With her hands positioned angrily on her hips, she says, “I wanted to introduce you around. You know, help you get to know some more people in town.”
I don’t believe her for a minute, as she could do that regardless of who my date was. She’s simply scrambling to try to get out of an embarrassing situation. At lease, I hope she’s embarrassed. “While I appreciate your intent,” I tell her. “I once again respectfully decline your offer. Now if that will be all, I need to get going.”
I turn around to leave, but Constance stops me. “That isn’t all, Thomas.” I turn back to face her in time to hear, “I’m going to have to make some changes to your schedule. You’re going to take over the night shift starting next week. Dr. Ramirez is going to be taking some time off.” The expression on her face is so superior, it’s clear she thinks she’s won.
“Dr. Ramirez is going on maternity leave,” I tell her. “You mentioned that when I was hired. But you also told me Dr. Hammond was going to move to nights, and that I would take Dr. Hammond’s place during the day.”
“Is that what I said?” She’s obviously trying to get even with me for not wanting to date her and I’m tempted to tell her what to do with her job. The problem is, I signed a contract and it didn’t specify what shifts I would work. I only had Constance’s word on that.
While I could accuse her of sexual harassment to get out of my contract, I don’t have any real evidence yet. Of course, after today, I plan on going home and starting a journal of all things said and retribution executed.
“You clearly told me I would be working a day shift,” I assure Constance.
“Well, Thomas …”—she glares at me like I just ran over her cat—“things change. And they’re going to change startingMonday. Please check your revised schedule and report for work accordingly.”
I worked the night shift for four years when I was starting out and the whole time I felt like a vampire. It was dark when I went to the hospital and dark when I came home. I rarely saw the sun, and I missed it. Now, years after paying my dues, I’m being cast back into the shadows. I am not pleased.
With any luck, I’ll have enough on Constance to file a formal complaint soon, but in the meantime, I’ll have to play along with her little game. “If that’s all,” I tell her.
“That’s all,” she says dismissively before turning her attention back to her desk.
Instead of saying goodbye, I bolt out of her office like I’m trying to escape a horrible smell. Finley is right, male bosses have not always treated their female employees respectfully. And while I’ve known this, I’ve not experienced what they’ve had to endure. Before now, that is. It’s sobering to get this kind of insight.
On the way to the lounge, I run into Edward Hall, a doctor I met last week. He’s a gregarious middle-aged man, who smiles when he sees me. “Dr. Culpepper, how are you enjoying life in our little town?”
“I haven’t seen much of it yet,” I tell him. “But so far, so good.” Better to sound happy to be here than to openly complain.
“I predict you’re going to love it. Anytime you’d like a tour, you let me know and I’ll be happy to show you some hotspots.”
“Hotspots? Like nightclubs?” Dr. Hall does not strike me as a man who parties.
He releases a bark of laughter. “There are no nightclubs in Elk Lake, at least that I know of.”
“What hotspots, then?”
“Fishing spots, son. I know all the best ones. Bass, pike, bluegill, walleye, and of course the mighty crappie!”
“Crappie?” This day is getting odder by the minute.
Smacking his lip together, he says, “Mild, sweet, flakey. You can’t beat the crappie, Thomas.”
“I’m not much of a fisherman,” I tell him. “In fact, I’ve never been.” And if I had, I feel that on principle I would have avoided trying to catch a crappie.
“Never been fishing?” Edward’s posture jolts like he was just on the receiving end of a cattle prod. “Well, then, we’re going to have to fix that. What mornings are you free? We should really get an early start. Five a.m. is best.”
“I’m going to have to let you know,” I tell him. “It appears I’ll be covering for Dr. Ramirez at nights for a while.”
He looks confused. “Didn’t I hear that Dr. Hammond was going to be doing that?”
I shrug in response. “That was my understanding, too, but it seems there have been some changes.”
Edward claps me on the shoulder. “You let me know if you ever want to get out of the ER game and go into private practice. I can give you some tips.”
“Don’t you work here at the hospital?” I ask. I haven’t been here long enough to get to know everyone on staff, but I see him here regularly, so I just assumed.
He shakes his head. “No, sir. I only stop in to see my patients who’ve been admitted. I like to make them feel like a friend is looking out for them.”
This is enormously kind of Edward. Traditionally, once a patient is admitted to the hospital, they’re under the care of a hospitalist and not their primary care doctor. “Your patients are lucky to have you,” I tell him.
