Hey look what I wrote a year ago (pay attention it will important for the next post)

DAMMIT I MISS BLOGGING. I MISS PUTTING OUT DAILY POSTS. BUT THE LIFE, IT GETS BUSY.

so you get this. Which is very good and very important for the next post.

and a damn good post in and of itself ;)

Original title of this post:

Second interview: Reserved



I drove there a few nights ago. Went to the interview place. Met with the receptionist and she lead me to a conference room.

There sat about forty staff. It was the largest group interview I had ever had. After that group listened to my story, my professional exploits and adventures, they all left and four doctors remained.

Me and the four doctors chatted. Spoke clinical speak. I was very intimidated.

And tired. This driving four hours to new interview places is wearing me out.

And telling my story over and over again is wearing me out. The weight of my decisions are wearing me out.

I hope it went well. I mean, I was sitting in a room with four doctors. Doctors and nurses have different training, different language. We do the same things though. Treat patients. And while everyone practices differently, we all have the same goals. Hopefully.

It was very weird. I mean, who walks into an interview and finds forty people waiting there? And then gets a second go round of questions and answers with four people. But, they kept having me go to more rooms and find out more things. And they were having a pot luck and wanted me to join.

Have some cheesecake! Have some of that ambrosia salad! Well worth the time to try the sloppy joes!

Or Spanish hamburgers as it is called around these parts.

It was about three hours into the interview at this part. I literally had to excuse myself at this point. I have to drive back I said.

It was nice and weird at all the same time. I hope I rose to the occasion.

I wasn't on my full game though. I was . . . . reserved. Normally I am bouncy and confident. But this is me as a nurse. I am a now a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner. Still getting my feet on the ground.

What helped was my wardrobe. I had my black, knee high leather boots on. The ones with the four inch heal. I had a pretty dress and my hair all cute. Wore make up. Smiled and spoke.

But speaking in these types of interviews is very different. There are no stock questions like 'What is your greatest weakness or Where do you see yourself in 10 years?'

It is, "How comfortable are you with prescribing these types of drugs?" or "What is your experience with this type of patient population with x or y diagnosis?" And honestly there are pockets of certain populations and diagnosis I have never seen. And some I understand like the back of my hand.

And I try my best to stay concrete and in the here and now. I try not to lapse into waxing poetic or getting all philosophical. And I remember that the majority of people in the science fields (i.e. MEDICINE) are not artsy like me. So I let my right brain show more.

Which is not something I am use to. Speaking from the right brain. And again, there was a language barrier to content with. Doctors are trained one way and nurses another. Each with its on shorthand and vernacular. I wonder if I made sense. I actually ask them this. They assure me that I do indeed make sense. God I hope I did.

And I was so very honest. I say things that I haven't rehearsed. I say things I haven't said out loud before.

All in all it was hard to read them. The interviewers. There was no head nodding or agreeing with me. Just listening and reservedness. And there was some warmth at the end. But, I am not sure if they got me, or perhaps they saw me as I am.

A brand new Psych-NP. I am barely a fetus at this point. My heart is strong and I am starting to wiggle. And given the right place I will grow ten feet tall.

I hope, I think, this is the right place. I hope they think so too. After all, they have cheesecake.