Page 43 of Vengeance (Ruthless MC 4)
“And if we follow your suggestion to get rid of the daily morning meeting, when will we get a chance to talk and gather new ideas about how to handle common patient problems?”
I stop her there with a compromise. “That’s on page three, where I talk about adopting software to share our patient notes. But if you want, we could add a section for general thoughts on certain kinds of cases. The software can accommodate that. And I’d be happy to run a data analysis at the end of each month and make a troubleshoot list—”
“I don’t want to read a monthly troubleshoot list, and I don’t want to share my thoughts via software,” Olivia said, totally interrupting me.
I thought she was too much of a sweet magnolia to ever do anything that impolite, but I guess she decided to make an exception for me.
“I want us to share our thoughts with each other," she continued. "Because we’re a team, and that’s what teams do. They figure out things together.”
“But each team member would be able to figure it out on their own if we just—”
Olivia interrupted me a second unprecedented time. “You’re not hearing me, Allie. And that’s what I mean by us having a major issue. Village Work, as I like to call it, is the beating heart of my clinics. And everything on this list goes against that ethos.”
She skims the second page. “I mean, how are we going to learn the value of coming together for unexpected clinic rushes if we implement this walk-in cap you're suggesting? If it were up to you, we’d actually start turning patients away!”
She tosses my list from her like it’s radioactive garbage and sits back with a disappointed sigh. “I invited you to this meeting because I wanted us to talk about putting you in charge while I was out on maternity leave. But now, I’m truly concerned about the changes you might try to implement behind my back if I do that. After reading over this list, I think I’ll have to go with somebody else.”
She was concerned about how I would run things? She actually thought her haphazard “everybody pitch in whenever they can” style was better than mine?
I always have a plan. Always, always, always.
But I just lost it.
I ranted. I raved. I called her a trust-fund baby without a clue. And I told her that her instant dismissal of my ideas was everything that was wrong with the American non-profit system—which yes, was run and almost completely controlled by people like her, who did not actually need non-profits.
And maybe she wouldn’t have fired me for all that insubordination—Olivia truly is a sweet person who forgives easily and errs on the side of assuming the best of everyone—but somewhere in all of that ranting and raving, I quit.
“Without notice!” I added, actually shouting at her. “Since you don’t seem to value things like preparing ahead of time to be short-staffed.”
Then I slammed out of her office instead of humbly accepting her offer to run the clinic in her absence, like I'd rehearsed in the mirror that morning.
So, in short, after years of telling myself not to be crazy…
I went totally crazy.
On Olivia.
One of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
What is wrong with me? And how can I fix everything I just did? Also, do I want to fix it? Especially since Olivia made it crystal clear I’m not a good fit for her clinic’s career ladder.
If Bernice were still here, she’d be my first call. But she’s not. She’s getting married to O2’s father this upcoming weekend, and she didn’t sound terribly upset about it the last time we texted. Olivia and Phantom are flying out to Vegas for the wedding. Minerva too.
But not me. It would be too dangerous.
A wave of bone-deep loneliness passes over me. Damn Griffin Latham. Why did he have to take my first and only ever best friend away?
There’s a stinging pressure in my eyes. But you know what? I refuse to give into tears or self-pity.
Because I don’t cry. I don’t waste time feeling sorry for myself. Or let myself get too connected to people.
I pull myself together as I stop my car in front of the backhouse. Okay, new plan…Quickly pick up B2. Get him settled in with his best friend, Cocomelon. Order DoorDash for dinner. Then make a real new plan to hit my Year Five goal of opening and running my own clinic.
Back on plan. I let out a little breath of relief as I step into the backhouse daycare.
However, the “pick up B2 quickly” step gets derailed when Miss Minerva comes straight up to me and says, “So, I hear B2 won’t be coming to daycare anymore. You just up and quit!”
She already knows this not because she’s a sorceress (really a witch), but like Bernice used to brag, her family members’ gossip game is A++. No surprise there.
