I Am a Rock Star (but strangely grounded)

I got a little distracted by the events upon my return to the LC, which is why I blogged about my newly found phobia of disgusting attic spaces instead of the originally intended topic. Now that I sit here in (thankfully) the luxury that is air conditioning, I will bore you with just that.

The hospital system I will be employed with in just 3 short weeks blesses every new physician with a marketing campaign to help promote business during the start-up phase. I should not complain about this as it is free advertisement and does tend to attract new patients. (I reserve the right not to comment on the quality or type of patient. I would never make such generalizations. :) ) Anyway, as part of this, the hospital also not only takes a staff photo but goes all out with a photo shoot. Yes, I am serious. There's no catch-the-doctor-in-the-lounge-and-snap-a-polaroid or just-use-the-badge-picture for my hospital. I was instructed to show up at my soon-to-be-office wearing black pants and a non-white shirt without make-up. (What am I, on a go-see like in ANTM? Don't answer that.) Why? Because they hired a make-up artist just for me. I kid you not. Apparently they extend this same mandate (er, offer) to their male physicians as well, which is something I don't really want to explore. Supposedly it makes you look better in the camera lighting.

So I show up (sans make-up) and my haggardly self is immediately ushered into the "make-up room" (exam room #1) by no less than four member of the marketing team. (Is it really necessary that all of them are there?) While I was getting spackled (sitting in one of those honest-to-goodness director's chairs), I listened (simulatenously) to the make-up artist rattle on about a mutual acquaintance and the development of her own make-up line as well as an assistant-something-or-other of marketing go over the agenda for the day and tell me all about when she got her make-up done for her wedding. (Huh? relevance?) At this point it was hard not to just start laughing.....like I was about to host the flippin' morning news. The goal was to get numerous pictures of me (head shots, full length...oddly, no one ever answered my question about photo shop editing), pictures of me interacting with "patients" (mostly the marketing staff's children), etc., etc. May I just say the words "extensive ad campaign" are a little frightening.

After the 30 minute briefing/beautification, I was allowed to look at my made-up face and put on mascara myself.....I had to walk down the hallway where numerous other people as well as the photographer stared at me. I would like to say it was my arresting beauty, but by the time I reached the bathroom I was afraid I looked like either the Bride of Frankenstein or Tammy Faye Baker. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but was definitely very different than everyday wear. I was assured I looked "great," and it would be perfect for the camera. I tried not to get upset (for fear of cracking my facade) and we proceeded.

What followed was almost 4 mind-numbing hours of posing, smiling, wrestling and arranging my too-big lab jacket so my monogrammed name would strategically be visible. The pictures were of myself, my soon-to-be-staff, three different children, two fake patients, and an apple that in some bizarre way is supposed to be integrated into the ad campaign. All to get the "perfect shot" of me--the face of trust: a competent, caring physician who happens to really like eyeliner. The photographer was okay, and thought I had "dazzling eyes." (Snort.) He felt some level of bonding between us after about 3 hours that I was not privy to, and started calling me by my first name and telling me he could tell when I wasn't giving him my "real smile." I told him it was because moving all that make-up so many times was exhausting, but he seem unconvinced. He kept saying things like, "the camera really likes you," and "most doctors don't do this as well as you." What can I say? This, truth be told, wasn't my first rodeo. I did have an extensive portfolio as a teenager that included a grand total of 2 print ads - one for a 1 hour photo place and one for a hair salon. Ooohhh.


The entire time I kept wondering two things: (1) how much money it cost to put all this together (instead of using it for patients) and (2) how I was supposed to walk into the Chamber of Commerce meeting (that I was supposed to attend) with the pageant queen make-up. As luck would have it, since the shoot ran over, I missed the lunch. No one ever really answered the cost question.

I saw a few of the proofs the next day. I looked like myself, with a lot of make-up. Go figure. And for the record, it took 2 days to feel like I totally scrubbed all that stuff off.