Graduation

I alluded to this story in my KOL post. I think its time I shared it.

I tell this story every year to the graduating fellows- I’ve told it so many times over the years that I suspect they’ve all heard it and now they can’t help but roll their eyes when grandpa (read: me) starts telling the same story for the umpteenth time.

Graduation nowadays is a pretty casual if not festive affair: we find a nice restaurant with good food, a big enough room for all of us to be together, and a lot of booze. Bidirectional roasting usually occurs after everyone is socially lubricated and ultimately we resort to niceties, handshakes, hugs, and slaps on the back. Gifts are distributed and everyone goes home happy.

In April of my fellowship year, Vince Caruso and Paul Timperman (my co-fellows at the University of Colorado) and I were invited by an unnamed medical device company executive for a day of fun and games. This day was declared our collective graduation present; our attendings very graciously gave us the day off and even covered the call that night. We were told to prepare for a day of skiing and given an address in the northwest side of Denver. We had to be there early, as I vaguely recalled. We had no idea what we were in for.

Upon arriving at the address, we found ourselves at a commuter airport where we were whisked onto a private plane along with our gear. We took off- it was a spectacularly clear day- and headed south. We landed at a small airport at Telluride, where a small plane was still stuck off to the side of the runway, its nose buried in the ground from an botched take-off or landing. I never found out which.

We were driven over to the base lodge where we geared up and set out for an epic day of skiing. The weather was perfect- we were shedding layers in no time. The truth is that I am a terrible skier and the guys I was skiing with were not; more often than not, I would finally catch up to them and they would be lying in the snow with their shirts pulled up, sunbathing as it were or making snow angels. They even resorted to yelling “BABBALOO!” while watching me careen down a ridiculously steep mogul field upon which I had absolutely no business being.

Indulged with a complimentary lunch and plenty of drinks, the afternoon was more leisurely. After a quick apres ski session, we headed back to the airport and began our flight back to Denver. I made it home in time for dinner that night, no worse for wear, thinking I had lived the lifestyle for one day that the richest 0.01% live everyday. That was enough for me. What an outrageously fun day.

Usually, at this point, the fellows’ jaws are on the ground in disbelief that: 1) such corporate shenanigans happened, and 2) they were wasted on a chump skier like me. It really did happen and I even have photographic evidence despite this happening during the pre-IPhone era. But the truth is that there are even more shocking stories out there like the time that another company’s sales rep handed me a still-banded stack of 50 $1 bills outside of a strip club and said, “have a great time.” Or the time we played golf at Pebble Beach as guests of a certain company.

I know I’ve covered some of this territory in the KOL post. There’s plenty to talk about when we consider the influence we both endure and exert as close partners of medical device companies. Obviously most of the time, these relationships are productive and ultimately help patients, or so I’d like to think. But the relationships are fraught and can be twisted into something not so healthy or helpful. This is a topic we can always stand to reflect upon and carefully consider.