A few months ago a couple of colleagues and I were enjoying dinner at an upscale restaurant. Our server Amy, a very pleasant, hard-working young woman, tended our table without flaw. During dinner, the three of us learned how goal-oriented she was, based on our casual conversation. The banter about her job and ours carried on throughout the meal. My colleagues were independent consultants who work within several different verticals, including healthcare.
As the meal drew to a close, one of my colleagues asked Amy, “Do you know what a pathologist does?” The blank look on her face spoke volumes as she tried to think of an answer. “No,” she replied, “why, are you a pathologist?” My colleague responded that he was not, but that I was.
The day was long and the evening longer as Amy asked me, “What does a pathologist do?” I responded that we are responsible for patient’s laboratory tests. This drew a second blank stare. “Have you ever had your blood drawn or a pap smear?” I asked. Amy responded that she had.
“In fact,” she replied, “I had a large mole removed from my thigh. My doctor thought it was a melanoma.” Then it was as if a light bulb went off. Amy went on to share that her doctor told her a pathologist had reviewed her case, and then she exclaimed, “A pathologist saved my life!”