Rylee grimaced. “Eight months for an appointment.”
“Eight!”
“Neurologist. It’s usually longer. But they put my name in their computer as a priority for cancellations. Just a warning, if they call, I’m gone.”
“I insist. Absolutely. You think the new doctor will do another brush past?” Neesa asked. “I mean, I think you should consider taking a sick day, stay home, find the top fifty people within an hour’s drive, and make an appointment with every single one of them so you’re not getting the ‘Whiney Woman’ treatment, then having to recover from the indignity and start again. Number one says anxiety, but the next week you have two other pans in the fire.”
“Put it in a spreadsheet so once I was diagnosed, I could cancel the rest?”
“Exactly.”
“Tempting,” Rylee said. “Aggressive but tempting. And now, I would very much like to change the subject.”
“Okay, attrition then. Here’s our problem synthesized down to stark terms: We’re losing too many of our crisis field workers.”
“Turnover is too fast for the newbies to feel like they have mastery before those who have the skills down and have figured out the ins and outs leave,” Rylee said. “That overwhelm leads to anxiety. Anxiety leads to dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction leads to attrition.”
“I looked at the stats and exit reports,” Neesa countered. “They’re leaving for good reasons: injuries and health issues, pregnancy or young children, spouses moving out of our area.” Neesa ticked off on her fingers.
“Some of it, yes. I think they’re being nice to us. I know they are because Baji all but said so. He wanted to make sure that in his exit, he didn’t say anything that would make it seem as if we were responsible for his decision to leave and become aparamedic. The exit interviews are polite and encouraging, but they aren’t getting at the meat of the issue.”
“Ideas?” Neesa asked.
“I had one. But after today, I’m rethinking it.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“So your background is numbers, and my background is boots on the ground. Being in the Navy but working on the green side as a Marine medic gave me the hands-on field experience we need, particularly for our fast-action responders. I’d like to focus on that team first. My work for the Navy was gratifying, and serving is my calling in life. Having said that, there were a lot of pieces that made my military career shorter than I had anticipated, and they might apply here.”
“Give me two off the top of your head,” Neesa said.
“For women, there are safety issues and sanitary issues not faced by men.”
“Right.” Neesa leaned forward and picked up her pen.
“There are normal health issues and personal injuries. For our people, I think we need to consider morale issues as our people deal with the psychological effects of seeing how devastating Mother Nature can be. PTSD. Our people aren’t dealing with war. War is a government choice. The events our fast-action crew deploys to internationally are out of the blue. Male and Female, newborn and frail with age, all impacted in the middle of living life, suddenly having all their resources destroyed. It takes a toll on those in the field. Then there’s the idea that you have to jump off at any minute, right? That’s not something we did in the military. Maybe for a special forces group, they might get a call, and snap, they’re gone. We had time to plan and wind things up.”
“But our people get the call out, and whatever was happening—tickets to the big game, dad in the hospital, wife in her ninth month of pregnancy—they have to grab their jumpbag, race to the plane, and fly to somewhere in the world for some amount of time.”
“Exactly,” Rylee said. “Mail, plants, pets, clothes at the dry cleaner, you have to have that all planned for in advance, all the time.”
Neesa laid her pen back on the desk. “It’s a particular type of person we’re looking for. Someone who’s down with all that.”
“A very small population. And we want them for us. Other groups want that unique demographic for themselves. So there’s a competition for that small field. The more we form a cohesive, supportive family, the better. But a questionnaire won’t do it. It’s standing shoulder to shoulder that will get us our answers.” Rylee reached up and scratched her scalp. “So I had two ideas. One was to talk to Hailey Stapleton, sorry, Sterling now. Hailey Sterling. Since she left us to work for Iniquus Logistics, she told me they have a whole program to support families when their Iniquus operator gets called out. These support workers go in and fill the need. I’ll give you a for instance: When Hailey’s husband is out of town, her yard work is done, her car is cleaned and repaired, if she’s sick, someone’s there cooking and cleaning and tending her, this group picks up the day-to-day load that Ares would shoulder if he were around. Does it replace Ares? Absolutely not. But it doesn’t force his family labor onto her shoulders. That helps Hailey, and Ares is content knowing that his wife is being cared for by the Iniquus family. ISO, she calls it, an Iniquus Support Officer.”
“Honestly,” Neesa said, “I’d much rather allocate money to help keep our people than spend it on recruiting and training while we watch the rotating door spin.”
“We don’t know those needs, and we don’t know if that would move the needle. So I was going to propose that I train with a few of the Fast Response folks and deploy with them—not to do their job but to observe and ask questions about theirexperience. I don’t want to be what we call in the military a ‘good idea fairy,’ someone who sits in the office and thinks they know better than boots on the ground.”
Neesa pursed her lips. “I don’t think your deployment is a good idea. Not with your health issues.”
“Tingling fingers and toes. It’s not advancing past that yet. I’m good.”
“Are you?” Neesa canted her head. “Seriously, Rylee, are you?”
“Today, yes. Tomorrow?” She shrugged. “But I could always start and see. I can pull myself out if necessary. This isn’t a vanity project. I’m not going to endanger anyone, let alone myself. By the way, our team that was down in Colombia is coming in. I told them to rest and catch up with their personal lives, and we’d see them Monday for a debrief. But I already reached out to Lima Team, and tomorrow I’ll join their evolution, fast roping out of a helicopter.”
“Rylee, no.”
