatched a plan to take it back to its home and put it in the sea.

I'll explain here that there is a sort of parable by which I'd like to live my life, commonly known as "the starfish story" or The Star Thrower, written by Loren Eiseley in 1969. It's been re-told many times in different ways, and I heard about it from my utterly uninspiring headteacher, who managed to inspire me with this - I can't remember anything else remotely inspirational or even interesting that he ever said.
The version I remember I think of as having a small boy as the thrower, others have an old man or a girl. The beach is covered in starfish which have been washed up after a storm. Someone, let's say a small boy, is walking along the beach, throwing starfish back into the sea, one by one. Someone else, I think an old man, walks up to him and says "why are you doing this? there are thousands of starfish here, you can't possibly make a difference". The boy picks up another starfish and throws it, saying "I made a difference to that one".

It's such a simple, beautiful story, and although I don't think of it often, it's stayed with me over the years. I understood the message to be: you don't have to change the whole world, but you can make a difference to someone, or even a few people. Even if you make a difference only to a few, you have still made a difference, you can still change lives.

Others perceive it as meaning you should do what you believe in no matter the criticism. On looking it up just now, some versions have the old man deciding to join the boy in throwing the starfish, and more and more people join in, ending with the rather twee "all the starfish were saved" (personally I don't think saving all the starfish is the point, I think the point is that it is always worth making a difference, even if you can't make a difference for everyone; you can't save the world - saving all the starfish kind of is saving the world, and feels unrealistic). In that version, the message can be that you achieve something if you all work together, or if you can persuade everyone that it is worth making a difference.

I think this story is one of the things that spurs me on to do what I do, or what I'm going to do, be it medicine, volunteering with seriously ill children (more on that another time), campaigning, volunteering in schools... Each patient in my medical career could be a potential starfish. Not that they've all come to me to be saved, but that even if I can't do everything, I can still make a difference. To remind me of this, I have two beautiful pictures of starfish - one a birthday card from the other half some years ago, and one a sparkly postcard I bought last year while presenting my work at a conference abroad. I want to frame them both.

Back to this morning: given that this story really means something to me, I thought it would be a great idea to live in out (on a minute scale) myself, and take our doorstep starfish back to the sea. I didn't want to do it on my own - I thought I might need help (my intention was to carry it on a baking tray, I thought that way it might not dry out too much), I wanted it to document the starfish saving adventure photographically, and also I thought I would feel less silly and look less nuts if there were two of us poking and picking up a starfish and carrying it along. So I woke up the other half, got back in bed for a bit, waited for him to properly wake up and get dressed and got some plastic bags and an oven tray together, took other half outside with me.... only to find the starfish had gone. I don't know what happened. Maybe another seagull came along and thought it looked tasty. Maybe the first seagull wanted another go. Maybe some other people had the same idea and got there first, and the starfish is now happily floating away.... I'll never know. But I'm kind of kicking myself for not getting straight back outside and doing it myself. Specially if the seagulls got it.

I don't even know if it was still alive in the first place. But I'm still a bit sad about it - next time I'll seize the opportunity to throw a starfish when I see it, not half an hour later.

However, the positives: I saw a starfish! I never even knew they lived in this country.
In this time of considerable stress about exams, whether I'm good enough to pass, whether I'm good enough to be a doctor, whether I even really want to be a junior doctor with the stress and responsibility and total lack of confidence in my non-existent abilities that that involves, it was nice to be reminded of a reason why I came here in the first place - to make a difference, even if only to a few starfish out of thousands. That I can be that difference, and that it's worth it even if you can't save the world.

To have a real starfish to remind my of all this, to make me keep going - maybe that starfish was on my doorstep for a reason. I don't believe in fate - that would have been a nice explanation. But sometimes things happen for a reason, and today's starfish could have been there to rejuvenate and encourage me, to remind me to keep going. So I will.

[I realise this post could give away where I am, and therefore which medical school I'm at. And this is supposedly an anonymous blog. Please note I am not necessarily at home, or not necessarily at the place where I study - I might have gone away somewhere. Or be staying with family. You never know - make no assumptions.]