Ten years ago, on May 13, 2013, I graduated from vet school. Ten. Years. In all honesty, I only went to graduation for my Babcia. I knew it was important to her to see me walk across that stage, and she will always be one of the most important and influential people in my life. Graduations, or any large events where people may be looking at or watching me for any length of time, even a few seconds, are not my thing. (I didn’t got to my undergrad graduation. I’m pretty sure I worked that day.)
Ten years ago, I had no job lined up. I had sent out 50, maybe more, cold-call resumes to local and not-so-local veterinary practices. I applied to jobs nearby as they posted ads for them. The thought of not having a job and a quarter million dollars in debt from vet school alone stressed me out beyond belief. I remember randomly tearing up while out to dinner with Justin one evening because of it. Despite not having a job, I stress-bought all kinds of small items I absolutely did not need. Those are the memories I have of the first two months out of school.
In mid-July, I had an interview with the practice that ultimately gave me my first doctor job. I remember it was mid-July because Justin’s mom’s boyfriend passed away unexpectedly. My interview was scheduled the day that Justin was heading down to South Jersey to be with his family and help his mom however he could. I met him down there the following day.
The practice seemed busy at the time of my interview. I didn’t really know all of the things to ask or look for at the time; I just felt desperate for a job. When they offered it, I was more than happy to sign on the dotted line even though the job was 62 miles and an hour drive away. I went through a tank of gas every two days in my Jeep Wrangler to some days see only 2-4 appointments when all was said and done.
After only five months, the practice manager came to me and said that they would not be able to continue paying me at my contracted rate if I didn’t make them more money. How on earth was I supposed to make them more money when only 2-4 appointments were being scheduled for me? The male owner, at one point, pulled me aside and went over my various transactions to suggest that I should order more radiographs and that for every ear cytology I performed, I should also make certain that the techs cleaned the patient’s ears.
Around the same time, one of the people I had sent a cold call resume to months before contacted me because one of his associates was moving on to a new opportunity. The day that I gave my notice, the female practice owner took over one of my surgeries, I can only assume, because I was too slow for her taste shelling a lipoma out of a dog’s flank. I remember one of the technicians coming up to me afterwards to express how terrible he thought that was of her and that he believed I was a good vet and doing just fine without her input there. I looked at him and said, “It’s fine; I’m quitting in an hour anyway.”
I gave my notice on a Monday. Tuesday was my day off. I had a clause in my contract that said I needed to work at least 6 weeks following my notice. (It might’ve been 8 weeks for that particular job.) On Wednesday, I came in and saw my morning appointments. In the early afternoon, the male owner called me into his office. He told me to see the appointment that was being loaded into a room for me, and since I only had one other that afternoon, I should pack up my things once I finished, that one of the other associates would see my last one of the day, and leave. Have a nice life.
We had an interesting exchange a few weeks later when they tried to tell me that I owed them money for one thing or another. I informed them that I never got my final paycheck. The last paycheck I got from them was for the pay period ending on January 19, 2014. I was told to go home and not come back on January 29th. They said they didn’t owe me that money because we had received two paychecks in January already, so we were even. Eventually, I never paid them anything back for whatever it was they thought I owed them money for, and they never sent me a paycheck for that last partial pay period that I was employed by them.
My new employer allowed me to start work early, which was nice. It also gave me a couple of weeks to just settle in at his practice and see how everything ran there while his other employee finished out her time. I knew almost immediately that I would not be staying at that hospital long-term either, but I told myself that I needed to work there for at least a year to not look like a job-hopper. I wasn’t paying the tolls I did for the first job, and my commute was much shorter in terms of distance and about 40-45 minutes away instead of an hour. I also had a slightly higher base salary and did sometimes brought in enough revenue to actually receive a production bonus.
I can’t say that I learned too much about medicine in my year and a half at that job, but I learned a lot about how not to be as a boss. He and I never really got along. Everyone knew it. I was associate number 23 in his computerized records that he had had for 10-12 years at that point. He only had two associates at a time back then, so take that how you will. I will never regret my time there though because the of the unique and wonderful bond between the support staff and the associate doctors. I also met my favorite colleague ever (and if all pans out, future business partner) there. We spent countless hours in our ice cave of an office, eating apology peanut chews and Hershey’s bars with almonds that we received as penance when our boss knew he had gone too far with one or the other us or one of our cases and discussing the practice that we would one day have for ourselves.
I gave my notice at that job the day after my favorite colleague’s last day at the practice. My boss’ response was, “I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you.” My (thought only) response to that was, “Neither, please. Don’t actually touch me at all.” Sexual harassment and inappropriate touching of his staff by him were all too common and only one of the reasons I knew I wouldn’t be there forever.
I’ve been, mostly happy, at my current practice ever since. There have been ups and downs, mostly since the pandemic began. I have learned a lot about medicine here, and I have really grown as a doctor in the last 7.5 years. Impostor syndrome is a very real thing that continues to rear its ugly head from time to time. I’ve been lucky to have wonderful doctors surrounding me for most of my time here, doctors with years more experience than I have or just very different experience than I have, and all of them are always more than willing to share their knowledge and provide input on cases. They are the reason I am the doctor that I am today. Those doctors and all of the patients I have been fortunate enough to treat over these years and the amazing support staff bolstering me up day-to-day.
I don’t know exactly what my veterinary future holds, but I’m excited about it. The dream has always been to have my own practice. Since I paid off my student loans in November, I know the dream is that much closer to a reality. I’m starting to think about what that really looks like for me and slowly getting into the details of what I need to do for it to happen. It’s a little bit terrifying, but I hope it will be satisfying in the end. Perhaps the only thing that could make it even better is if Babcia would have been able to physically be here for that day too.
“If I had asked people what they wanted, they would’ve said faster horses.” ~Henry Ford
