Growing into the Job, Post 517: Balloons? Cookies? A Note?

Balloons? Cookies? A Note?

What the hell is this…

My day had started normally enough - well, as normal as can be expected for a 4’2” (yeah…she measured me again) dude waking up in an apartment owned by his ex-wife and in the arms of an Amazon who is not only his girlfriend but who may also be changing into some sort of mutant superhuman. I knew what the day would entail - me seeing my patients and trying to ignore the fact that my life had somehow become like something out of either a soul-rending horror movie or a crappy piece of online pervy fiction. And, yeah, I had my appointment at the men’s endocrinology clinic in the city later today to investigate my, uh, condition. Melissa had said she’d come with me, but still the thought of it made my head sorta hurt - I think I was just nervous.  Meanwhile, Melissa would be spending today somehow managing this new monstrosity of a medical facility. I think she also had a meeting this morning back in the Behavioral department with that strange-ass, semi-scary counselor - Ani Chou - to discuss my “Regression Therapy”. Fantastic. 

I didn’t think much of it at first. Having come out of my apartment, down my private little stairway, through Melissa’s office and into the clinic, I was too preoccupied with the familiar knot of stress that had settled in my stomach to pay much attention to the hustle and bustle. There seemed to be a bit more staff in today - new towering, pretty girls in scrubs, new MAs in training it seemed - and at one point I had to thread my way through a little cluster of them chatting and laughing. I didn’t recognize a face but I gave a quick, hopefully-not-too-awkward wave to the group as I passed. They were giggling about something, and I was basically just hoping to slip by unnoticed.

“Hey there, handsome, you are looking fine today!” came a voice from the group.

I almost tripped over my own feet. Wait, what?

Before I could process that, another one chimed in, her voice as bright and chirpy as a songbird on amphetamines. “Ooooooo, cutie, you’re so cute!”

“Yeah, but doctor - you should smile more.”

“Yeah, where’s that cute smile of yours?”

What? Was this some kind of prank? I didn’t even know these girls! And since when did I, uh, have a ‘cute smile’..? Anyway, I didn’t dare look back to see if they were talking to me - or if they were even being serious. Instead, I just mumbled something and hurried down the hall, ears burning.

Was this a new thing now? Catcalling the old male doctor that somehow still works here? Was I turning into some kind of clinic mascot?

As I made my way to my office - well, the office that used to be mine, a trip made more out of habit than anything else, I couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling crawling up my spine. Just yesterday, I’d found it locked, my nameplate gone. Melissa had explained it later - something about “optimizing shared workspace efficiency”, putting in a “hot desk”.

Translation: It’s not your office anymore.

And now, though, as I reached the door, I saw it was open - and the new sign was already there, gleaming in the fluorescent light: "Collaborative Workspace - Clinical Operations" in crisp, modern lettering. Just seeing it made my stomach drop a little. I stood there for a moment, telling myself it wasn’t that big of a deal - just an office. But stepping inside, I couldn’t help feeling like I was intruding on someone else’s territory.

Gone were the familiar shelves crammed with my old textbooks, the leather desk chair that had molded to my shape after years of use, and my cluttered desk that always felt like organized chaos. Instead, the room had been transformed into a sleek, hyper-organized hub.

There were three workstations spaced out around the room, each with a spotless desk, ergonomic chair, and brand-new monitors, all arranged with military precision. The walls, once covered in framed diplomas (wait…what happened to my diplomas?) and quirky medical posters, were now a stark, soothing gray, approaching white, with only a single motivational print about teamwork hanging near the door. Natural light poured in from the window, bouncing off the polished floors, making the room feel more like a tech startup’s small conference space than a doctor’s office.

I swallowed the weird lump in my throat. It wasn’t just the change in decor - it was the sudden sense that this wasn’t my space anymore, that I was now just one more cog in the machine. Trying to shake it off, I stepped further inside, but stopped short.

What the hell is this…

A plate of cookies sat on the nearest workstation. Anchored to the plate were six bright green balloons, bobbing lightly with the draft of the pleasant-smelling HVAC through the room. I blinked, confused. Next to the cookies was my old “World’s Best Boss” mug, the one that the staff had given me years ago as a joke when we were still a small, local practice.

A notepad, also next to the plate, had a handwritten note. I stepped up to the desk and picked it up.

