More On Work

I’ve written about “work” before.  By work, I meant physical work, hard labor.  I’ve also written that as a desk jockey, I’ve never really had to do that kind of work, certainly not full time, and I have no idea what the mindset is.  As you’re mowing or hammering or lifting or grating do you turn off your brain and go into a twilight zone kind of headspace?  Or do you stay in the moment, focus on the job at hand as best you can and try to enjoy it.  I would imagine it’s a bit of both.

But I find myself thinking of other kinds of work of late.  A dean’s list of recent medical appointments has me wondering what it’s like to be a dentist peering into wide open mouths all day long, staring at teeth.  After the five hundredth time, is drilling a tooth any more interesting than drilling a pipe fitting? 

What’s it like to be an orthopedist studying MRIs and x-rays on a monitor for hours on end?  Is performing an operation still intriguing when you’ve been doing it repeatedly for years?   (I suppose one could ask the same thing of the butcher in the local grocery meat department.)  

What’s it like to be a dermatologist constantly looking at blemishes, rashes, and pre-cancerous sores.  Does one start to feel like an arborist studying plants and flowers? 

What’s it like to be a general practitioner constantly reviewing lab results.   Do the appointments and patients start to crossfade into one another so that the day becomes one long patient/appointment? Or is each appointment, each patient, singular unto itself, a person that you create a connection with, a fellow human being needing your expertise, help and knowledge.   

Perhaps, like anything else, there are good days and there are bad days in these professions; days when the work you do and the people you interact with are meaningful and days when they are not.  (Of course, it’s a little easier to trudge on when you’re still getting well reimbursed for those less than meaningful days.)

As a writer I can’t say there’s ever been what felt like a sense of repetition to what I do.  Does dialogue have cavities in need of repair?  Do storylines have broken joints?  If so, each “cavity and broken joint” has always been pretty much unique, the stories and characters constantly changing and evolving.  You never know what’s going to rear up out of nowhere to suddenly surprise you. 

The downside to it is that unless it’s imaginary, there is no real human connection when you’re constantly working by yourself.  My favorite time in the theatre was often the time spent with a director and actors, rehearsing for the opening of a play.  It turned a solo ride into a collaboration.  And in the movie biz, pre-Zoom, the sit downs and phone calls and meals with producers and execs who had their own ideas to share on a project was constant.  Still, writing has always been “working” on my own.

Am I complaining?  Not even a little bit.  WORK!   An activity involving mental or physical effort done to achieve a purpose or result.  Is it supposed to be constant fun?  Always meaningful?  If it were either of those things all the time, would you even call it work?  Probably not.

As an actor on a movie set once said, “they pay me to wait, the acting I do for free.”