My new appreciation for the Metric System

Being in a foreign country can at times present its challenges to anybody- but being an American I find sometimes puts you at a particular disadvantage. But this isn’t a statement that I’m pulling out of nowhere- I have had another cultural run in that once again reminds me that I was not born here.

In Italy, it is required by law for employed people to be examined periodically for conditions that could cause them injury in the future. Now, you may think that working as an Insurance underwriter disqualifies me for office industry- but my friend, you would be sadly mistaken. After all, our business is risk analysis- and so who better than us to know that danger potentially lurks behind every corner.

The first part of my medical journey through Milan started 2 weeks ago when I went with my collegue Maurizio to the hospital for our physical check up. This was comprised of two parts- a general check up and an eye exam. It was actually an interesting process, as the doctor took us aside and reviewed not only personal factors (do you smoke? Check no. Do you play sport? Check yes. Do you get tired at work? Who doesn’t!), but also details pertaining to our job space. He asked me how far I sat from the computer monitor, if there was air conditioning, if there was a glare or blinds to close on our windows. He checked for Scoliosis and blood pressure which are the hazards of our lives glued to swivel chairs.

These may seem like random details to ask- and a terrible reason for someone to take 3 hours out of a work day- but its their way of ensuring if we are able to perform our job, and if anything were to go wrong in the future- if it is the Company’s fault or not.

Of course, I caused problems from the second I walked in the door. The conversation went as follows:
Doctor X: Okay- how tall are you?
Me: Well- in feet I’m 5 foot 8. In meters- ummmm- less than 2
Doctor: Umm, yes, I’d say about 1.7. How much do you weigh?
Me: Well, in POUNDS I’m around …(Sorry Experience- I’m not putting that in writing!)

Anyway, the poor doctor couldn’t eyeball weight the way he could height (except he was kind enough to point out that I was probably heavy). Nor was his room equipped with a scale and at that, neither was his neighbor. We spent about 20 minutes running around the first floor of the hospital looking for a scale- all because I never really thought to weigh myself in pounds.

These are the little pieces of living here- the pieces that are so very important but don’t cross your path every day- but pieces that are essential. It made me realize how much vital information I don’t know, not out of ignorance, but because I’ve never needed to. To emphasize that point- 911 in Italy won’t get you help in an emergency. I did learn some valuable lessons from my trip to the doctor though- and a new appreciation for the ratio of pounds to kilos when I walked out of the hospital feeling half my size!