So I got myself a new temp-to-permanent job as a secretary and practice manager for a cosmetic/plastic/reconstructive surgeon. I'm on an intense full-time easing-in temp schedule, but it's the best job I could've hoped for; early this week I may be looking in on a breast augmentation, and the week after maybe a post-mastectomy breast reconstruction. I've yet to meet the Doctor I'm working for, but from all accounts he seems to be decent, with minimal God-complex. His wife is the current practice manager and doesn't have any record in the system of having had any cosmetic work done, which says a lot. Although he is known more as a cosmetic surgeon, he does an equal amount of work with elderly lesions, cancers, hands, reconstructions and worker's compensation patients, if not more, which is pretty cool.
I've been given a lot of literature to read over the weekend to better get my head around operating procedure, as well as appropriate administration procedure for the surgery. I'm surprised at how easily I've absorbed everything, and it probably has a lot to do with the fact(s) that; a)I was going insane at home, dwelling on my unemployment; b)I love learning about medicine and science when it's not in a school environment, and; c)I really want to keep this job and understand that I need to prove myself above and beyond their expectations during the temp period of roughly 1 month. I also get to do debt-collecting (no kneecapping -- I asked), autoclave sterilisation, and quoting private cosmetic patients. RAD.
I have claimed a Size C implant as my very own paperweight at work, and it fills me with glee to see it and know it is mine. I've posted a couple pics for you to see what I get all day -- and FYI, when it's cross-sectioned, it feels like the inside of a Turkish Delight. Mmmmm.
The downside of it all is that I've had to spend a small fortune fixing myself to look appropriate for the position. Suits, haircolour, jewellery, nails, blah blah blah. Now I don't mind getting dolled up for a specific occasion but I was very comfortable dealing with doctors and labstaff in my jeans and a hoodie, so this in itself is quite a seachange for me. I haven't had jet-black hair since early highschool and now feel like a charred goth, my feet are aching from walking in heels, and my ears feel droopy from clunky earrings. My bottom lip feels bizarre having removed my labret for the job, so I'm always tonguing it when nobody's looking. I've had my fun with that anyway, so it wasn't a bad thing getting rid of it. Eh. Despite all that whinging, I have to admit that I feel a lot more serious about my career, so it's not like it's all a bad thing.
With having taken on a new full-time position, I've had to send Charli to childcare. This is more traumatic on me, apparently, since she's busy becoming a ladeh. She spent Thursday and Friday with Grandma and Mat, and has been so keen on the idea of going to "school" this week coming up that she has not wanted a bar of me. She's growing up so fast, it's sort of depressing. Mat and I visited her carer for the first time this morning and she was quite pleasant and seems like the kind of lady I'd like to have look after Chuck while I work. I guess life has to change sometimes to move forward, and I certainly don't want us getting stagnant.
On another note, I had another shoot a little while ago - I should get the proofs this week and if the photographer has kindly sent along his release form, then I may be able to publish them soon. I have to admit that while the photographer was totally legit and professional, I was nowhere near as comfortable with this shoot as I was with Cat O' Nine Tails, and I truly believe it's a gender thing - sorry. It was a studio shoot and the most horrible weather, so it immediately felt extremely sterile and timed. Eh, that's life.
Oh! And I'm seeing Pearl Jam/Kings Of Leon this Tuesday night -- WEEEEE! Tony T, I know you don't approve but ahldowhaahwon!
So that's where I leave this post for now. Let me know where you're all at and I'll slap you on if you're a decent read or you were on my previous blogroll(s).
Big furious-implant-pokey love,
PS. That implant-poking photo... hectic -- that thing is bigger than my face.
PS2. That last picture is our kitten, Burger. He's a camerashy little homosexual cat who mauls men randomly and has an ex-teste flap that now looks like hairy flesh cabbage. He's the radness.