The chest pounding and brow beating goes on. The medical center employees accepted a contract and important people are still talking about lay-offs. Physicians are pushing forward to try to fix clinic scheduling and develop programs to manage chronic illnesses, but no one is reaching out to staff to move on and move forward. Come on guys, if you don’t want to “charm and disarm”, just shut up.
The one truly multidisciplinary program in the hospital got offed, the part-time program specialist for the department of diversity affairs got canned (Cambio probably needed the cash for executive salaries). Diversity is dead, but we still have the “pink book” to train us on cultural sensitivity (it has a long section on the Amish, but doesn’t cover African Americans.) Many employees find it amusing, but no one has ever described it as useful.
As another morale raiser, the Sheriffs escorted a patient through the hospital at peak visiting hours with a loaded shotgun. They forgot to tell nursing they’d be heavily armed and when a social worker asked what was going on, he was told it was, “none of his business.” Discharging a shotgun on a crowded nursing floor could easily result in a buttock full of buckshot for social workers, nurses, other patients, and their guests. Many employees feel the our new VP of marketing will have a hard time marketing “Bright Birthing Beginnings” at Highland, if we have Sheriffs wandering around with loaded shotguns, but hey, what do they know, they’re just the hired help.
What, what, what is to be done? My thoughts exactly as I headed to Two Star Liquor for a six pack of Bud (to wash down my McNuggets.) As I headed back to my car, I passed Full Moon Seafood House. At night diners look like fish in an aquarium and someone caught my eye. At a table for six sat: Nate Miley (county sup), Floyd Huen (authority board trustee), Jean Quan (Floyd’s wife and Oakland city council woman) and a couple of other political hacks that I couldn’t readily identify. Undoubtedly they were discussing the same dilemma as I: what, what, what is to be done? They looked far more miserable than I felt, I briefly considered crashing their party, but my McNuggett’s were getting cold and my Bud was getting warm. Besides, I have two lovely kids at home, and an evening with dyspeptic politicians isn’t my idea of fun. So I went home to discuss the situation with my family. My advice is not original; in the words of Tinkie-Winkie, Dipsie, La La and Poe (the Teletubbies) it’s a good time for a “Big Hug.”