August 29, 2008 at 5:04 pm (Applying to med school)
As we enter the month of September, premeds from all across the country are nervously awaiting the outcome of their applications to medical school. This special brand of obsessive-compulsive disorder, bred by the ridiculous admissions standards set forth by medical colleges, forces many premeds to develop a whiny, helpless personality that quickly annoys everyone around them. I was wondering what would happen if my personal hero, Mr. T, were to become the dean of admissions at my university. I’m sure that the telephone calls would go something like this:
Caller #1: Hi, I understand that AMCAS limits us to 5300 characters for our personal statement. Do we really have to keep it at 5300? I feel that I’ve done so much in high school and college that I really need more space to discuss all of my life’s achievements.
Mr. T: Quit your jibber jabber, fool! You haven’t accomplished anything. You’re 21-years-old and the only thing you’ve ever done that’s significant is to make out with a drunk girl at a party. Now put down the telephone and go do something meaningful with your life.
Caller #2: I’m really worried about the way your school delivers lectures. I understand that you refuse to allow videotaping to encourage students to attend class. I’m really afraid that I won’t get to see all the lessons if that’s the case. What if I’m sick?
Mr. T: Fool, the only lecture that you’re about to receive is a lesson in pain. Get yourself a textbook and start reading if you think that you’re going to miss class.
Caller #3: Has the waitlist started to move? What’s my position on the waitlist?
Mr. T: I’m going to refer you to my assistant dean, Pain. We’ve just started the application cycle. I haven’t even accepted anyone this early. If I’m interested in taking you off the waitlist, you’ll be the first person I call.
Caller #4: Not all of my rec letters have come in yet. What should I say to the letter writers to get them moving? I’m really afraid that since I only have three letters so far, your school won’t consider me.
Mr. T: What you need to tell them is, “You better get in front of the keyboard, fool! If you don’t get these letters out, I’m coming to get you, sucker.”
Now that’s a medical school worth attending.