I've started working at my dad's dental office over the summer months. Being the bosses daughter definitely has its perks, such as the whole application process. Here is how I got my job:
Setting: Driving to school one morning in April
Dad: Hey Elena, I was thinking, how would you like to work reception at the office this summer? That's what your sister did.
Me: What will you pay me Dad?
Dad: X amount of dollars an hour. You'll just be in charge of filing, and talking to patients, and basically just help with whatever needs to be done around the office. And we don't work Fridays, so you'll have weekends off.
Me: Oh okay.
Dad: Okay then.
(Both resume staring impassively out the windshield)
Forget resumes, job interviews and all that jazz. Just a drive to school is all it takes when you're a daughter.
But here's the thing, and in fact, the purpose of this blog: to maintain some sort of professionalism at the office, I'm supposed to call my dad Dr. Redd at work. That in itself is an adjustment. Every time I say it, I feel like I'm talking to someone else.
Plus most patients know I'm the dentist's kid. There are a number of ways they can know this:
A) They have known me since I was teeny-tiny. So they walk into the office, see me sitting at the front desk, and say; "Elena? Are you working here? Wow! You've gotten so big."
Then the pinching of cheeks and the cooing over how old I am and how old they feel commences.
B) Across from my desk there's a family picture hanging on the wall. Patients will wander over to take a look. They'll look at the picture, than look at me, then back at the picture.
Patient: Are you his daughter?
Me: Yes.
Patint: Is that you?
Me: Yes.
Patient: Oh.
C) My absolute favourite:
My dad is in the operatory with a new patient. I enter.
Me: Hey, I need the insurance info.
Dad: Do I have it?
Me: Yeah it's in the file I gave you.
Dad: Can you take it later?
Me: No, I need it now otherwise I can't print the insurance claim.
Patient: Are you his daughter?
Me: Yeah.
Patient: I figured. Only a daughter can get away with that.
That pretty much says it all.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
More Murr Quotes
I told you this list would continue.
"White males have had it too good for too long."
"When in doubt, write it out."
"There's the average citizens of this world, and then there's prof-essss-ional writers."
"A MAN IS DEAD. He is actively dead."
"All I'm looking for is a 'Hey Mabel.'"
"This is a course where the less you do, the higher your mark is."
"A two-shot is when there's two people in the shot. No, babies don't count. If they're holding a baby it's a 1 and a hlaf shot."
"Any questions on that? I can't remember the point so I'll move on."
Nope, no explanation. I'm posting this just for my own personal amusement.
"White males have had it too good for too long."
"When in doubt, write it out."
"There's the average citizens of this world, and then there's prof-essss-ional writers."
"A MAN IS DEAD. He is actively dead."
"All I'm looking for is a 'Hey Mabel.'"
"This is a course where the less you do, the higher your mark is."
"A two-shot is when there's two people in the shot. No, babies don't count. If they're holding a baby it's a 1 and a hlaf shot."
"Any questions on that? I can't remember the point so I'll move on."
Nope, no explanation. I'm posting this just for my own personal amusement.
I'm a Journalism Major, I Have No Life
Yes, it has been a while. A long while. But, in my defense, I have no life. So.....
The thing about my program is that you take 6 courses a semester, and a lot of those courses are very time consuming. It's not like normal people, who can just whip up an essay at 3 in the morning. No, you have to interview people, and shoot video, and take pictures. Such homework cannot be done in the middle of the night.
So all you people who complain about your whole 4 coourses, I have no sympathy for you.
The thing about my program is that you take 6 courses a semester, and a lot of those courses are very time consuming. It's not like normal people, who can just whip up an essay at 3 in the morning. No, you have to interview people, and shoot video, and take pictures. Such homework cannot be done in the middle of the night.
So all you people who complain about your whole 4 coourses, I have no sympathy for you.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Thank You. Now Get Me Off This Stupid Board!
WARNING: This blog may come across as a bit derogatory towards our healthcare and those who work in the industry. For the record, I am very appreciative of all the paramedics, nurses, and doctors involved in this incident.
Car accidents are no fun.
On Thursday January 31, after school (after quite a good day I might add) I was driving home when I smashed into the car ahead of me on Crowchild. Do not ask me for the details. All you need to know is I smashed.
So I get out of my car, make sure the other guy is okay (he's way too nice, considering), and then the ambulance shows up. The paramedics ask us both if we're okay. I mention that my neck is a little sore. Bam! Papramedic immediately puts his hands around my neck.
