Where's MY Pager?

Please be prepared, this will be an installment of Peter Griffin's "What Really Chaps My Ass..."

Each M2 is assigned a full-fledged doctor to be their preceptor. This preceptor is meant to be a clinical mentor, someone who can help us newbies learn to stand on our own two feet in the hospital. His duty is to show us around the hospital, the physical exam, and basic patient care.

My preceptor, however, is under the impression that I am at his beck and call, a short white coat slave. He emails me a few hours before he expects me to meet him. He tells me to page him when it is time to meet, but has the attractive habit of just not answering those pages. And then, the icing on the cake, he really is not a wealth of clinical knowledge. He prefers talking about exams, tests, and patients in theory, not actually seeing and doing these things.

So here I am, feeling that my blood pressure is uncomplicated Stage 1 hypertension ranges, if not higher because once again I have been beckoned. I will have one hour to get to my car, drive home, change clothes, eat lunch, and come back to the hospital to meet him. Then, I'll be expected to listen to his rantings for as long as he deems appropriate, probably in the ballpark of 4 hours.

That really chaps my ass.