While I’m washing my hands after my last patient, I hear my name called over the intercom. “Dr. Culpepper, please pick up line one. Dr. Culpepper to line one,” the voice repeats.
I walk over to the closest telephone hanging on the wall. Picking up the receiver, I say, “This is Dr. Culpepper.”
“Thomas.” The voice of my boss sends chills of dread through me.
“Constance, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you were free for lunch today.”Is she serious?
Yet, she’s still my boss, so I don’t feel comfortable telling her to take the hint already. “What is this about?” I ask. If it’s business, I’ll have to see her. If it’s personal, I’ll make sure I have other plans.
Her tone is borderline flirty. “I wanted to discuss the auction for our Spring Fling.”
“I’m not participating with that part of the event, Constance. What does that have to do with me?” I ask warily.
“We’re asking all the staff to donate something we can raffle or to help find donations. The money we raise this year will be used to repaint the pediatric wing. We want to make it bright and cheerful for the kids.”
That’s obviously a great cause. As such, I tell her, “I’d be happy to make a monetary donation, but I don’t have anything to auction off.”
“How about your time?” she asks, her voice dripping in innuendo.
I have a feeling I know where she’s going with this, but I’m going to need her to spell her intentions out. “What do you mean bymy time?”
“You could auction off a date or something,” she practically purrs. “We can discuss it at lunch.”
“I’m sorry, Constance. I can’t have lunch with you today. I’m meeting my lady friend.” I hurry to remind her, “Which also means I’m not going to go on a date with someone else, even if it is for charity. I will, however, be happy to write you a check to put toward painting.”
“I suppose if that’s all you can do …” Are you kidding me? How can a person in a professional situation, let alone my boss, actually soundpoutyabout my refusing a date?
“If there’s nothing else,” I interrupt her, “I’m still on duty.”
“That’s all for now, Thomas.” This sounds like a threat. Like she’s going to track me down every chance she gets. Which I wouldn’t put past her.
Instead of responding, I merely hang up the phone.
One of the nurses walks by me. Becky is in her fifties and looks like one of those friendly moms from a sitcom. “You look like you just ate a bad burrito,” she tells me. Reaching out to touch my forehead with her hand, she asks, “You okay? You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”
I don’t want to gossip, but I also want to find out as much about Constance as I can. It’s in my best interest to know if she has the potential of turning into a serial stalker. “What do you know about Constance Brucker?” I ask Becky.
Her brown eyes open widely in surprise. “What do you want to know?”
“Is she … you know …”Psycho?A bunny boiler? But I don’t ask that. Instead, I go with, “A good person to work for?”
“I don’t have a lot of exposure to her,” Becky says. “But I get the feeling that that’s what you’re asking.” She takes my arm and leads me to an empty bay. Then she pulls the curtain around us and asks, “What’s going on, Thomas? You can trust me.”
I hem and haw before clearing my throat. As I have no one else to ask, I finally confess, “She wants to go out on a date with me.”
Becky rolls her eyes and groans, “Yuck.” She follows that up with, “I mean, oh. How do you feel about that?”
I don’t want to come right out and bag on the woman, so I say, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date my boss.”
Her chin bobs up and down. “That’s what Dr. Monroe told her.”
“Who’s that?” Not only haven’t I worked with a Dr. Monroe yet, but his headshot is not on our wall of fame.
“Bill Monroe. You were hired to take his place,” she tells me.
“Did he leave because of Constance?” I realize I’m jumping right into gossip territory here, but this is information I need to have.
