Halfway through the interview, Doctor Scott Mitchell knew his luck was turning around for the better.
Sitting on the edge of her chair across from him was an averaged height, curvy, green eyed brunette, with collar boned length hair. He could feel the tension radiating off of her. Her name was Sarah Taylor. Looking over her resume, she was in her late twenties and had recently finished medical school in the Caribbean. Despite the stereotypical stigma that came along with that, she looked otherwise quite ambitious on paper. She had gone on several international humanitarian trips promoting health for the less privileged, done a year-long specialty medical internship, was currently enrolled in a Master's of Public Health program, and was now actively pursuing a surgical residency. His colleagues over at the medical specialty hospital asked him to interview her for an additional internship involving specialty aspects of medicine, before acceptance to the surgical residency. Her dark hair was straight and sharply contrasted with her pale skin. Her face was quite easy on the eyes. She was also well endowed, which he could tell even underneath her fairly loose fitting scrubs that she had worn to the interview. Really she was quite different looking from the typical California looking woman that he was use to encountering on a daily basis, and particularly in his line of medical work. She was biting the bottom of her lip so hard it was blanched in color.
Scott figured that was because she was nervous. He was being hard on her.
"So, you have an impressive resume, but you weren't exactly at the top of your class grade-wise." And he continued, "you have no experience working with patients and clientele in the west coast region of the country." "In fact, you're from Chicago/the Midwest, which is universally known to be slower paced and friendly, what makes you think you'd be a good practitioner and aggressive surgeon here in LA?"
Sarah re-crossed her legs for the tenth time in as many minutes. She couldn't stop playing with her hands either. Doctor Mitchell looked friendly enough, but he was certainly difficult to impress. She had hoped to that her friendly, ambitious, and caring personality would shine through situation, but that plan was clearly not working.
"Um... Well," she answered tentatively, "I have very diverse experiences, so I am able to relate to and communicate with many varying social parameters of societal subcategories, I'm also very adaptable, and have experience in both limited resourced areas, as well as in academic and gold standard settings." "I am very friendly, which can come in handy a lot because many people appreciate good bedside manner." "I've also always been complimented on my hard work ethic, and that I am easy to get along with in the work setting." "I realize this is a new setting for me, but I've faced this before, and I'm a quick learner."
"People out here are different than you're accustomed to. Our clients and patients don't like being inconvenienced or kept waiting. They typically aren't friendly, and care more about efficiency and competency than bedside manner."
"Of course." "I understand sir."
Sarah re-crossed her legs the other way, wishing she had dressed more professionally. Doctor Mitchell looked so polished in his dress shirt and jacket. His clean-shaven face was handsome and his dark hair shone under the overhead lights. He had piercing blue eyes. He looked somewhat like her boyfriend that was on the east coast doing a surgical residency, who she missed terribly. She, in contrast, had intentionally worn her scrubs because she wanted to be taken professionally, and not at all judged on her looks.
Doctor Mitchell was already convinced to hire her, even though he remained being tough for the duration of the interview. In his line of work, and with how different she looked and acted, he was hoping to attract a different type and age group of clientele. It had been about five years since he graduated medical school with his three colleges that ran the practice with him. There were four divisions within the practice, general practice, reproduction, which he himself managed, plastic surgery, and dentistry.
He was growing tired of the older clientele base that had dominated the practice since he bought it over from the recently retired clinician before him, and was looking for ways to add more innovation and variety of clientele to his practice. He himself was in charge of the reproduction and fertility side of things, which included the need for male sperm donners. Obviously they had reached a dry spell from the older males that had been donating. The older receptionists and lack of variety and newer concepts scared away most of the young and healthy donners. For Doctor Mitchell's chosen line of work that was especially problematic. His expertise was in reproductive health, and for the past four years he had been trying to establish a roster of marketable sperm donors. With a local male patient-population averaging older than forty-five, who generally looked askance at the idea of sperm donation, this was hardly a flourishing aspect of his business. What he needed was a tool to entice the younger local men, who had the healthy sperm women wanted, to become his regular donors.
