Friends With Benefits

1

The locker room buzzed with the chatter of residents gearing up for the day's surgeries. Laughter and casual conversations filled the space as they shared stories from their rotations and exchanged tips for the day ahead. Among them was Ben Warren, still adjusting to his new role and trying to shake off the remnants of his previous career. His transition from anesthesiology to surgery was a big shift, and as he dressed, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

The door swung open, and in walked Dr. Miranda Bailey. Clad in her crisp white coat, her posture straight, her expression set in a blend of authority and readiness. The residents knew her reputation well—this was a woman who expected excellence and had little patience for mediocrity.

She wasted no time. "Alright, listen up" Her voice cut through the quiet like a knife. "I'm Dr. Bailey,but you all should know that, and today you all are at my mercy. You all will be assigned residents but currently for some reason beyond me, it was not done yet. So today I am stuck with some of you. I don't care what you've heard or what you think you know. You are wrong."

She paused, letting the gravity of her presence settle. The residents exchanged nervous glances.

"I have five rules, memorize them," she began "Rule number don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change, trauma protocol...nurses will page you, you will answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two."

"Your first shift starts now and lasts 48 hours. You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain," she continued. "You run labs, write orders, work every second until you drop and don't complain. On-call rooms, attendings hog them, sleep when you can where you can, which brings me to rule number three if I'm sleeping, don't wake me unless your patient is actually dying."

"Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, then not only would you have killed someone, you would have woke me for no good reason, we clear?"

The room was quiet as Miranda delivered her rules with her characteristic intensity. She turned her gaze to Ben, who had been trying to blend into the background, still adjusting to his new environment. His age, a bit more advanced than most residents, set him apart, and Miranda's sharp eyes didn't miss a detail.

"You," she said, directing her attention to Ben, "are you sure you're in the right place? Aren't you a bit... mature for a surgical resident?"

Ben stiffened slightly, the question catching him off guard. He was used to the idea that his transition from anesthesiology to surgery might be seen as unconventional, but Miranda's directness felt like a challenge.

"Actually, Dr. Bailey," Ben replied, trying to keep his voice steady, "I'm here because I've decided to pursue surgery. I know it might seem unusual, but I'm committed to making the most of this opportunity."

"I'm not doubting your commitment. I just want to be clear: if you're here to coast through this and relive your glory days, you're in the wrong place. Surgery is demanding, and we don't have time for anyone who's not fully invested."

"I understand," Ben said, meeting her gaze with determination. "And if I may. You said you had five rules. That was only four."

"Rule number five, when I move, you move," she responded as she looked at her pager. She briefly looked the sheet with their names on it before calling Ben and two other interns. There was a brief moment of hesitation.

"Come on, let's go," Miranda instructed, her pace brisk as she headed out of the locker room and towards the nearest elevator. They followed her closely, trying to keep up with her determined stride.

They made their way to the pediatric wing of the hospital. Ben's face betrayed his discomfort—he was clearly not thrilled about being on the peds floor.