"Don't move, look around or blink! You might be paralyzed!" he says.
For crying out loud, I thought it was just whiplash. But hey, this guy's just doing his job, so I go with it.
They say they have to take me to the hospital. My neck may be broken so they have to run some x-rays. I'm basically sure my neck isn't broken, but to keep the nice paramedics happy, I play along.
Finally they let me call my mom. The only problem is, they still didn't know exactly where they were taking me, so my conversation went something like this:
"Hi Mom, I've been in a car accident. I have to go to the hospital. No I don't know what's wrong with me. No, they haven't told me which hospital yet. I have to go cause they're putting a brace around my neck, I'll call you."
And then of course, they took away my phone, so I couldn't call her back. My poor parents are sitting at home wondering where I am, only knowing I'm alive, but no more, and they can't even find out what hospital I'm in cause I'm an adult and that's "classified information."
So here I am, in the hospital, alone, wearing a neck brace and strapped onto a board. They didn't even let me sit down by myself, cause of "injuries."
The doctor comes by, and asks me if I'm in any kind of pain. Seeing as the only thing that's bothering me is my inability to move, I say no. Stiffness isn't what she's talking about.
So they go ahead and order the x-rays. Keep in mind, that this entire time, I am strapped onto a very uncomfortable board, I have been forbidden to move even an inch, and my neck is in a brace so I have no choice but to stare at the stained ceiling.
They wheel me to the x-ray place, and leave me in the hall for the x-ray technicians to come and collect me. Through this whole ordeal, I'd kept a pretty brave face. But laying there, in the hallway of the hospital all alone, strapped to board that's starting to get painful, and not even being able to turn my head made me want to cry. I have never felt so pitiful.
They take the x-ray, and wheel me back. After I'm dropped off in the hall again, and dropped off outside the emergency room. Laying there, waiting for verdict, I'm in excrutiating pain, and not from my car accident, from that stupid board. I'm still alone, but I can hear the sound of people talking nearby. This is when I really started to cry.
Eventually, one of the nurses notices, and tells the doctor to hustle up. She affirms what I knew from the start, that my neck is not, in fact, broken. She asks me if I'm in any pain again, and this time, I say;
"Yes. From the board."
I said it nicely though. I actually wanted to scream. At last, at long last, they let me off that stupid thing, and my dad finally squeezes the whereabouts out of the hospital policies and picks me up.
All right seriously, I appreciate our healthcare system, but if I haven't already gotten my point across, sometimes they're completely ridiculous.
Car accidents are no fun.
On Thursday January 31, after school (after quite a good day I might add) I was driving home when I smashed into the car ahead of me on Crowchild. Do not ask me for the details. All you need to know is I smashed.
So I get out of my car, make sure the other guy is okay (he's way too nice, considering), and then the ambulance shows up. The paramedics ask us both if we're okay. I mention that my neck is a little sore. Bam! Papramedic immediately puts his hands around my neck.
"Don't move, look around or blink! You might be paralyzed!" he says.
For crying out loud, I thought it was just whiplash. But hey, this guy's just doing his job, so I go with it.
They say they have to take me to the hospital. My neck may be broken so they have to run some x-rays. I'm basically sure my neck isn't broken, but to keep the nice paramedics happy, I play along.
Finally they let me call my mom. The only problem is, they still didn't know exactly where they were taking me, so my conversation went something like this:
"Hi Mom, I've been in a car accident. I have to go to the hospital. No I don't know what's wrong with me. No, they haven't told me which hospital yet. I have to go cause they're putting a brace around my neck, I'll call you."
And then of course, they took away my phone, so I couldn't call her back. My poor parents are sitting at home wondering where I am, only knowing I'm alive, but no more, and they can't even find out what hospital I'm in cause I'm an adult and that's "classified information."
So here I am, in the hospital, alone, wearing a neck brace and strapped onto a board. They didn't even let me sit down by myself, cause of "injuries."
The doctor comes by, and asks me if I'm in any kind of pain. Seeing as the only thing that's bothering me is my inability to move, I say no. Stiffness isn't what she's talking about.
So they go ahead and order the x-rays. Keep in mind, that this entire time, I am strapped onto a very uncomfortable board, I have been forbidden to move even an inch, and my neck is in a brace so I have no choice but to stare at the stained ceiling.
They wheel me to the x-ray place, and leave me in the hall for the x-ray technicians to come and collect me. Through this whole ordeal, I'd kept a pretty brave face. But laying there, in the hallway of the hospital all alone, strapped to board that's starting to get painful, and not even being able to turn my head made me want to cry. I have never felt so pitiful.