Sarah could be that tool, he imagined. His own libido had reacted immediately when she walked into the office, and the longer he interviewed her the more certain he became that she had true potential. She was smart enough and well experienced enough at this stage of her career to actively contribute to the medical aspect of things, but seemed supremely empathetic and malleable. He got the impression she would agree to just about anything so long as it was properly presented. And to top it all, she was noticeably reserved and high strung in a professional setting, which would make her all the easier to break in. And if she did the task well, sure he would help her land the residency that she wanted.
As the minutes clicked by, he eventually ran out of legitimate questions. Purely out of desire to see prolong the interview, he suggested that he needed to test her eyesight.
Sarah's blood pressure immediately sky rocketed at this request, but with sight being an important parameter of the job she reluctantly agreed.
He came around his desk and offered her a hand as she rose from her chair. Then he gestured toward the hallway and told her to head to the second exam room on the left. As Sarah made her way through his office door and then down the brightly-lit hallway, he followed a few paces behind and let his eyes wander her backside. She did not have the most voluptuous ass, but from underneath her scrub pants he could appreciate that it was tones, round, and perky. She definitely had a musculature component to her lower half, which he imagined would look good in the new attire he would demand her to wear on a day to day basis.
That worry was needless of course. Doctor Mitchell's face was pursed in lustful focus as he trailed behind her, eyes mesmerized by the rhythmic flex and release of her denim-clad derrière. She had the nicest little butt he could remember seeing in a long while.
When they reached the exam room, he flicked on the lights and tried to assert a professional demeanor. He asked Sarah to stand in front of the eye chart. As a quick test of her compliance, he walked up behind her and placed his hands around her ribcage just below the line of her bra.
"Just back up a little more," he said, pulling her gently away from the chart on the wall.
When she made no objection to this touch he slid his hands down to her waist. He adjusted her position a little more, feigning concern that she needed to be exactly the right distance from the wall. "Good," he said finally, giving her a quick pat on both shoulders before moving off to one side.
"Okay," he began, standing to the side and looking her up and down. "Please cover your left eye and read the last three letters in the 4th row."
"E, H, Y," Sarah recited, without a problem.
"Good. Now cover just your right eye, please. Read the first four letters in the 5th row."
"Z, I think, and then A, P - or that could be a D, then Q."
"That's a lot of uncertainty he said sternly."
Sarah took her hand off of her eye and sighed in defeat. "I'm almost leaglly blind in my left eye. It's a congenital birth defect and the eye itself is healthy, but my optic nerve to brain interpretation is off. "
"That's a serious physical deficit for someone that's aspiring to go into surgery." "You're going to have to work extra hard to make up for that Miss Taylor."
Sarah's face warmed to a pink flush with embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze downward. Scott looked her up and down again as her gaze was distracted.
He led her back to his office. Once there, he shut the door and motioned for her to drop into a small leather roll-arm couch that was in the opposite corner from his desk. Then he sat down in a matching chair nearby.
"Sarah," he announced, leaning forward to appear both intimate and professional at the same time. "I'm going to take a risk on you and hire you for the year long position."
Sarah let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Despite my reservations about your experience, physical deficit, and your misfit personality, I'm willing to take a risk on you."
" Thank you very much sir."
"Well, hear me out first. I have some conditions."
"Okay"
"You'll be a probationary employee during the first ninety days. That means any infraction of your employment agreement may be grounds for termination. I'll email that to you so you have a chance to read it before signing."
"Alright."
"You'll start on Monday, at 7:30 sharp. The clinic doesn't open until 10:00, but there is always work to do beforehand. Sometimes we stay open late too, so I'll expect you to be flexible in the evenings. Your pay rate for any overtime will accrue at time-and-a-half."
