Chapter 8 - David Had Not Created The Whole Problem
The board recessed.
I found David alone beside a bank of windows overlooking Boston.
I should have walked away.
I didn't.
He saw me.
“Come to enjoy it?”
“No.”
“Could've fooled me.”
I stood several feet away.
“You didn't know about Jennifer.”
“No.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
He looked almost annoyed.
“Why?”
“Because your face changed.”
He laughed.
“My face.”
“Very scientific.”
He looked outside.
After a moment:
“Do you know what this hospital looked like when I arrived?”
“No.”
“Executive staff were spending hours every week on unscheduled family escalations.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It was.”
He ignored the sarcasm.
“Security had no consistent standard. Nurses told people, ‘Ask administration,’ as though administration were a location instead of a function.”
That sounded like something he had said many times.
“Staff were burned out.”
“I know.”
“Patient Relations had a twelve-day backlog.”
I did know that.
“People learned if they screamed loudly enough, someone important eventually appeared.”
He turned toward me.
“You think that's fair?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“I think you saw something real.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“You made being difficult a reason not to be heard.”
He looked away.
“Sometimes being difficult is the problem.”
“Yes.”
“And sometimes it's separate from the problem.”
He stared.
I had learned that from Luke Brennan.
David rubbed his forehead.
“I didn't ask Carol to judge people's coats.”
“No.”
“I didn't ask nurses to stop explaining complaint rights.”
“No.”
“I didn't tell anybody to classify crying as threatening.”
“No.”
“Then why am I the villain in this story?”
I thought about it.
“You aren't.”
He looked at me.
“That disappoint you?”
“No.”
I leaned against the opposite wall.
“You're the administrator.”
He almost smiled.
“Worse.”
“I think people took your priorities seriously.”
His smile disappeared.
I continued.
“And you liked the results enough not to ask how they were getting them.”
That hit.
Because it was close to the truth he'd used against Nathan.
Delegation.
Green arrows.
Silence.
David said:
“Do you think Nathan asked?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Then maybe the board should suspend itself.”
“Maybe.”
He laughed.
I meant it more than he thought.
Then he looked at my missing badge.
“You broke policy yesterday.”
“I know.”
“Do you think Margaret is going to save you?”
“No.”
That answer irritated him.
“What?”
“I thought she might.”
“And?”
“She told me no.”
He laughed for real.
“Smart woman.”
I hated that we agreed.
Then his expression changed.
“Do you know why your charge-nurse promotion hasn't gone through?”
My stomach tightened.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I held it.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because you have a judgment problem.”
Anger rose immediately.
“You weren't my manager.”
“No. I sat on the advancement committee.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because it wasn't denied. It was deferred.”
I stepped closer.
“Because of Brennan?”
“Partly.”
“That was nine months ago.”
“And yesterday proved my concern.”
I wanted to hit him with the unfairness of that.
Then remembered I had tried to walk an unknown visitor into executive offices.
“Maybe.”
He looked surprised.
I continued:
“But if you thought I had a judgment problem, why didn't you tell me?”
“Not my role.”
I laughed.
He heard himself.
A man who believed information should flow through proper channels.
Unless the proper channel threatened him.
I asked:
“Did my advancement count in your staffing metrics?”
His eyes narrowed.
“No.”
“Then why mention it now?”
He looked toward the boardroom.
“Because you think I'm the only person in this building who makes decisions about people without telling them.”
That stopped me.
He wasn't wrong.
Not enough to save him.
Enough to complicate me.
The boardroom door opened.
Margaret stood there.
“David.”
He straightened.
“Emily.”
So did I.
Margaret looked at both of us.
“We need you.”
David asked:
“For what?”
Her face was unreadable.
“The board found the original thirty-day pilot proposal.”
David's jaw tightened.
Margaret continued:
“It required every denied executive request to generate an independent Patient Relations review.”
Dr. Whitmore appeared behind her.
David looked at him.
Nathan looked sick.
Margaret said:
“Those reviews stopped happening in week six.”
David said nothing.
She waited.
May you like
Then:
“We need to know who decided they were no longer necessary.”
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