No longer my source of income, student loans were now my source of debt. I needed to quickly find a job. I signed up with an employment agency despite limited secretarial skills, having opted out of typing class in high school. (I’m still paying for that shortsighted decision. Like a chicken—um, rooster—I hunt and peck the computer board keys typing these words.)
Fortunately, not knowing how to type didn’t stop me from finding a job. In the early 1990s, there still was a profusion of paper, and companies needed people to help manage all that paper. Thus, my introduction to healthcare, which ultimately became my profession.
My career in healthcare focused on paper management and profit maximizing as opposed to positively impacting patient outcomes. My career began with HR support for the largest hospital in Minneapolis. With several hundred full and part-time employees, union and nonunion, licensed and nonlicensed, there was always plenty of copied paper and triplicate forms to be filed or to be found among the forest of files. The work was mindless, which was a welcome relief after years of education unrelated to my life’s earlier purpose of either ministry or teaching, aspirations whose legacy was a mountain of student debt.
I enjoyed working with the HR support ladies: Ginny, Cindy, Barbara, and LeAnne. Unique and different as individuals, they were all delightful people. Even if my working days were filled with monotonous work, they were never somber. I often made the ladies laugh, telling them about some of my crazy love stories, and they reminded me not to fly too close to the sun.
Since my job was temporary, the HR office ladies and I kept our eyes peeled for any permanent job openings I might be qualified for, given I lacked any clinical background. In an ironic twist of fate, I began a career in education. Not teaching, but administrating. Cue the world of Continuing Medical Education (CME), education designed for medical professionals to remain current in their licensure and up-to date with the latest medical research and board recommendations through offering classes and courses. The demand for CME was continuous, with always-changing healthcare guidelines and ever-emerging new therapeutic options.
I was hired as the CME assistant coordinator for the hospital, its nondescript title less multifaceted than the actual work. My role was to support the hospital’s CME coordinator, Jim.
His responsibilities had increased when the hospital earned its accreditation to offer CME directly after years of relying on other institutions to provide accreditation to their physicians. Jim required assistance to manage the reams of paper associated with the lengthy and arduous process of CME documentation.
He was a Minnesota native, pleasant and unassuming. He had the demeanor of a florist or interior designer or hair stylist. In other words, he was like me, gay. I was out, maybe
not as much as Jim, but I was truthful with the language I used to describe my life.
Our professional weekday lives never intermingled with our personal weekend lives. Jim had his life with his people and his places, and l had my own life with my people and my places. As my manager and mentor, Jim taught me the world of CME and particularly how to be an effective administrator within this unique multimillion-dollar industry. Jim left his
role after my second year, confident his apprentice was qualified to manage the hospital’s CME program.
It was around this time that hospitals and clinics across Minnesota began to merge, managing care as opposed to providing it, led by number crunchers. Trying to serve two masters and one patient, they promised to achieve better health outcomes at lower costs but achieved neither. Instead, they generated greater profits for a few, paid for by the many.
My job benefited from these changes as my employer acquired smaller hospitals and clinics. If the acquired entity didn’t have a CME program, we welcomed them and provided our services. If the acquired entity had their own CME program, we said goodbye to its administrators and consolidated their CME program into ours.
I learned in real time a new word, “synergy,” which was basically spin on the truth that an employee’s job was eliminated. I became very familiar with employing this word as I
climbed the corporate ladder.
By the time I left this job, I was responsible for overseeing and managing the organization’s CME program in a dozen locations. I also led another successful reaccreditation, continuing Jim’s successful track record. My skill for managing paper exemplary, my soul was dying of a thousand paper cuts.
Peace. God loves you.
This story is an excerpt from Finding God in Vegas: A Gen X Spiritual Awakening, available on Amazon and across all platforms in print, electronic or audio.