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Okay, that did sound as pitiful as it was. Not just because I couldn’t go a single plane ride without being recognized, or because Dr. Croft shut me down extra hard once she knew who I was. (Maybe she actually was a Tynie.)
I was smart and capable and a nice guy. I did not have to beg people to care about me. I had arrived, and this job was proof.
Dr. Adesina Okafor, my new boss, waited at the hospital information desk, the pearly white of her broad grin a sharp contrast with her dark skin. “Welcome to Beaufort, Mr. Hardcastle.”
I shook her hand. “Call me Davis,” I told her, not for the first time.
If Dr. Okafor thought the suit was over the top, she was kind enough not to say so. “We’ll get you a white coat soon enough.”
I hadn’t eavesdropped long enough to determine Dr. Croft’s specialty, but physicians like her, wherever she worked, would absolutely love a Master of Science wearing the coveted coat.
In the meantime, Dr. Okafor held out a set of keys: to my new office. She escorted me up to the Division of Urban Health on the fifth floor, and I found my bland but freshly painted office even had a window. Though the view was a nondescript building across the street, it was a step up from my previous cubicle, which my mother insisted was bleaker than her second ex-husband’s minimum-security jail cell. (I don’t know how she knew what either place looked like; it wasn’t like I’d observed Bring Your Mommy to Work Day.)
“And here is a gift we give all Beaufort new hires.” Dr. Okafor held out a gift bag.
I thanked her and accepted it. She glanced at the bag expectantly, so I obliged, pulling out a 10” tall statuette. The subject had a Founding Fathers-era wig and the musculature of a Greek god, with a tastefully draped cloth for decency’s sake. “Wow.”
“It’s David Beaufort, the university’s namesake,” Dr. Okafor explained. “The full-sized statue is in the atrium.”
That was one thing I hadn’t researched in this hiring process. I was only familiar with the name. I placed the statuette at the corner of my new desk. “Thank you.”
Once we were seated across from each other, Dr. Okafor slid a half-inch thick folder across my desk and began to review its contents, the paperwork I’d need to get through my first day: stacks of things to sign, instructions on how to access my email, payroll and office phone, enough policy paperwork to strain a solid stapler, a brief history of David Beaufort University, emergency procedures, how to find the rest of my training materials, and a parking voucher for the garage where I’d left my Bentley.
I gave a low whistle as she closed the folder again. “Guess I’d better get reading.”
Dr. Okafor laughed. “This is merely the introduction. You’ll be meeting with HR this afternoon to review this material and get your photo and badge, and you’ll have time throughout the week to finish your video training modules and departmental training.”
I’d forgotten how much you had to learn to get started at a new job.
“We’ll try to pace ourselves,” Dr. Okafor promised. “We also have the first meeting for the taskforce at ten.”
“Excellent. Who’s on the team?”
“We’re hoping to pull in someone from infectious disease.”
“Great choice.” I hadn’t worked in a hospital before, but the ID doctors we coordinated with in Napa had been sharper than a hypodermic needle.
Dr. Okafor’s agreeing nod was a little hesitant. “I’m afraid we’ve just found out this morning that the State Health Department intends to join us today.”
“This morning?” It wasn’t even 9:30.
My dismay was reflected in her grimace. “I did warn you they’ve been challenging to work with.”
“You did.” At the time I’d welcomed the challenge, but facing it now—facing the Health Department in a few minutes—made nerves buzz in my stomach. This project was the big reason I’d been hired, and I had to deliver. If I had my way, I’d be delivering more than we’d promised ahead of schedule.
Maybe I wanted to dazzle Dr. Okafor, but not just because this was my first project. I knew from experience that working hard and racking up impressive achievements were the surest path to success.
And I knew from experience that the minute those things stopped, you could be irrelevant and forgotten.
“Why don’t we go introduce you?” Dr. Okafor suggested.
I stood to show I was ready and willing, and we headed over to the Division of Infectious Disease on the same floor.
“Now, don’t let appearances deceive you,” Dr. Okafor warned me. “The Assistant Director of the Infectious Disease Fellowship Program is young, but he knows more about the subject than most of the staff here know about anythingin toto.”
Hopefully people would say something that nice about me as an assistant director. I laughed and followed her through another set of doors. She pointed out the hall of airborne isolation infection rooms, which looked state of the art at a glance, with their pressurized warnings and glass enclosures. Then she led me to the cluster of staff cubicles. Clearly this was not the highest-level lab—no hazmat suits or biosafety cabinets in sight. Dr. Okafor introduced me to the director of the division, who was exactly as old as I would have expected.
Dr. Okafor glanced around the room again. “Where—”
