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The sweet scent of pipe tobacco invades your nostrils as you walk into the room. Standing there at the entrance you glance around you to see an array of thick books lining the mahogany bookshelves. For some reason you feel very relaxed in the room, it could be the warm sunlight that's filtering in through the window behind the desk, or the colorful portraits hanging on the wall. All of a sudden the warm feeling vanishes as you realize where you really are: you're at your number one choice for medical school, your dream school and behind the desk in the chair with it's back facing toward you is your interviewer. The swivel chair slowly turns around and there you are confronted with the man who you will be spending the next fifteen minutes with (or at least you hope it will last that long). He's an elderly man, you assume early to mid sixties. His face is all shriveled like that of a raisin, probably from years of heavy smoking. He has on thick glasses much like that evil b!tch of a teacher you had for Biology class, actually, had she a bit more facial hair they could've passed off for twins you think to yourself. He sits there staring at you, you begin to panic, thousands of thoughts begin to fly through your head, "Am I dressed appropriately? Why is he looking at me so strangely, is there a booger hanging out of my nose? Should I wait for him to talk or should I?" After 20 seconds of silence (and staring at you in a creepy way), "Sit" he says in a raspy voice, and motions toward the wooden chair seated in front of his desk. You walk over to the chair and sit down. "This is quite an office..." you begin to say but he quickly cuts you off with a hand gesture to indicate silence. He reaches over and pulls out a pile of papers from his desk. "Good he's pulling out my files" you think to yourself. "Have you ever heard of the Student Doctor Network forums?" He asks. "Oh yes, actually..." he cuts you off again, "Are you an active-posting member?" he asks. You figure it best that you give him a straight answer so just reply with a "Yes" instead of trying to continue the conversation. He drops the pile of papers onto the desk and they make a slight thud. "What I have here..." he points to the papers, "...are some unusual posts from that silly forum, one in particular that catches my attention is this one" he tosses a paper to you and you read the title "Would you eat a poop hot dog to gain admission to your first choice school?" How could you forget this one!? You try and hold back a grin but it's no use, as you begin reading the posts "...I'm talkin' foot long..." when you see out of the corner of the eye your interviewer reaching back into the desk drawer and pulling something out. "Good god", you think to yourself, "what smells like ****?" You glance up and to your horror, there lying on the middle of his desk on top of a bunch of other papers is a white plate. On top of the plate are what looks like corndogs, but you know what he's getting at, and you sure as hell know what those are. "Now by looking at the grin on your face there a few seconds ago I think you know what this is about, and let me start out by telling you this is no joke". You begin to feel dizzy. "Medical schools around the country decided a few days ago that along with good grades and mcat scores, which you most certainly do have, the applicant must prove that they are "enthusiastic" about getting into medical school, therefore we have decided to come up with little "tests" to see how committed you really are." You gulp, your head begins to pound, and you can feel your hear beating like mad. "So my friend, you have two choices: a) eat the "poop hot dog" like your fellow SDN'ers call it, or b) walk out, and never set foot in anything medical related EVER, I will notify all committees that you failed to pass the "test" and will make sure that no one ever admits you, not even the Carribean, it's entirely up to you." You glance down at the three poop hot dogs on the plate, the stench growing more intense with each breath you take, what do I do, what do I do, WHAT DO I DO!?!?!?!?!, the voice keeps screaming to you inside your head. What did you do?
