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Perception is Everything
Oliver
Some stereotypes seem to be built on accuracy. Take the brusque angry New Yorker like the one I just met in the elevator. I’ve heard about people who can take offense at everything. The type of people that would complain if they won the lottery.
Are elevator rules different in New York? I don’t think so because, during the time that I’ve been here staying with my brother Theo, general elevator etiquette has been practiced by most people I run into. All except one.
It isn’t bad enough that she got upset at me for walking into her, which was her fault. She then proceeded to tell me that my profession is harming women all over the world. Granted, she isn’t the first person to accuse me or all plastic surgeons in general of putting too much attention on outward appearances and not enough on a person’s character. But considering the way she acted, I wonder if she’s living proof of that point. She is a lovely-looking woman. If I wasn’t living a life of celibacy at the moment, she’d be someone I’d ask out. She has outward beauty but clearly has no character.
The truth is, I understand and even respect the idea that getting a pair of big tits isn’t going to fix someone’s life. Before I joined the practice in Los Angeles, and as a volunteer while in practice there, I did a lot of other work in plastic surgery. Work that most people would agree is important. But unfortunately, many people think plastic surgery is all about breast enhancement or facelifts, not mastectomy reconstruction, facial reconstruction after a car accident, or cleft palate surgery for kids flown in from around the world.
I suppose the fact that I worked for a celebrity plastic surgeon might prove her point since all my patients were either celebrities or otherwise rich and vain for a few years. I will defend myself by saying I was practicing in Los Angeles, California, home of Hollywood TV and movies. For many of my patients, their looks were their meal ticket, and losing them, meant losing their income potential or work altogether. I could argue that older women, in particular, have difficulty in Hollywood if they don’t maintain their looks. This is more of a reflection of societal preferences. This leads the actresses to find a doctor like me, making a doctor like me important.
Why am I worrying about this at all? I know who I am and what I do. If I have a woman wanting a cosmetic change that she thinks will fix a mental illness, I’ll do the right thing and involve a therapist. Although now that I’m in New York, the woman in the elevator won’t be the one I refer them to. That is assuming I am correct in that she is a therapist. Paige Devereaux called her Dr. Everling. She was talking about her clients having low self-esteem, so I assume she’s involved in some kind of therapy.
The car I ordered to drive me to my appointment pulls up in front of the building in midtown Manhattan. I’ve been making the rounds at clinics throughout the city, looking for work. I’m surprised at how difficult it is becoming. I need to find a job so that I can move out of my brother’s condo now that he and Madeline are in a committed relationship. He looks so fucking happy, and I am so glad for him.
But I wonder if true love is really a thing, especially between two actors. Entertainment history is littered with celebrity couples who aren’t able to make it. Madeline Fox’s parents are proof of that. In truth, many of the men and women I saw in California get surgery as much to appeal to the opposite sex and maintain their status in the entertainment industry. I operated on my share of forty and fifty-year-old newly-divorced women, eager to get back into the dating world. I’m sure they were excited to give a great big F-you to their ex-husbands who had left them for twenty-something-year-olds. I wonder what Dr. Everling would think about plastic surgery motivated by revenge.
I shake the encounter with Dr. Everling out of my head as I enter the building and get in the elevator, waiting for the people who are already on it to get off before I step into the car. Then I make my way up to the floor where my interview will take place.
Dr. Kramer stands as I enter his office. He shakes my hand as he greets me. I put all thoughts of Dr. Everling and the baggage I left in Los Angeles out of my mind so I can focus on the task at hand; starting a new life with a clean slate.
“Thank you for coming in. Dr. Wolfe,” Dr. Kramer says, motioning toward a chair in front of his desk. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I wave my hand to tell him I don’t need anything to drink. But, the truth is, I’m a little concerned my hands might shake because I’m beginning to second-guess my ability to get a job.
“No, thank you. And thank you for seeing me. I’ve studied the clinic’s work and admire everything you do here.” Of course, I’ve said that in every interview because isn’t that what candidates say when they’re on a job interview?
He smiles like he’s heard that line before and sits in his chair. He opens a file that I assume has my resume and other information, including my new New York medical license number. Then he sits back and studies me. “You have a very impressive resume for not being out of medical school for very long.”
“I work hard and network well,” I say, not to brag because it’s true. The statement that it’s not what you know but who you know has the ring of truth, even in plastic surgery. In my case, in California, the fact that my father is a prominent businessman helped me. It also didn’t hurt that my influential father would brag about me. A part of me wants to feel good about that, except I know it isn’t sincere. His pride is only because I had done well in school, excelled in sports, and gotten a medical degree. As long as I was the Golden Child, I was loved.
I know this because I watched as he and my mother treated Theo like a stray dog they had to take care of, but they would’ve been happy to send him back to the pound. Even now, my brother Theo is the biggest star in the universe and runs his own production company. Yet, they still can’t acknowledge his achievements. So, I don’t think my parents are really proud of me in the way other parents might be, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use their praise or connections to further my career.
“I like that you’ve had a good balance of work. But, as you know, for the most part, we deal with high-end clients who want to look more like a supermodel, or younger, or whatever the definition of beauty of the day is.”
Inwardly I wince as he verifies Dr. Everling’s assessment of plastic surgery.
“We give doctors time off to work in free clinics; generally those related to children. As you know, it looks good, not just for the clinic. Still, plastic surgery has a negative connotation, especially since that show a couple years ago. What is it called,Nip/Tuck?”
I nod as I know of the show, but I never watched it. “I’ve done work with children in clinics. Along with the positive optics, it is rewarding work.” That sounds like a suck-up thing to say, but it’s true.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the folder. Something in the subtle change of his demeanor has my gut saying, “Uh-oh.”
“The thing is, Dr. Wolfe, you have a bit of a reputation, and I’m not sure that’s something we can afford here.”
My stomach sinks. I won’t deny that I live the life of a well-off, highly-educated single man, but it doesn’t seem like that should stop me from getting hired.
“Sir, I’m a single man. I date.” I cross my fingers that he doesn’t know anything more about me and my life in Los Angeles.
“Well, yes, and you’re a handsome young man, so I don’t begrudge you sowing your oats a little. But as you know, discretion is part of the game. Our clients want us to make them look like the perfect specimens, but they want the world to believe that their God-given genes have made them that way, not our injections or scalpels.”
I nod my understanding as I wait for him to reveal the real problem while hoping he doesn’t know the full extent of my potential image problem.
“We can’t have doctors with notoriety or scandal bringing attention to our clinic and therefore to those who come and leave it, right?”
