Workin' hard...or hardly workin'

Doctor, I think we got our blood donor! -Servo

If you have known me for any length of time (preferabaly from infancy on) you would know that in my younger days I was rather shy. As in the girl who only spoke to those who she knew and hated meeting new people shy. Please, don't ask me what happened (as so many who are accustomed to my mouth so often do)-I'm just grateful I'm not that way anymore.

I remember back in the high school days when I was in **cough, cough** marching band, and we would have to sell subs and pizzas in order to make money to go on our yearly band trip. I HATED selling things. I HATED selling girl scout cookies door to door when I was little (yes I have had the door slammed into my then 6 year old face), and I HATED selling those stupid band subs and pizzas to people as a teen. It was a truly painful job to do. I would retreat to my room every afternoon after school as quickly as possible in order to pretend to be doing copious amounts of homework, all the while escaping my mothers repeated requests for me to get on the phone and sell those darn band subs. As she put it, I needed to "Hump it, and get it done".

Dear Lord. Yes. She actually told me to "Hump It." To this day I can not reflect on that phrase without my face going completely beet red. My poor mom had no idea in the world what that phrase could possibly mean to a 16 year old.

So year after torturous year, we would go through band sub season with my doing the best freaking homework job ever, and my mother hounding me to "Hump It."

I did eventually quit the marching band, not so much because of the horrendous sales job I did (although that was a good part of it) but because our band leader was just a terrible, horrible, thoughtless, evil, fat pony-tailed man. And so I was out.

Since then I have never, ever taken a job where I had to rely on my sales savvy in order to pay my bills. Instead after high school and while pursuing a college degree (that took 10 years to acheive) I worked in Pharmacy as a pharmacy tech. People were usually too giddy and excited to get their meds to really give a hard time (except that guy who wouldn't pay the $10.01 copay because 'his copay was $10.00 dammit!')

So here I am with a fresh, new college degree and a brand new job as a clinical research assistant. I cannot begin to tell you how awesome my job is. I get to work in a world renowned Trauma Center here in Charm city, and get to be in the middle of all of the action. However I was thinking earlier today about how interesting my job is, and how, back in the day, not in a million years would I have ever thought I could do this particular job. What is it exactly that I do you ask? Well I have to approach families and patients during the worst possible moments of their lives and "sell" my current medical study. I have to cold approach the mothers, fathers, husbands, wives and children of the very people who have their life hanging in the balance and "sell" the idea that this study will not only benefit their lives, but the lives of others as well. I have to prove to them that my taking samples of their blood/brain tissue/other bodily fluids will someday create a breakthrough in the world of trauma medicine that will benefit millions of people. I have to consent people who have had their limbs broken, to let me put probes on their heads in order to compile a control group of people with normal brain function. I realize that in fact I am doing just exactly what my old self would have given my left hand to avoid. I am putting myself out there for rejection...I am putting myself out there to become attached to a patient who might not make it...but my work is making a difference.

Would I rather sell band subs than approach the distraught family of someone who may help us save thousands of lives?

Not a chance.

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