Thursday, January 24, 2008

Meeting Under The Table


ClinkShrink is working on a post while I type, so if mine goes on top, please check out hers, too. It's something to do with the 4H Club, she must be making jam again.

So everyday now, I sit with patients and think "I wish I could blog about this." This confidentiality thing, from a blogging shrink's point of view: it's so unfair. Okay, if you told me a great story today, it's not going up on Shrink Rap. My friends and colleagues, however, don't have Hippocrates-protected confidentiality, so I'll blog about them instead.

Have you been to a big meeting lately, say 10 or 12 people around a conference table? I've been to a bunch, and ya gotta love technology. There's someone who chairs any given meeting, and being the overly compulsive crew that psychiatrists are, there's a meeting before the meeting to set the agenda, and the meet at the meeting with the typed-and-distributed hard copy script. But then, under the table, there's the rest of the meetings with their own agendas going on by way of blackberry and cell phone text messages. So perhaps the topic on is The Kelly Case and Forced Medication legislation, or changes to the state's medication formulary, or yet another form that needs to be signed or... you name the topic. My cell phone pings. Roy texts from across the room: "wimp." My cell phone pings again: commentary on what someone said (.... and, please, if you're getting text messages about all the things I say, I don't want to hear it). Camel is concerned that what she said might be taken out of context. Only no one noticed what she said because everyone present is dealing with their own Under The Table agendas, including the person chairing the meeting who's getting pinged about how he's spending too much or too little time on any given topic. I get bored and text my kid at home to ask about the latest with American Idol, or Gossip Girl or whatever the show of the moment is. Other kid pings to ask what's for dinner. ClinkShrink pings with a photo of a pigeon or a mushroom or something she sees on a walk.

Just don't ask what really happened, I have no clue.