by Diane Moody
We all broke down, the quiet sobs bouncing around the small room like one of those beach balls at a rock concert. This was worse than awful. This was wretched.
She continued pacing, wiping her nose, and obviously trying to compose herself. After five of the longest minutes of my life, she slowly took a seat, took a deep breath, then leveled her gaze at us. “I’m so profoundly disappointed, I’m in absolute shock here. What you don’t know—what I haven’t yet told you is that our program is in trouble. With the current economic situation, there will be a lot of employee cuts in the coming months. There are many programs a hospital simply can’t survive without. Ours is not one of them.”
We took turns looking at each other, startled by this unexpected news. Did she mean what I thought she meant? Could the hostess program be axed? Would Dr. Grieve’s pet program be on the chopping block?
I hadn’t thought things could get worse. I was so wrong.
“Right now, I can’t even begin to think how to handle this . . . this absurd situation you’ve put me in. So for now, I want you to gather your things and go home. I need you to be out of my sight, because at this moment in time, you disgust me.”
And with that, she stood up and left the office.
You might think we would’ve had a few things to say about what had just happened, but you’d be wrong. In utter silence, we gathered our purses and went home.
Chapter 21
On our drive into work on Tuesday, Sandra and I quickly discovered we had no tolerance for Rick Dees and his craziness that morning. Sandra hadn’t been part of the crowd lounging in Mindy’s prayer room yesterday, but she’d been there many times before. She felt bad for me, but nowhere near as bad as I felt about myself. My eyes were still pink and puffy from crying half the night. No amount of Maybelline seemed to disguise the misery etched on my face.
Mrs. Baker wasn’t in the office when we got there, though a half-empty cup of coffee was on her desk along with her reading glasses. We quietly made our way to the back office and put our things away. A lot of silent communication roamed the air as we went about our regular routine, getting ready to go to work. I was just thankful Mrs. B hadn’t returned by the time we left the office. The others made their way to the cafeteria as always, but I had no appetite for breakfast. I quickly hopped on the elevator to go to my floor.
When the elevator stopped at Seven, I almost got off to go see Dr. Love until I realized that’s most likely where Mrs. B was. I stepped back, thankful I hadn’t made that blunder. I made a mental note to go see him later.
On Nine, I checked in at the nurses’ station and went over the updated list of patients. Next, I stopped by to see Donnie but the respiratory therapist was there working with him. I told him I’d come back later. I made all my new patient visits and had just started my revisits when I heard myself paged.
And I knew.
Ten minutes later I entered one of the administrative conference rooms where Mrs. B, the other prayer room slackers, and the rest of the hostesses had gathered. I said a silent prayer, wondering if this might be my last day at BMH.
“Come in, Shelby. Have a seat.” After I did so, she continued. “I’ll address my opening comments to those of you I caught in the prayer room. But I’m well aware you seven aren’t the only ones who’ve been lollygagging up there, so that’s why you’re all here. As well as some announcements I need to make.
“But first, we might as well clear the air. When you seven went home yesterday, I hope you had time to think long and hard about what happened in that prayer room. I spent a lot of time in prayer over it last night. It breaks my heart, girls, to think that you have so little respect for your jobs that you would even consider doing something like that. And after a few phone calls, I’ve learned it’s hardly the first time.”
Uh oh.
“Apparently it’s become quite a routine for most of you to hide out in that prayer room. As I searched my soul last night, I tried to understand why any of you thought that would ever be an acceptable thing for you to do. Of course, there is no answer because it’s completely unacceptable. When I think about the trust and responsibility you’ve been given by this hospital and by Dr. Grieve himself, it literally makes me sick.”
She didn’t sound mad, which surprised me. She sounded resolute. Which could be very, very bad. I closed my eyes as she continued.
“That said, I suppose part of this is my fault. I gave you girls complete and total freedom to do the job you were hired to do. I’ve never checked up on you, and I’ve never asked the staff on your floors how were you doing. Why? Because I thought I could trust you.
“Clearly I was wrong. So here’s what I’ve decided to do. Starting today, I will begin a systematic routine of checking up on each and every one of you. Systematic, in that I’ll cover every floor, but you will never know when I might show up on your floor. You will never know when I might stop in a patient’s room to see if he or she has had a hostess visit. You will never know when I might have a little chat with your floor staff to see how you’ve been doing.”
Oh my goodness. I swallowed hard.
She held up her hand. “I realize by these actions, I’ll be treating you like irresponsible children instead of young adults. But let’s be honest. You give me no choice.”
“Mrs. Baker,” Debra interrupted. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry we are. I don’t think any of us got much sleep last night. We feel so badly about what’s happened.”
“I appreciate that, Debra.”
“She’s right,” Chelsea added. “It’s inexcusable. You have every reason to be ashamed of us. We’re ashamed of ourselves.”
We all murmured in agreement.
“Be that as it may,” Mrs. B said, “I have no choice but to put you all on probation. For the next month, your behavior while on the job must exceed my expectations, or I’ll be forced to let you go. As I mentioned yesterday, I’m fearful our program may soon be on the chopping block with all the upcoming budget cuts. At the very least, we may have to reduce our number of hostesses. I’m fighting as hard as I can to save your jobs—our jobs. But unless you all start stepping up and performing the job you were hired to do, then I’ll be forced to let you go long before those cuts come through.”
