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On a weekend evening many years ago, my wife and I were in the kitchen making dinner. Wine had been poured. Music was playing. Fleetwood Mac or Neil Young if I had to guess. It was around 7 p.m.
And then I got a text from my senior resident.
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And then I got a text from my senior resident.
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I picked up my BlackBerry (that’s how old this story is) and read the message. It was only five words long, free of punctuation and unambiguous:
“Where you at hot stuff”
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“Where you at hot stuff”
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I stared at my phone and took a sip from my glass. The evening had just gotten more interesting. But now I had questions.
Was this message actually intended for me? Of course not. (Well, probably not. Over the years I’d become wary of premature diagnostic closure.)
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Was this message actually intended for me? Of course not. (Well, probably not. Over the years I’d become wary of premature diagnostic closure.)
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But there were other, more serious questions.
Where WAS Hot Stuff? Was he or she on the way to meet Senior Resident? Or were they searching for each other in some crowded location? What were his or her views on punctuation generally? Verbs?
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Where WAS Hot Stuff? Was he or she on the way to meet Senior Resident? Or were they searching for each other in some crowded location? What were his or her views on punctuation generally? Verbs?
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“Take a look at this,” I said to my wife, handing her the phone.
She read the message and laughed. “That was not meant for you,” she deadpanned.
“You don’t say.”
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She read the message and laughed. “That was not meant for you,” she deadpanned.
“You don’t say.”
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I pondered what to do next. More specifically, I pondered how to reply.
“Home. Where you at?” was one possibility.
“Just at the office filling out evaluations” was another.
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“Home. Where you at?” was one possibility.
“Just at the office filling out evaluations” was another.
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But I was mindful of Senior Resident’s predicament—the sudden horror of realization, the pang of regret, even the possibility of intestinal distress that might alter the course of the evening with Hot Stuff—and knew I had to be kind.
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“Please ignore, very embarrassing.” The next message arrived before I could reply. I noted the punctuation.
“It happens, don’t worry about it. We didn’t have this conversation,” I replied.
And that was that.
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“It happens, don’t worry about it. We didn’t have this conversation,” I replied.
And that was that.
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Monday morning was awkward only briefly, just for the first few seconds of eye contact. Senior Resident’s rotation was nearing its end, and nothing more was ever said.
Except that’s not quite true.
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Except that’s not quite true.
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Periodically since, I’ve sent my wife a message or she’s sent one to me, generally when we’re wondering when the other will be home.
“Where you at”
Just three words usually. Sometimes we mistakenly include punctuation.
And every time, the recipient remembers and smiles.
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“Where you at”
Just three words usually. Sometimes we mistakenly include punctuation.
And every time, the recipient remembers and smiles.
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So thank you, anonymous Senior Resident, for the perfect errant message. Your momentary discomfort has gifted us hundreds of warm, silly moments over the years.
Not sure if you’re still with Hot Stuff, but I hope you’re enjoying your career in medicine. Wherever you at.
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Not sure if you’re still with Hot Stuff, but I hope you’re enjoying your career in medicine. Wherever you at.
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