Monday, September 28, 2020

Prestige

My regular readers know that I'm not a member of any organizations, nor do I have a particularly high opinion of them.

It was Groucho Marx who said "I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member" and I'll agree with that.

So recently, my reader SMOD (who belongs to the American Academy of Neurology) showed me this survey they sent him:

 


 

To comment on a few:

"Ability to network with other neurology professionals."

This is DEFINITELY not an enticement. If I really wanted to do this I could go to drug-company sponsored dinners or hospital meetings. There's a reason I don't: neurologists are, in general, social freaks. You could write a textbook about all the personality pathology that occurs in this field. We fight over reflex hammers, FFS. You think I want to hang out with other members of this tribe? There's a reason I'm in solo practice.


"Free or reduced rates on AAN products, services, or conferences."

The last time I went to a conference was when my job paid for it, which was 1998. If I'm going to blow a mortgage payment (or two) on plane tickets and hotel rooms, I'd rather have it be something I can do for fun with my family, and not to drag my ass to a darkened conference room to hear about possible breakthroughs using chupacabra urine-derived proteins for the treatment of MS. In 1998 I went to a bunch of those sessions, many standing room only, and I don't think any of the research I heard actually bore fruit in the long run. I'll take a beach chair and umbrella drink, thanks.

As far as AAN products go... at my last meeting (admittedly, this was a long time ago, so maybe you don't do this now) there was a booth selling AAN-themed T-shirts, baseball caps, coffee mugs, and reflex hammers. I'll pass, even with a discount.


"Distinction, prestige, and/or added credibility of being an AAN member."

This is, far and away, my favorite item that you've asked people to rate. I'd be checking the box under "was not aware of." I mean, to me this is like saying you belong to the Gilligan's Island Fan Club for the effect it has on the general public. People either aren't aware there was such a thing or they pity you for being so proud that you belong to it. There are a lot of ways to earn respect, like being a good doctor, citizen, or parent. Giving back to your community. Helping the less fortunate. But hanging a sign in your office that says you're an AAN member is only going to matter to drug reps, who will use the info to cull favor for you to prescribe their latest and greatest.

One could also point out that being an AAN member isn't something that's visibly obvious, like some sort of aura, that makes people take notice so you get a better table or they clear a path as you come through. Perhaps that's why you might purchase an AAN T-shirt or baseball cap, but not sure that's going to help. Out in public people could take it to mean anything, like Anal Aficionados of Nebraska.

"Distinction, prestige, and/or added credibility" in medicine, as in life, are earned by actions, not by paying a $495 annual fee. If you think otherwise, then you probably wouldn't want me as a member, either.

- Thank you, SMOD!

13 comments:

fiberman said...

"neurologists are, in general, social freaks"

Didn't you say, some years ago, that the wall of physician photos in a neurology department always looks like the character lineup from a bad sitcom?

Anonymous said...

They have a lot of audacity thinking someone wants to buy their cheap promotional bling. Most organizations give it away for free. I bet they charge a pretty penny to be a member of their tribe.

SMOD said...

The real prestige belongs to those members of AAN who qualify to be “Fellows of the AAN”. They get to put FAAN in their signature, as in “Ibee Grumpy, M.D., FAAN”. The more letters you have, the more impressive you must be. To get the FAAN honor, you have to do something like attend at least 4 annual meetings and have some other FAAN write a letter of recommendation. I know a few neurologists who always sign with that pseudo-distinguished accreditation and they’re mostly people whose academic careers stalled mid-track.

A. Marie said...

Well, a lot of us would write Dr. G a FAAN letter. But I'm not so sure about his colleagues (off the wall and otherwise).

Slowly Silvering said...

Now I want to move to Nebraska...

Anonymous said...

I really, really respect you and your opinion, however, as an RN with several years in ICU and PACU, the most socially retarded specialties are Nephrology and Ophthalmic Surgery. I've never met a more eccentric group of weirdos (awkward weirdos. Not interesting weirdos.) than those two. The neurologists we worked with in the Neuro ICU were usually pretty cool, the kind you could easily chat with at a cocktail party or by the soiled linen chute.

Anonymous said...

Doc, you win the sweepstakes with the chupacabra pee. Best this old GI guy could do was armadillos- though the science wasn't any less fictional.

another RN said...

I'm another RN chiming in. Neurologists know how to have a conversation. We were talking about goofy things they pay medical students to do, like sticking their arm in a chamber full of mosquitoes to see how they do something or other. I said what kind of shmuck does that, even for money. He had the grace to blush.

Anonymous said...

Ahhh...Conversations at the soiled linen chute. The hospital equivalent to the office water cooler.

Anonymous said...

As a neuropsychiatrist, I have sometimes wondered if the draw to work among neurologists is that it’s the one place where I get to come off as socially adept...

jono said...

I think they spelled "fan" wrong.

Me said...

I'm not a professional in the medical field but I understand exactly how you feel.
I have zero use for organized groups, having begun my distaste as a kid in the Brownies.

Mary said...

PREACH DR. G!!!!!

 
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