A New Doctor Friend?

My last day of employment for Gabrielle was this past Sunday. About halfway through that shift I got a call from a dude named Matt. He explained that he and his girlfriend were moving to Westwood, and that they needed help transporting some of their furniture from the moving truck into their new apartment. They didn't have much so it wouldn't take long. He said that he'd make it worth my time, offering me fifty bucks for what he guessed would take about ninety minutes. Despite being all the way in Westwood (I've found that most of my jobs are on the west side) I accepted his offer and arranged to meet him at 1:00 the next day.

Initially I felt pretty dissatisfied in accepting another moving job, but after finishing up my last mundane day of flyering, I realized that ANY job would be an improvement over this minimum wage 'marketing' gig (I had since come to the conclusion that 'marketing' sounded a bit more professional than 'flyer distribution').

Anyways, I left my parent's house the next day at around noon because west side traffic is always unpredictable and I really despise being late. Naturally, I was parked in Westwood with about half an hour to spare. I pulled out my library borrowed paperback and rolled my seat back, way back. "Finally I heaved myself onto my narrow margin of bed, stealthily pulled at the odds and ends of sheets piled up to the south of my stone-cold heels-- and Lolita lifted her head and gaped at me."

One O'Clock came and I gave Matt a call. He had just arrived so I bookmarked my current page and gathered a bunch of silver coins from my ashtray. Stuffed those quarters dollars and nickels into the parking meter and trotted over to the given address. I had two hours on the meter and was careful to take note of the current time.

I followed Matt's directions to the alley behind his new apartment and quickly spotted the moving truck. As I approached the vehicle Matt exited the driver's side and welcomed me with a handshake and a smile. He wore a yellow Flight of the Conchords t-shirt, cargo shorts, and a University of Hawaii baseball cap. He looked about six or seven years older than me, and because the new apartment was only two blocks away from the UCLA campus, I assumed that he was a grad student. He explained that his girlfriend would be arriving in LA the next day, so it'd be him and I carrying out the move.

Upon opening the truck I found myself looking at a pretty standard assortment of shit to be moved: mattress, couch, cardboard boxes, nightstand, guitar case (presumably with a guitar inside), snowboard, mountain bike, DVD rack, etc.
We began by gathering as many small items as we could possibly hold, walking from the alley, through a garage, into a lobby, onto an elevator, up five floors, and down an extended hallway into his new apartment. We repeated this back and forth process about five times, making introductory small talk throughout each trip.

With each elevator ride I learned more and more about this presumed grad student. It turns out that he and his girlfriend were in fact both doctors, both pursuing careers in radiology. Specifically, she'd be specializing in mammography, so, as he put it, "She'll be dealing with a lot of breasts." At the age of 32 he had just finished up his residency in San Deigo, while she'd completed her's somewhere in Virginia. Or, was it West Virginia? Anyways, they'd be moving in together after a whole year apart. She'd gotten a job at the UCLA Medical Center, located just blocks away from the new apartment, and he'd gotten one at LA Children's Hospital.

He asked me about myself and I felt pretty unaccomplished while explaining my plans for the summer and my uncertainty about my post-graduation years. "I'll probably take some time off after graduating," was the most that I could come up with. We kept on moving.

After a while I had nearly run out of questions to ask the doctor, so I suggested switching to an assembly line type of moving model. He thought this to be a good idea so I became the first leg of the assembly line, transporting the contents of the truck to the bottom of the elevator, while he proceeded to elevate up and down from the lobby to the apartment. This effectively prevented any awkward elevator silences and seemed to speed up the whole thang. Yes, thang.

Similar to the last moving job I accidentally dropped a night stand and was left watching the contents of its drawers land across the alley floor. I quickly scooped up all of the doctor's shit and slammed the drawer close. I think it jammed and might be permanently broken, though he probably won't realize for another day or two.

With about fifteen minutes left on the parking meter we quickly moved the mattress and the couch into the apartment, doing so as a team! With the last piece of furniture moved in we made our way back down to the alley, riding the elevator while enduring a tired silence. He thanked me for all the help and handed me $60 as he shook my hand. As I thanked him in return he concluded our time together by saying, "If you're ever in the Westwood area give me a call and we can go out for a drink."

Driving home I wondered how sincere that last comment was. Although I'd probably be too nervous to ever do so, maybe it'd be a good idea to take him up on that offer. While having a doctor as a friend sounds like a good idea, what would I talk about with a 32 year old radiologist? Is it worth a shot? especially considering the fact that I'm one of two people that he currently knows in Los Angeles. I'm still not sure, what do you guys think?