Controversy
There's an interesting debate raging in the pages of some of the veterinary journals I read. It's not about the current pet food contamination situation, or about vaccine protocols or humane handling of food and farm animals, or.... well, anything even remotely medical. No, this is a debate about wardrobe.
Many of the journals that focus on the practice and business end of veterinary medicine are heavily urging vets to dress nicely - button-down shirt and tie for men, slacks and blouses for women. They say that this helps our clients think of us as professionals instead of the squishy equivalent of Jiffy Lube technicians. They say that it makes us, and our services, seem more valuable, and that it invites more respect, and that showing up to work in scrubs is too casual and informal, and leads to undervaluing of our profession.
Most of the vets who respond are indignant. They like wearing scrubs, they say. Scrubs are comfy and washable and practical, and wearing a suit and tie to wrestle a rottweiler is just ridiculous. They also counter that clients who see them in scrubs think of them as sincere and down-to-earth, and that dressing up makes us look like salesmen.
(Most of the vets who respond are also men.)
And I read this debate, and I listen carefully to both sides, and all I can think of is one response -
I'd LOVE to wear scrubs to work. I'd love to not have to replace my dress pants on a biannual basis because they're so embedded with cat hair that my mere presence at a party triggers allergic reactions. I'd love to not have to wash Mystery Stains out of my nice blouses and daily contemplate the ridiculosity of making a profession dealing with bodily fluids wear white coats.
However, I'm female. And small. And the last time I wore scrubs to work, I was mistaken for a high school volunteer. As it is, even in business-casual clothes and my as-close-to-white-as-possible coats, I still have to deal with being the Young Lady Doctor, and I struggle daily with trying to get both my clients and my coworkers to call me Dr. Becky instead of just 'Beck.' Or 'honey' (a privelege reserved for gentlemen over the age of 75, with small and fluffy dogs that I happen to like). If I were any less formal, I'd wind up actively incapable of contributing to the wellness of my patients.
I know it's not just me dealing with this, either. In all of the clinics I've worked at, I've noticed that while almost all of the male doctors wear scrubs, most of the women still dress up, and I'm fairly certain it's for similar reasons.
I suppose gender equality will have truly arrived when I can show up to work in dancing-gecko scrubs and be taken as seriously as the men I work with. Until then, though, I'll console myself with the thought that, if at 32 I can still pass for student-age, then by the time I'm 40 I'll still look a heck of a lot better than they will.....
(NB: Yes, I do know about the contaminated pet food situation. But the word has already been spread, and ranting about it will only bring me and most of my readers down. I dwell on it enough at work; I don't need to do so here too.)
Many of the journals that focus on the practice and business end of veterinary medicine are heavily urging vets to dress nicely - button-down shirt and tie for men, slacks and blouses for women. They say that this helps our clients think of us as professionals instead of the squishy equivalent of Jiffy Lube technicians. They say that it makes us, and our services, seem more valuable, and that it invites more respect, and that showing up to work in scrubs is too casual and informal, and leads to undervaluing of our profession.
Most of the vets who respond are indignant. They like wearing scrubs, they say. Scrubs are comfy and washable and practical, and wearing a suit and tie to wrestle a rottweiler is just ridiculous. They also counter that clients who see them in scrubs think of them as sincere and down-to-earth, and that dressing up makes us look like salesmen.
(Most of the vets who respond are also men.)
And I read this debate, and I listen carefully to both sides, and all I can think of is one response -
I'd LOVE to wear scrubs to work. I'd love to not have to replace my dress pants on a biannual basis because they're so embedded with cat hair that my mere presence at a party triggers allergic reactions. I'd love to not have to wash Mystery Stains out of my nice blouses and daily contemplate the ridiculosity of making a profession dealing with bodily fluids wear white coats.
However, I'm female. And small. And the last time I wore scrubs to work, I was mistaken for a high school volunteer. As it is, even in business-casual clothes and my as-close-to-white-as-possible coats, I still have to deal with being the Young Lady Doctor, and I struggle daily with trying to get both my clients and my coworkers to call me Dr. Becky instead of just 'Beck.' Or 'honey' (a privelege reserved for gentlemen over the age of 75, with small and fluffy dogs that I happen to like). If I were any less formal, I'd wind up actively incapable of contributing to the wellness of my patients.
I know it's not just me dealing with this, either. In all of the clinics I've worked at, I've noticed that while almost all of the male doctors wear scrubs, most of the women still dress up, and I'm fairly certain it's for similar reasons.
I suppose gender equality will have truly arrived when I can show up to work in dancing-gecko scrubs and be taken as seriously as the men I work with. Until then, though, I'll console myself with the thought that, if at 32 I can still pass for student-age, then by the time I'm 40 I'll still look a heck of a lot better than they will.....
(NB: Yes, I do know about the contaminated pet food situation. But the word has already been spread, and ranting about it will only bring me and most of my readers down. I dwell on it enough at work; I don't need to do so here too.)