What you really think

I read an article today about an experiment involving 700 patients at a Medical Centre in Boston, US. The project is allowing patients to see the records made by their therapists, with the hope that giving them such insights will help with recovery and "improve therapeutic trust and communication".

At first, the idea sounded horrible. Surely, even the most transparent therapists would have to self-edit to make sure their notes were encouraging and couldn’t be interpreted in an offensive way. Or in a way that could reverse any progress made with patients. Therefore, the patient is probably never going to get a completely honest idea of what the therapist is thinking.

But imagine if the notes were 100% honest and unbiased. And now imagine knowing exactly what people think of you in other areas of life. Wouldn’t that be amazing? It would be a bit like living in the film The Invention of Lying. But not really, really shit.

The first meeting

Rather than “It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you”, what do people really think when they meet me for the first time? I’m sure it would be much more along the lines of:

“It’s not really anything to meet you. I’ve met a lot of people, and very few of them do I ever talk to again. I’ve not heard much about you at all, but I'm making an initial judgement on the quality of your handshake, how much you’re really paying attention to me right now and what you’re wearing.”

The flatmates

I’ve never been short of things to say about flatmates during my time at the bottom of London’s renting ladder. But I’ve never told anyone how much I’ve hated living with them. Which makes me really worry what they think about me.

“It’s really worrying that you like to eat from children’s plates and bowls. And it completely contradicts your sleeping habits, which are more like a pensioner’s. And how many things do you need to take into the bathroom just to put on your face?”

The interview

I’d love to know what interviewers really think of me. Do you really think that the second you shake someone’s hand and leave, the interviewers immediately disperse and go back their desks? It’s much more likely they’ll have something to say, something they would never tell you in the obligatory “sorry, you just weren’t the right fit for us” phone call.

When I leave an interview, I think it’s more along the lines of this:

“We should probably discuss her abilities for this role, but could anyone concentrate on anything she said, or were you completely distracted by her nervous fidgeting? I couldn’t put up with that every day. Who’s next?”

The doctor’s appointment

When you go to the doctor’s, you expect nothing more than sympathy. Along with a bit of medical expertise, of course. But I think my appointments probably make the doctor think something more like this:

“What kind of person comes to the doctor, asks for help, and then looks at my prescription and tells me she’s too scared to take the medication? She probably thinks she’s leading the way for an anti-antibiotic resistance movement, when really she’s just too scared. She’ll be back in ten years’ time with three children clinging onto her leg, begging me for medication.”

The blog reader

I like to think those of you who read my blog would think it passes for reasonably okay. But then, when I think about it properly, I'm not so sure.

"If this blog were a human, it would be old enough to walk and talk by now. It would probably even know colours and numbers. Maybe if Jess spend less time on her blog, she might know that stuff, too."