Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I say as he trudges across the waiting room towards his office door.
He stops and looks at me like he wasn’t expecting to see me. Because I’m invisible to him, apparently. He probably forgot he recruited me to sit here all week and do precisely nothing. Now he’s remembered, I’m probably going to get the sack.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you until Thursday,” I say, because he still hasn’t said anything.
“Yes. Well, I’m going to be here all week.”
I can feel my entire body start to perk up. He’s committing. Really committing to his practice. This is great news.
“We won’t have any patients,” he says, and he must see the way my shoulders droop. “If any try and book in, put them in for next week.” Then he heads into his office and closes the door.
I lean forward and literally bang my head on the desk and then just stay there, because I have nothing better to do. I can’t bear just sitting here and not being productive. I’m in an anxiety spiral. I need to be busy and useful and I want to put everything into this job so I can keep it. If my current situation had been designed especially for me, it couldn’t be more tortuous.
I recognize the creak of the doorknob too late.
When I upright myself, I come face to face with Zach, who’s looking at me with a quizzical expression.
“Could you get me a coffee, please?” he asks, and my insides start to melt a little at his lovely manners. I mentally chastise myself—he’s a human being displaying basic manners. The bar I’ve set myself has been far too low for far too long.
I jump to my feet. “Of course. What would you like?” Now I wish I’d memorized the entire Starbucks menu so I’m prepared.
“Just an Americano. With an extra shot.”
“Of course. Starbucks? Or Costa?”
He shrugs. “Whatever. Put it on the credit card.” Then he turns to disappear back inside his office.
“Have you thought about advertising?” I blurt. I have no idea if doctors advertise or if it’s even allowed.
“Advertising what?” He scowls at me.
I take a beat, wondering how to answer. What does he think I mean he should advertise? “Your new practice. Maybe in some specialist pharmacies?” I was clutching at straws and I knew it.
“Just the coffee, please.” He goes back into his office and shuts the door.
I take a deep breath. I need to trust him. This business is his livelihood. His future. It’s only my next year-and-a-little-bit. He needs this to work more than I do. I’m determined to convince myself that him being here and wanting coffee is good news. Great, in fact. He’s taken the week off his NHS job and is coming in every day. If he didn’t want this private practice to work, he’d have gone away somewhere to get some sun. So what if he doesn’t have any patients at the moment? He will do, won’t he? Still, my coffee run is a perfect time to put a call into the recruiter to see if anything else has come up.
I slip on my coat, scarf, and hat and shoot down the stairs, at the same time as I’m putting on my gloves. Getting coffee is pretty much the first thing I’ve been tasked with. I’m going to make it good.
Ribbons of breath appear as soon as I’m on the steps down to Wimpole Street. It’s so cold, I almost need the air warmed before I breathe it in. It’s a shock to the system. The nearest coffee shop is Costa, just on the corner of Wigmore Street. It will take about five minutes to reach it. But I’m going to make it count. I pull out my phone and catch the wool of my gloves between my teeth and pull them off. I’m going to call the recruitment agency to see if Zach has called them or if they have any other jobs coming up that I might be better suited for.
“Hey, Debbie,” I say when she answers. “It’s Ellie. I was just wondering if you’ve heard from Zach at all?”
“I spoke to him about a week ago. He said things hadn’t really got started yet but that he’s pleased to have you in place so when they do, you’ll be ready.”
“I’m ready,” I say.
“You’ve got to be patient. This is a great role for you. You know how tight the market is and with your CV—it’s tricky. This is a great opportunity. You’ve got to hang tight. You haven’t even been there a month yet.”
“I just get the feeling something’s off.”
“He’s just starting out. Things are bound to be slow. I bet you in a month’s time, you’re going to be calling me to complain you’re overworked.”
The idea is like pulling a hot water bottle to my chest, and for at least five seconds, I feel better. But how would she know what’s going to happen in a month’s time? I couldn’t even tell my boyfriend of ten years was sleeping with someone else. Debbie doesn’t have a crystal ball. “But just in case this doesn’t work out, have you got anything else you think I’d be suited to?” I’d rather jump ship now to something else, rather than be pushed in a week when I’ve got nothing to go to.