Doctor! You have no Mask! Part 2: The Exam

In part one of this blog I discussed the good, the bad and the ugly of “authority bias,” and humans tendency to succumb to it: good and bad. In part two I discuss the actual appointment that brought on this dive into trying to understand my own psychology. click here to read: Here!

A little background: Twice a year, if an airline pilot is old like me, he must go to an FAA certified doctor to have a medical examination to prove that he is of sound body to fly people around for money. It’s generally a not a big deal: The doctor checks your eyesight, your blood pressure, your urine (supposedly, to see if you have diabetes, but I think it’s because they like the taste), etc. If you pass the exam you get to fly again, make money, and feed your family. Now here is the scary part for a pilot, if on the long shot you fail, you instantly become a penguin (penguins can’t fly and neither can you). Unlike a penguin though, a pilot who can’t fly, starves (at least in his head he starves, or at the very least, becomes homeless).

The selection of your doctor is crucial because he holds your livelihood in his hands. In my experience, most FAA medical examiners are easy-going and fair. I am sure if you limp in on a home-made wooden leg or have an unreported missing eye, they may disqualify you (or at the very least ask, “Are you sure you’re still good to fly?”), but they aren’t looking for reasons to kick you to Skid Row. That is, unless you get “The Hammer.”

The Hammer is comparable to the mechanic that after your car passes the smog test says, “Let’s open up the hood and look deeper, just to make sure.” I have been to The Hammer before. His assistant wanted to fail me on the eye test even though my vision is better than 20/20. Turns out her machine wasn’t plugged in, but the burden of proof was on me to plead that, “I’ve had perfect eye-sight my whole life!”  The doctor then proceeded to touch me all over, like I was a prized-racehorse that he was buying to use as a stud. I left the office with a valid medical but down a $140 and big part of my dignity.

I recently moved and I was due for my medical. I needed a new “doc.” So I had to do a little digging. I was looking for the FAA equivalent of the smog-check mechanic, who takes your fifty dollars, and with a wink says, “Car seems clean to me.” I was looking for the cool guy. The chill guy. The guy who says, “Relax. I’m on your side, bro.” I found my guy on good recommendation. His staff was very accommodating to my schedule. His assistants were friendly and professional. His office was covered in pictures of airplanes. As I relaxed in the examination room, I knew I found the right guy. He was “pro-pilot.” I was smiling to myself, “Good work, this is going to be easy-peasy.”

My smile disappeared when he entered the room with a friendly smile. How could I tell he was smiling? Because he wasn’t wearing a mask! My social alarm bells were screaming in my head. He gave me a gregarious hello, but I think he could see the alarm in my eyebrows. Instead of saying, “Oh sorry, I forgot,” and putting on his mask, he doubled down. “Oh, you don’t have to wear a mask in here. I’m vaccinated.”  Oh no, I thought, this doctor is too cool! He doesn’t follow any of the rules. He might as well have been like, “You want to smoke a joint with me? Don’t worry, we are extra chill in here.” (For the record, I know everyone is smoking weed like candy cigarettes these days, but it is still not allowed if you are a pilot).

My mind raced. My wife is especially “COVID conscious.” She has a high-risk father that we are doing our best to protect. She has hammered it into my head, “You are not allowed out of the house unless you wear a Hazmat suit and take a sanitizer shower!” She might isolate me in a closet for two-weeks for making eye-contact with one of the mask-less. Forget about having a close-conversation with one while he looked in my ears and we exchanged bio-hazard breath particles. It was the perfect set-up to resist the authority bias: Whether or not the man was contagious wouldn’t matter in my wife’s mind, if I said we were went mask-less, I would be sleeping outside in a tent.

So what did I do? Did I do the socially courageous if awkward thing and tell a medical doctor, “Uh hey, let’s just wear our masks, man.” No. Not only did I not tell him to put on a mask, but I also took off my mask off too, so it wouldn’t feel awkward! Huge authority bias fail! Of course, there was the preceding inner monologue:

Smart Marc, “What are you doing? You are supposed to be wearing masks!”

Easily Influenced Marc, “He said I could take it off. He’s not wearing a mask and I don’t really like wearing a mask…”

Smart Marc, “None of that matters…”

EIM, “He’s been vaccinated, he probably doesn’t have it.”

SM, “You just read an article this morning that says you can be vaccinated but still be a carrier!”

EIM, “He’s not concerned and he’s a doctor. Are you going to tell doctor about doctor stuff?”

SM, “He just said, he’s tired of wearing a mask and wants to get back to regular life, isn’t that a red flag? Plus, they say the mask doesn’t protect you, it protects other people. So if he’s not wearing one what’s the point of me wearing a mask?”

EIM, “Exactly. Bye mask.”

SM, “Wait, what?!”

The inner argument took about half a second. I was weak. Plus, as strong as the authority bias was the inner desire not to make things awkward. What’s that about? He seemed to be doing me a favor, it was like he was saying, “This is a safe space. You can kick back and take your mask off, just like old times. Heck, take off your pants if you want to, I know I am.” (He did not actually take off his pants). I took my mask off for the dumbest of reasons: I didn’t want to be rude. I have heard that people have been murdered because they didn’t want to be impolite. I know I am fully capable now of being that person.

Besides the weird and awkward feeling of sitting in small room with another man with our masks off and in my mind, our figurative pants off, he was great doctor. He seemed knowledgeable and conversational. He had a good sense of humor. He didn’t probe too much and gave me a clean bill of health. Plus, since I haven’t left the house in months, he gave me an adrenaline rush of living on the edge as much as any motorcycle rally. He also gave me the valuable lesson that I am perfectly susceptible to the “authority bias,” just like those people I gave directions to in the airport (see part one) and should be vigilant against it in the future.

 

The real question is would I go back to this doctor? Yeah. I mean I survived and don’t appear to have COVID. Maybe it’s not the best answer but at least it’s honest. We make trade-offs in life. Sometimes your mechanic has no teeth and says off-color stuff, but he is willing to sign off the emissions on your oil-burning 10-year-old Volkswagen. Sometimes your doctor has no mask, but he signs off your medical without being The Hammer.  And sometimes your wife makes you quarantine in the backyard for 10 days (or whatever the CDC is recommending). Next time though, I will be vaccinated. At least I hope I am. I am running out of firewood and baked beans out here and the wi-fi is spotty.

(Read Part 1)