San Francisco was cloudy, and she liked it that way. Los Angeles, home of the blonde California Girl forever immortalized in the Barbie and the Beach Boys could kiss her ass. Being a blonde bombshell was so far out of her range she didn't even consider that it was what some people wanted. If she couldn't get it, it wasn't worth getting. Christina chose her post-grad hospitals with the skill and precision she would later use with a scalpel. Her rankings were complete. She had created a short computer script which ranked the programs. Not only did she factor in the prestige of the hospital, but also the number of honors individual surgeons received. The number of surgeries performed per intern, which would increase the odds of her getting her hands on a scalpel. The drop-out rate—higher was better in her opinion. That meant the program was tough. Next, the fellowships offered to residents completing the program. Ok, maybe complex algorithm was more accurate than simple script. She debugged, fed in the data and paused, waiting for the results.
1. Seattle Grace Hospital
Yeah, baby. The one with the hearts. How she loved the hearts. Because the one thing you need to stay alive? A beating heart.
She scrolled down, looking at the rest of her list. Seattle was the only west coast option; everything else was north east. Ish, except for the Miami hospital. Although she hadn't factored in the weather in the equation, she didn't want to spend her surgical residency in the sun. Nope.
She tabbed over to the National Resident Matching login screen and started keying in her choices. Colin had wanted to discuss her rankings, and she would. Sure. But first, she would put them in the system. And he could talk, if he really wanted to be that guy, but she had faith in her choices. And her algorithm.
