It is Monday morning. After a weekend of call, sign outs and hang overs, Monday- morning reports are never fun. Or may be they are just too much fun. Tempers fly, judgment is passed and walk outs are witnessed.
Two Attendings ( head of the hierarchy in the medical residents food chain) are fighting. I should say discussing as that appears to be the most politically correct terminology that is acceptable these days. People don’t talk any more. No one is going to tell you, they hate your guts. No one is going to tell you, I know you are judging me, guess what I judge me too but right now I need you to understand. So people refrain from and open conversation and pretend to be happy.
I notice the weary residents. The one from the night call has already looked at his watch twice and the clock on the wall behind him 4 times. Like that will really change any thing? People don’t get hints. You need to tell them. Even after you actually tell them that the squabbling is going to go no where, there is no guarantee that your message will hit home . So while the residents wait for the show to end, the Attendings massage their egos.
There are student loans to pay and hence a shopping spree is indicated. There is a marriage in trouble and hence a night out with buddies is warranted. The children really need their mother, who completely believes in day care. We find a way to hide our issues. Mostly we hide ourselves.