Pucking The Coach's Daughter

AVA

I stared at the rejection email again, at this point, it was becoming a toxic relationship between my mail and me. The words were the same as they had been every time.

“We loved your application and experience, but your lack of hands-on experience at this time is a concern. Please consider reapplying after gaining at least 3-6 months of clinical experience.”

Three months? How the hell was I supposed to get experience if no one would hire me?

After a long sigh, I dropped my phone on the table and took a long sip of my coffee. The bitterness wasn’t enough to drown out the sour taste in my mouth, but I swallowed it anyway. Another dead end. Another door slammed in my face. This was becoming harder than I thought and I was slowly losing my mind. Six rejections in two weeks? I was here setting up a record.

My phone buzzed again, but I didn’t need to look. I knew it was just another email, another “not yet” from a clinic, another “try again next time” from a hospital. If only it were that easy.

Make that seven rejections.

“Ava, what’s with the long face?” Diane’s voice broke through my thoughts, the sound of her best friend’s laughter filling my space as she slid into the seat across from me, grinning like she had all the answers to my problems.

I didn’t bother trying to hide my frustration, she was going to drill it out of me one way or another if I didn’t speak now.

“Another rejection,” I muttered, staring down at my cup. “Same old story. They all love my credentials, love my passion, but when it comes to the experience they need, I’m left high and dry.” I scoff

Diane raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one who’s just out of school, Ava. They all want experience, but it's like, how do you get experience if no one will hire you?” she said, fueling my frustration.

This was exactly why she was my best friend, she knew the right things to say

“I don’t get it,” I continued, my voice rising in annoyance. “I’ve put in the hours, I’ve done all the right things, and no one cares! I can’t even prove myself to anyone without the stupid three months of experience and no one will give me the chance to get it.”

“It’s not the end of the world, you know. This is just part of the process. You’ll get your break.” Diane chuckled softly as she shook her head.

“I’m just tired of waiting and getting rejected. And what I hate the most is not being able to do anything. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending like I’m okay with it.” I rant out, crossing my arms over my chest and staring out the window.

“Girl, hey, it’s okay to feel frustrated. But you know what? You’ve got options. Why don’t you talk to your dad? He’s a coach, he knows all kinds of athletes who could probably use a physio. Maybe one of them would give you a shot.” She suggested

I knew this option was going to come sooner than later. And knowing Diane, she must have done her best to keep it to herself to be bringing up.

The idea of asking Dad for help felt like a failure. First I rebelled against being a Lawyer and even after going into medicine, I still fought about not being a surgeon. Asking him for help would only make him win. And I'd rather chew up 100 rejection emails than do that.

“I’m not asking my dad for a handout, Diane,” I said, shaking her head firmly. “You know what that means and you know I’d never go to him for help”

“He’s your dad” she rolled her eyes “You’re out of options as it is. Plus, it's not like you’re asking to work for him, maybe he knows someone who could give you a chance.”

I sighed, unwilling to entertain the thought and I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t drop the topic. So, instead, I grabbed the menu from the table and started flipping through it, hoping to change the subject.

“And you’re still eating this crap? I swear, one day your metabolism is going to have enough of your cake addiction.” I said, staring at the cake on her plate

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Cake makes everything better, trust me.” She laughed, taking a huge bite

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “Fine. I’ll have some of your cake. But I’m telling you, the next time you talk about your cramps, better believe I'm stuffing you up with salad”

Diane smiled knowingly as she flagged the waiter down. “You’re just stressed, Ava. It’ll all come together. You just have to trust that it will.” She held my hand with an assuring firm

“I know it will. I just hope it's soon” I smile back, leaning into my chair as I stare at the half-empty cup in front of me. If only trusting it were that easy, I wouldn’t be here stuffing my face with this poison called cake.