She looked around the room, making eye contact with each of us. Again.
I couldn’t figure out why we’d let ourselves slide back into such lazy habits. I loved my job. So why did I take it for granted? Why did any of us?
“Now, I’ve said what I had to say. But I want you to understand something. I know part of this job involves simply waiting for pages from your patients. I also understand that you can only visit your patients so many times, and if you have patients who have family members with them, then your services aren’t as needed. I really do understand that. Of course, that’s why I’ve always allowed you to remain in the office once mid-afternoon rolls around. That’s why I’ve not insisted you be present on your floors the entire time you’re here.
“As I was thinking about all of this last night, I realized we may need to make some changes. Perhaps, by having nothing to do at times, you’ve grown complacent. Some of you rush through your visits and errands in order to zip down to the office to work on your knitting or needlepoint. Or whatever. Perhaps I’m to blame for allowing such complacency.”
Why do I have the feeling things are about to change drastically in our little office?
“So I’m going to talk to Vice President Evans about the possibility of expanding our responsibilities in this hospital. I’m thinking we need to have a hostess working in the ER waiting room. In the ICU waiting room. In the surgical waiting rooms. We can add these to your responsibilities on a rotating basis.”
“Mrs. Baker, that’s a great idea,” Leila said. We all stared at her, but I have to admit, I agreed. Rather than just running errands, we could offer more assistance to those in critical situations.
“Good. I’m glad you think so. I hope you still thi
nk so when it’s your turn to work third shift or on the weekend.”
“Whoa,” Debra said below her breath. “Weekends?”
“Yes, weekends. After all, that’s when there’s the greatest need in the ER. Of course, some of you may prefer those shifts, giving you days off during the week. But we’ll sort all that out later.
“Now, one more thing. I’ve talked to Chaplain Perkins, and he’s agreed to begin meeting with us once a week. I’ve asked him to lead us in a Bible study specifically focused on our call to serve others. I think it’s time we all started taking the ministry God has given us here at Baptist more seriously. Attendance will be mandatory, and there will be homework involved. But more than anything, I hope it will give us all a fresh new perspective about our jobs and the Lord’s expectations for each and every one of us.
“Oh, and I will be meeting with each of you individually in the next few days. A little one-on-one time of sharing, if you will. I’d encourage you to do some serious thinking about your job, your service, your attitude . . . and be prepared to give me some darn good reasons why I should keep you on.”
She whisked around the table and made her way to the door. “That’s all.”
After she left, we sat there and tried to take it all in.
“Ouch?” Debra whispered.
We all laughed quietly. Actually, it wasn’t so much a “laugh” as a collective release of nerves.
“Well, at least she didn’t give us the ax,” Chelsea said. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but I think it’s a wake up call,” Mindy said. “She’s right. We’ve all gotten really lazy. I think this is going to make us better. And I’m actually kind of excited about the idea of working in the ER or the ICU, aren’t you?”
A variety of different reactions skittered around the table. Some shrugged their shoulders, some nodded in agreement, and some weren’t so excited.
“I didn’t take this job to work weekends,” Sandra piped in.
“Which is fine, Sandra, because it sounds like the ones who want to can opt for those shifts,” Leila said.
“You know, all things considered, I’m relieved,” I said. “It’s like the air has been cleared. Now we just have to regain her trust and prove to her we’re worthy of it again.”
Sandra patted me on the back. “Well said, Shelby.”
“Well, all I can say is, it’s about time.” And with that, Sarah Beth stood up and left the room.
After which, we all had a good hard laugh.
Chapter 22
“So you basically got your butt chewed, is that what you’re telling me?” Donnie rearranged the blanket covering his legs.
“Oh, yeahhh,” I groaned. “But we deserved it. Honestly, I can’t figure out why we all got so lax in our jobs. Why would we do that?”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. It happens. I remember taking our own sweet time back at Taco Barn. Remember, when business was slow how we’d sit on the back counter, munching on nachos and talking for hours?”
“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t finish closing til two or three in the morning. How stupid was that?”
“Exactly. We were young and stupid. And maybe you girls just fell back into young and stupid. It is what it is. Stop beating yourself up.”
“That reminds me, Donnie, you’ve never told me what kind of job you have. You said you were in Memphis for a meeting when you had those chest pains. What kind of meeting?”
“I’m in hotel management. I work for Holiday Inn.”
“Which explains why you were in Memphis. Their headquarters is here.”
“Smart girl. I just started in their PR department in January. I’m in the southeast division, primarily the Florida panhandle. I moved to Tallahassee right after Christmas.”
“I can’t believe I lost track of you so soon. Some friend I am.”
“Well, it goes both ways. I haven’t kept in touch with much of anyone.”
There was a sadness in his eyes which I didn’t quite understand. He caught me staring at him.
“What?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Well, I’d hope so. They just rooted around in my heart yesterday. I’d be worried if you weren’t worried.”