They take the x-ray, and wheel me back. After I'm dropped off in the hall again, and dropped off outside the emergency room. Laying there, waiting for verdict, I'm in excrutiating pain, and not from my car accident, from that stupid board. I'm still alone, but I can hear the sound of people talking nearby. This is when I really started to cry.
Eventually, one of the nurses notices, and tells the doctor to hustle up. She affirms what I knew from the start, that my neck is not, in fact, broken. She asks me if I'm in any pain again, and this time, I say;
"Yes. From the board."
I said it nicely though. I actually wanted to scream. At last, at long last, they let me off that stupid thing, and my dad finally squeezes the whereabouts out of the hospital policies and picks me up.
All right seriously, I appreciate our healthcare system, but if I haven't already gotten my point across, sometimes they're completely ridiculous.
Murray Shooting His Mouth Off
I have this professor named Murray Cunningham. Or, Murray. We never call him anything else. He teaches me Broadcasting and News Agenda and everyday he says the most outrageous things. He always makes sure we know when he's telling us something important and when he's "shooting his mouth off," but I'm still laughing through most of his classes. It occurred to me the other day that I want to remember some of the things this guy says, cause, well, I think it's funny. You probably won't, but I'm writing them anyway, cause I think it's funny, and Marie might too. Or other journalism students, but I know Marie will read this.
(When asked who to use for shooting a visual sequence) "I don't care if you shoot your MOTHER."
(Said at the beginning of every class) "We'll start now, cause we always start on time."
(When describing complaints sent into the TV station) "Men are like whatever and women are all like Rawrrrr!" (with clawing action)
"The most important part of TV is hair."
(The affects of mentioning animals on the news) "Plastic bags, blah, blah, blah. I'm doing my stuff, and then Aha! The sea turtles!"
(All said in describing how to write copy stories):
"A bank, Was robbed. Yesterday." (Said with typing action)
"We tell stories. We tell tales. We spin yarns."
"CBC. This is a word pronounced Cubuk."
"Broadcasters are a unigue batch of retarded people."
No, I can't explain it to you. But it's funny if you know Murr. This list will continue..............
(When asked who to use for shooting a visual sequence) "I don't care if you shoot your MOTHER."
(Said at the beginning of every class) "We'll start now, cause we always start on time."
(When describing complaints sent into the TV station) "Men are like whatever and women are all like Rawrrrr!" (with clawing action)
"The most important part of TV is hair."
(The affects of mentioning animals on the news) "Plastic bags, blah, blah, blah. I'm doing my stuff, and then Aha! The sea turtles!"
(All said in describing how to write copy stories):
"A bank, Was robbed. Yesterday." (Said with typing action)
"We tell stories. We tell tales. We spin yarns."
"CBC. This is a word pronounced Cubuk."
"Broadcasters are a unigue batch of retarded people."
No, I can't explain it to you. But it's funny if you know Murr. This list will continue..............
Friday, January 11, 2008
Risky Business?
There are several misconceptions about journalists. In Hollywood movies, the journalists have three roles.
1. The jerks who tell lies about the protagonist, and then fall for said protagonist. (Hello Runaway Bride)
2. A pack of press people who harass the protagonist at first for good, and eventually to the protagonist's ruin in a film about being yourself no matter what others, (the press) think about you.
3. As the protagonist, journalists are portrayed as the daring type, willing to sacrifice everything, from their integrity to their lives for the sake of a scoop.
For the record, all the above are myths. I have no intention of sneaking into an evil multimillionaire's laire (probably cause I have no Superman to save me), and while I may have to chase the mayor down the street for a quote, I generally try to avoid the obnoxious journalist stereotype.
But you see, no stereotype is completely unfounded. Have you never heard of Daniel Pearl? And no, I'm not going to Iraq, but my point is that no type of journalism is whithout risks. I mean, you're in the business of going up to strangers and often asking them personal questions, or entering high danger areas all so you get a story.
I had my first brush with the risky side of things today. For a photo assignment, I headed down to Baker Park to take some pictures. I thought I'd get a cool shot of the ice floating down the river. So I climb down the steep bank with my camera hanging around my neck.
Of course I slipped. Murphy's law says so.
And no, I did not smash my thousand dollar camera. To be honest, that's all I was worried about. After taking the picture, I climbed out of the bushes, literally covered in burrs.
