The Sidewalk Incident

1. The Cursing Incident

"You self-centred, narcissistic BITCH!"

Sandra or Sarah yells at me from across my office desk.

"Are you done?" I huff, bored out of my mind by this immature display of drama. Self-centred and narcissist are basically the same thing, right?

"I can't believe I wanted to be mentored by you!" She bellows this time, standing up and crunching the test she failed into a fist, angry tears spilling down her cheeks.

My eyes roll. "Well, you knew what you were signing up for. If you can't prepare and pass a simple test with 100% before a surgery, you can't scrub in. Simple as that. I spelt out every expectation I had of my surgical residents and all my interns on day one. And you signed that you understood what was required from you. If this is too much, you're welcome to quit."

"What? And give you the satisfaction? You probably get a thrill from tormenting us, don't you?" She bangs her fist on the glass desk and I raise an eyebrow, challenging her to break it as it vibrates dangerously.

"Yes, I prey on the souls of young Meredith Grey Wannabes. And I spend the little free time I have plotting to take over the world." There's a snort in the background, which I pay no mind to.

"I curse you!" Sandra/Sarah starts to half cry and half yell. The snorter snorts again and I struggle to keep my composure. "Yeah, you heard me, I curse you. I hope you die alone, you bitch."

"Alright, Serena," the snorter's voice interrupts in his smooth English accent. "I think that's enough."

"You can't possibly be siding with.. with... with her?!" (Newly discovered) Serena shudders as though I'm Satan's spawn. "It's your surgery and we all know you hate each other."

"But you are part of Dr. Owen's team." He corrects the 'her' jest and doesn't deny nor confirm our shared hatred. "Dr. Owen has her protocol. You are her resident. You failed her test. You can't scrub in." James says firmly but then gives her a somewhat encouraging smile. "Nail the next test, yeah?"

Urgh he's an insufferable Nice Guy even when he's trying to be firm. And somehow, Serena  simmers down and gives him puppy dog eyes as she dabs the bottom of her eyelids using the handkerchief he handed her.

Who still carries handkerchiefs around in this day and age? James Li that's who. My arch nemesis. He gets to be Mr. Nice Guy while I, an equally, if not more, talented surgeon, am referred to as the Devil in Scrubs. I mean it is flattering that they think of me as highly as the Miranda Priestly's of this world, but either way, I've had to evolve if I want to leave my mark in the medical world.

_________________

"Wow, that must be a record," James smirks while we scrub in for his surgery, our hands doing a wash routine we could perform in our sleep.

"What is?" I know what's coming.

"It's only 7am and you've already made someone cry." James chuckles.

"I suppose it's going to be a great day, then." I chirp excitedly.

"My favourite part was when she cursed you."

"Urgh. She could have wished for something worse to be honest."

"Like what?" He challenges and I shrug.

"I don't know. Like being subject zero of the next pandemic, responsible for turning mankind into flesh-eating zombies!"

"I feel like you'll be awfully specific on whose brain you'll devour." He notes.

"True." The nurses place our gloves and isolation gowns on. I sometimes feel like this is my Met Gala and I'm getting dressed for the red carpet. I love surgery way too much. "Anyway, it was a wasted curse. We essentially all die alone anyway."