#office!reader

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policies you’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and lock it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policiesyou’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and look it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...