What a sight I must of been for the joggers. This girl coming out of the bushes, looking like a wild thing with dishevelled hair, smudged with dirt, and decorated with burrs. All the while clutching her Canon Rebel XTi to her chest.
But hey! I got the shot.
1. The jerks who tell lies about the protagonist, and then fall for said protagonist. (Hello Runaway Bride)
2. A pack of press people who harass the protagonist at first for good, and eventually to the protagonist's ruin in a film about being yourself no matter what others, (the press) think about you.
3. As the protagonist, journalists are portrayed as the daring type, willing to sacrifice everything, from their integrity to their lives for the sake of a scoop.
For the record, all the above are myths. I have no intention of sneaking into an evil multimillionaire's laire (probably cause I have no Superman to save me), and while I may have to chase the mayor down the street for a quote, I generally try to avoid the obnoxious journalist stereotype.
But you see, no stereotype is completely unfounded. Have you never heard of Daniel Pearl? And no, I'm not going to Iraq, but my point is that no type of journalism is whithout risks. I mean, you're in the business of going up to strangers and often asking them personal questions, or entering high danger areas all so you get a story.
I had my first brush with the risky side of things today. For a photo assignment, I headed down to Baker Park to take some pictures. I thought I'd get a cool shot of the ice floating down the river. So I climb down the steep bank with my camera hanging around my neck.
Of course I slipped. Murphy's law says so.
And no, I did not smash my thousand dollar camera. To be honest, that's all I was worried about. After taking the picture, I climbed out of the bushes, literally covered in burrs.
What a sight I must of been for the joggers. This girl coming out of the bushes, looking like a wild thing with dishevelled hair, smudged with dirt, and decorated with burrs. All the while clutching her Canon Rebel XTi to her chest.
But hey! I got the shot.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Some People Need Hobbies
As a journalism student, you're expected to comsume news like normal people consume oxygen. Over Christmas, I took a break from all this, but now back in school mode, and with a big assignment due, I'm reading the news cover to cover. And not just the daily paper. I'm making up for my slacker ways and reading the old ones piled up on my desk.
So while flipping through the Herald, looking for stories about visible minorites, (stupid ACOM 2217 assignment), I stumbled across this article. Basically the gist of it was that some girl named Dawn Sherman was filing a lawsuit against an Illinois law which states that public schools must have a moment of silence "for reflection and prayer" each day. The moment of silence is about 15 seconds long. Sherman was offended by being "forced" to talk to God.
Now I know the United States likes to sue each other for suing's sake, and any excuse justifies a lawsuit, but 15 seconds of silence? Come on.
What's wrong with 15 seconds of silence anyway? It's not like the Illinois public schools are strapping students to a chair and shoving prayers down their throats. I'm guessing most students sleep in the moment of silence anyway. Just as soon as they put the word "pray" anywhere, a bunch of atheists jump up and declare that they are offended, and all religious connotations must be removed from the face of the planet Earth. Has it ever occurred to people that the avoidance of all religious matters is offensive too? Freedom of religion is not the removal of religion, it's the tolerance or all religious views. Even the mainstream ones.
So for crying out loud, let the kids have their moment of reflection, prayer, sleeping, etc. Maybe then Dawn Sherman can reflect on better ways to spend her youth than filing pointless lawsuits.
So while flipping through the Herald, looking for stories about visible minorites, (stupid ACOM 2217 assignment), I stumbled across this article. Basically the gist of it was that some girl named Dawn Sherman was filing a lawsuit against an Illinois law which states that public schools must have a moment of silence "for reflection and prayer" each day. The moment of silence is about 15 seconds long. Sherman was offended by being "forced" to talk to God.
Now I know the United States likes to sue each other for suing's sake, and any excuse justifies a lawsuit, but 15 seconds of silence? Come on.
What's wrong with 15 seconds of silence anyway? It's not like the Illinois public schools are strapping students to a chair and shoving prayers down their throats. I'm guessing most students sleep in the moment of silence anyway. Just as soon as they put the word "pray" anywhere, a bunch of atheists jump up and declare that they are offended, and all religious connotations must be removed from the face of the planet Earth. Has it ever occurred to people that the avoidance of all religious matters is offensive too? Freedom of religion is not the removal of religion, it's the tolerance or all religious views. Even the mainstream ones.
So for crying out loud, let the kids have their moment of reflection, prayer, sleeping, etc. Maybe then Dawn Sherman can reflect on better ways to spend her youth than filing pointless lawsuits.
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