very professional to visualize my boss’s head exploding as I’m getting scolded, but if I don’t do that, then I’d be forced to listen to the words coming out of his mouth, along with the spittle, and then I’d get mad. I don’t want to get mad. If that were to happen, I’m not sure the result would be good for either of us.
I learned my lesson from my last job about mouthing off, so instead of telling Dr. Dickman what I really feel, I’m just going to stand here and let him pretend to have a set of balls while he yells at me for something I didn’t do, and then go back to my job and talk shit about him behind his back. “… you understand me, Isabel? This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it will be the last. Am I clear?”
Nodding, I lie, “I understand Dr. Rickman.” I wasn’t the last one who accessed the storage room, but even if I was, I know I locked it behind me. But even more, if I did accidentally leave it unlocked, a simple mention in passing or an email would be enough of a reminder. Pulling me into his office and closing the door to yell at me wasn’t necessary. He does it all the time, though. It must make him feel like a big man to berate all his female employees.
He uncrosses his long arms, and I cringe when his creepy gaze trails down the length of my body and back up, thankful I wear scrubs and not skirts and heels. “I have an appointment in an hour with a new drug rep. Don’t keep them waiting.”
“Sure.” Before he can say another word, I turn around and open the door that leads to the treatment area of the veterinary practice, and then roll my eyes at one of the techs as she’s restocking the bandage cart.
Dr. Rickman is notorious for being a ginormous asshole, and everyone knows it. He’s the owner of the clinic I’ve worked at for three years, but up until about a year and a half ago, he was rarely, if ever, here. And he still doesn’t see patients; he leaves that to the other veterinarians. It’s very strange. I don’t know what changed, but now we’re lucky if we get one day a week when he’s not here.
The entire morale of the hospital has gone down, and I’ve tried my best to keep everyone’s spirits up as much as I can, but when everyone is walking on eggshells, it’s pretty difficult. Ruling by fear never works in the long run, and he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to see a huge turnover rate. A lot of employees are already looking for another job since they can’t deal with Dr. Little Dickman—I mean Dr. Lyle Rickman—anymore.
If it wasn’t for the girls I work with and the amazing clients and patients I’ve built relationships with over the past several years, I’d leave, too. No, I will leave. Eventually. It’s not as if the money is great or the hours fabulous, but I do love my job. That’s what I tell myself at least so I don’t have to face the fact that I absolutely have to have a steady income coming in right now, and I cannot, under any circumstances, just quit.
As I reach the swinging door that separates the treatment area from the front of the building, I hear the phone ringing off the hook and several dogs barking. “Shit.” I hiss under my breath and then put a customer service smile on my face before walking back into the chaos.
Carrie and Jesse are both dealing with clients while two people wait to be checked in, and the phones are both chirping. I hurry behind the desk and answer the calls, putting them on hold, and then check in the two patients. Once I get them into rooms, I go back and help the callers while the girls finish what they were doing.
After about fifteen minutes of craziness, the hospital is silent except for a random bark and a low murmur. “Why does everyone always come in and call at the exact same time?” Jesse grabs her bright pink water bottle and unscrews the cap. “I mean, seriously, there was nobody here when you went back there.” She guzzles her water, and Carrie walks around the desk with a dry mop and pushes piles of hair into the vacuum that’s