‘Good morning! Excited for our day together! But naughty boy you missed our EHR date last night! Lmk what time today you want to sit down together. I’m a good teacher haha! -Ms Montgomery’

I didn’t have to sniff the air to know that the light, heady perfume that emanated from the paper was that of Jewel, our new PA-C. My face grew warm, and I could almost feel her presence just from the lingering scent. My brain was having trouble processing this whole tableau - the balloons, the cookies, the overly chipper note. She was just being friendly, right? Maybe overly friendly, but well-meaning?

I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing myself to breathe out slowly. Okay. If this was just Jewel being nice, a PA supporting a physician, there was nothing strange about that. Maybe this was her way of trying to make a good impression - cookies, balloons, a little bit of innocent teasing. Some people were just like that, eager to build camaraderie, especially when starting a new position. I shouldn’t be overthinking it.

But still, something about the whole setup made my brain itch. Like that feeling you get when someone’s watching you from across a crowded room, or though a half-open shade. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But maybe it was just her way of being proactive - integrating herself into the team, trying to establish some rapport with me.

I sighed and sank into the ergonomic chair at the desk, the leather cold against my back. It was too big for me of course, and my feet dangled until I adjusted its height. Glancing aside the cookies, I noticed that my coffee mug had coffee in it: actual coffee. I hadn’t had a real cup of coffee in ages, with the way my stomach’s been. Had Jewel poured it for me? I didn’t dare try it, of course (though it actually smelled really good, so enticing) but I couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of flattery - she’d been nice to make it for me - and unease. The cookies, too, looked good, homemade even. I picked one up, studying the way the chocolate chips still looked slightly melty, and then, without really thinking about it, I pulled the keyboard of the desktop workstation to me and typed her name into the search bar.

‘Jewel Montgomery’ - an unusual enough name, I figured it’d find her. 

As the results loaded, I found myself remembering meeting her yesterday. Even just thinking about it made my pulse quicken. She was gorgeous, taller than me by a good two feet, with an hourglass build that was rivaled by few other women I’d ever met. Her frame was both lithe, solid, and incredibly buxom. Her arms and legs had a sleek, toned definition, and her waist tapered in sharply before curving out into strong, well-formed hips. Her chest? Yeah, definitely hard to forget. Full, firm, and overly proportionate to the rest of her physique. She’d also carried herself like someone who knew exactly how strong, shapely and attractive she was and didn’t mind showing it.

Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I found some kind of Instagram page full of workout videos and busty selfies - in fact I prepared myself for it. Girls built like her generally had an online presence to attract attention, right? But when the search results came up, I just stared, confused.

Nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was a generic LinkedIn account with her name, a simple profile picture. The profile listed her as a Physician Assistant at Far Horizons, originally from South Africa. That was it. No Instagram, no Facebook, no GirlToob, nothing.

I frowned and dug a little deeper. I checked the schools listed on her LinkedIn - yes, she had been a registered student and graduated from both. But again, almost no digital footprint from her time there. No old class photos, no social media posts from PA school, no tags from boozy parties or beach vacations. Also, curiously, a blank space of time between graduating from her training (years ago) and her current position here. I’d seen enough resumes for that to be-

Weird.

My phone buzzed softly - Melissa checking on me - and I realized I’d been absently turning the cookie over in my hand. Curiosity won out, and I took a small bite, half expecting it to be way too much for my stomach to handle, given how unpredictable my appetite had become.

But it was… surprisingly good. Soft, a little gooey in the middle, with just the right amount of sweetness. My stomach didn’t cramp up, it didn’t taste like cardboard, and before I knew it, I’d polished off the whole cookie. I looked down at my empty fingers, a smear of chocolate on one of them, a little stunned. Did I really just eat that whole thing without feeling like I was going to keel over?

Almost on autopilot, I reached for another cookie, trying to ignore the little jolt of satisfaction I felt at actually enjoying something that resembled normal food for once. Even more boldly, I grabbed my coffee mug (ignoring/trying to ignore how big it felt in my hand) and took a swig. Jewel had made this for me? Maybe a bit too much milk, but still…

Yum!

Her LinkedIn profile still onscreen, my eyes locked in on her profile picture. Her smile, her dimples, the sparkle in her eyes. She was…wow. Really lovely. Between my legs my-

Oh wait…

A pop-up on the screen’s top corner, a news alert…

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