“No, not that. It’s just that—you’ve changed. Something’s missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
He patted my hand like I was a school girl. “And I suggest you keep those fingers to yourself or I might have to report you to that mean devil boss of yours.”
I laughed. “She’s not mean, but I’ll try to keep my fingers off you. Donnie, I’m serious. What’s going on? Besides your heart condition. What have I missed that you’re not telling me?”
He turned and looked out the window. I waited.
“Life just gets messy sometimes, Shelby. You know that.”
“You’re right. I do. But what’s messed up your life?”
“Oh, it’s just this heart thing. I wasn’t completely honest with you about it.”
“How so?”
“You remember my sister, Megan?”
“Sure. Your twin. Did you ever forgive her for choosing UT over Samford?”
He turned his gaze back to me. “She died, Shelby. Last Thanksgiving day.”
“Donnie, no . . . what happened?”
“To no one’s great surprise, Megan had the same heart defect I have, only it affected her much worse. Three days before Thanksgiving, she had a massive heart attack while at work. They did the same bypass surgery I just had yesterday.” His face crumbled. “Only she didn’t make it.”
I grabbed his hand and held it tight as he wept. I couldn’t believe it. Beautiful Megan. So young and full of life. She’d often visited her brother when we were at Samford, and we loved having her around. She was every bit the comedian he was, maybe even more so. The two of them together kept us entertained with a whole repertoire of outrageously funny routines they’d performed for years.
“I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe it. She was so young . . .”
“Much too young,” he whispered, his voice husky.
“No wonder you were so scared before your surgery. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He wiped his tears. “I couldn’t talk about it. I was quite sure I wouldn’t survive the surgery either. I told you I was terrified, but that didn’t come close to what I was feeling. Losing Megan was like losing part of myself. I can’t seem to get beyond it, to let her go.”
“But Donnie—”
“And I can’t forgive God for taking her.”
I stopped, clamping my mouth shut. Now it all made sense. I’m not into the whole God thing much anymore, he’d said. He blamed God for not saving Megan’s life.
“All my life I’d been told how great and loving God was,” he said quietly. “How He answered our prayers. All those years of believing everything I heard, believing it all to be true. All those mission trips, telling people how to trust Him and believe in Him. Leading worship songs proclaiming how awesome He was and how He hears the prayers of those who called Him Father. Yeah, well, where was He when I needed Him? When I begged Him to save my sister?”
“But surely you know—”
“No, Shelby!” Tears coursed down his face. “Surely I don’t know. All I know is when I trusted Him to keep His promise, He wasn’t there. He was silent. Deadly silent. When I needed Him most, He was nowhere to be found. And there’s no way you can sit there with all those Christianese platitudes we all used to spew out to anyone who would listen and tell me He’s real. He’s not real. It’s all a big joke, Shelby. One big, ridiculously pathetic joke.”
I wiped my eyes, trying to think what to say. All those answers on the tip of my tongue were the exact ones he was talking about. Platitudes? Surely they were more than just words. I’d had my doubts along the way. Doesn’t everyone? When I found out Will had deceived me, it shook my faith hard. But that was more about trusting in other people than my faith
in God. Still, I hadn’t walked in Donnie’s shoes. There wasn’t a single word I could say in this moment that wouldn’t sound like a platitude, regardless of how sincerely I meant it.
I reached for his hand and wrapped it in mine. God, help me here. Want can I say? What would You say?
And before the thought had even passed through my mind, I knew.
“I love you, Donnie. I don’t know anything else to say. But I love you.”
He reached for a Kleenex and blew his nose hard, grabbed another one and wiped the tears from his face.
“You sure about that?” he sniffed, his eyes still leaky. “Even if I’m a God-forsaken heathen?” he mimicked, using his best TV evangelist voice.
I matched his mimic. “Even if you’re a God-forsaken, wretched, pond-scum of a worm heathen—can I have an amen, brother?” I rasped. “Even then, I’ll always love you.”
He waved me toward him and I gave him a smothering hug ending with a wet, slobbery kiss on his cheek.
“I love you too, Shelby.”
I stood back up and dashed away the tear tracks on my face. “How much longer will you be here? Have they told you yet?”
“No, not yet. The doctors want to run more tests. And there’s some specialist from Vanderbilt that’s coming in tomorrow to talk to me. Maybe they’ll do exploratory surgery on my sad little thumper or put me on the heart transplant list.”
“Isn’t that still rather experimental?”
“Well, yeah, but what are my options? I can’t lie in this bed forever.”
I pursed my lips and glared at him. “I don’t know, but maybe I’ll do some research.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. I’ll rest so much easier knowing you’re digging into your Junior Encyclopedia Britannica. Just remember, it’s spelled h-e-a-r-t.”
“Oh, gee, Donnie. Thanks. And all this time I thought you spelled it c-r-e-e-p.”
“Go. Leave me. You’re giving me heartburn in what’s left of my aching heart.”
I turned to go. “Yeah? And how do you spell that—g-a-s?”
I ducked as he threw his empty barf tray at me. It hit the door and clattered onto the floor. I peeked back in and blew him a kiss.
