Just Do It

I am not a tough boss.  Really.  OK.  I’ve killed a few people.  But they were accidents!  I was only trying to scare them with the bat.  I realize no one is perfect, and I try not to go bonkers if people make mistakes.  I make mistakes.  Everyone makes mistakes.  But today I lost it a tad.

There was a kid in the RTF who had an important meeting that he is absolutely required to attend.  When I called for him, I was told he was at a medical appointment.  If he was coughing up blood, I would have asked, “How much?”  That’s how important this meeting was.

“What is his medical problem?” I asked.  “Pneumonia?  Bleeding ulcer?  Seizure?”

“Psoriasis,” the nurse said.

“He’s got a rash?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the nurse.

“A really, really  itchy rash?” I asked.

“Not really,” said the nurse.  “It was rescheduled from last week.”

“I am going to eat someone’s face,” I explained.

“Yes, I know,” said the nurse.

I found the woman who makes the appointments.  She is a perfectly nice woman, but very defensive if you correct her about anything.  Plus, I’m not always thrilled with the way she treats the boys.  She sulks with them.

“R,” I said.  “From now on when you make doctor’s appointments, please check the kids’ treatment team meeting schedules.  These meetings are important.  They determine whether kids are allowed to be here and get treatment.”

“I did,” said R.

“Then today you purposefully made an appointment at the same time as Johnny’s treatment team meeting?”

“No,” said R.  “But I checked.”

“R, no offense, but I don’t get it.  And it’s no big deal.  Just check from now on.”

R took a big breath and began to babble a nonsensical explanation.  I listened for a minute, and interrupted her.

“R.  If you had checked, the appointment wouldn’t have been made.  The meeting schedules are available a month ahead.  Just do it.”

R was working up a tizzy, “But. . .”

“R it’s OK.  No one’s mad.  But you need to do this from now on.  It’s like Nike says – Just Do It.”  I turned around and walked to my office.

“But. . .” I heard whining from behind me.

“Just do it.  Really.” I walked to my office.

Soon after, Jack walked into my room.  He had been restrained that morning.

“Jack, no more restraints,” I said firmly.  “If you want to go home for a visit, you have to be safe.”

“But. . .” said Jack.

“Jack,” I said.  I’ll tell you what I’m telling everyone today.  Just Do It.”

If my kids argue about a chore tonight, I’m well armed.