The Vice President, Mike Pence, toured the Mayo Clinic, without a mask, in the middle of a pandemic.
When questioned by reporters as to why he was not wearing a mask in line with hospital policy, a policy that the Mayo Clinic stated that Mr. Pence was aware of in advance in a now deleted tweet, the Vice President stated that he is tested regularly as are those around him and he wanted to be able to “look people in the eye.”
Footage of Mr. Pence’s visit can be seen below.
Later that same day, a question was posed on Quora (where I spend an inordinate amount of time) that got me thinking.
Why didn’t someone in authority at the Mayo Clinic stand up and tell Mike Pence, “If you don’t wear a mask, you are not entering this hospital.” Should that person who was in charge on that day be fired for failing to protect the patients?
A fair question, but one of the reasons the question gave me pause for thought, was that I had faced a similar dilemma a couple of days earlier.
Like most veterinarians, the animal hospital I am Hospital Administrator for is operating locked down – with clients being made to wait in their cars and only patients and staff allowed in the building. In addition, all staff have their temperature taken before entering the building and wear a mask for their whole shift. That policy worked just fine, until the day a client walked into the lobby and refused to leave when asked by staff members.
I was called into the lobby by one of my front desk supervisors. When I arrived, the unmasked client was defiant and refused to leave the lobby when asked multiple times. The client was upset that her dog was sick and currently hospitalized. She felt that it was too hot for her dog to be brought out to her in her car for her to visit with, and therefore was demanding entry to see her dog. I explained that I knew nothing of the situation, and that I would be more than happy to help in whatever way I could, but none of that was going to happen until she left our lobby and returned to her car.
I have had to ask clients to leave the premises in the past, and I have even had to call police to make it happen. As I was talking to this client it was running through my head that I might have to do this again, or at least threaten to, to protect the doctors and staff. However, it was also running through my head that we had a hospitalized patient who was in the middle of treatment. Could the forced removal of a client from the building be interpreted as denial of care? It is doubtful that the client is going to continue their pet’s treatment at our hospital if the relationship breaks down to this point. What happens to the pet? Is the pet well enough for an orderly discharge? What happens if the pet dies either directly, indirectly, or just shortly after being discharged?
All of this with raised voices in the lobby, out of the blue, with no time for refection or the advice of others.
Now, as it happens, the client did return to her car and a quiet chat with the doctor, car side, resolved the immediate issue. But what if we would have called the police and had the client removed from our property, her pet discharged before being even close to well, and things had continued to deteriorate? Review and social media warfare for sure. Local news and / or regulatory involvement? Quiet possibly.
Upon reflection, I would do the same thing again and I actually feel more than ever that even if I had ended up calling the police it would still have been the right call. But I’m sure others would have disagreed. And some of those may have been people that I report to – including the staff it was my aim to protect.
I don’t run an organization anything like the size, or complexity, of the Mayo Clinic and one can’t imagine what it must be like to hold that position, in human healthcare, in the middle of a pandemic. Having a dignitary like the Vice President means national news coverage. It is the kind of publicity that public relations departments were created for. It could mean government dollars, PPE, and access; all of which are sorely needed right now.
If, of course, it goes well.
If it goes wrong, all of that could be in jeopardy and a lot more; The reputation of the Mayo Clinic in the eyes of half of the electorate, for example. As Mike Pence has stated, the risk from him is probably minimal, given the protective bubble he currently finds himself in. The example that he sets, however, is awful. It is an example of “the rules don’t apply to me” because of XYZ – much like my lobby client.
I cannot condemn the administrators at the Mayo Clinic though. Standing up to people because it is the right thing to do, can have serious consequences. Embarrassing the Vice President of the United States would have had serious consequences for the hospital, the staff, and the administrators. Being right is not always a defense from consequence. To make that kind of decision in the heat moment, is an almost impossible. And it is certainly impossible to make it and to not double guess yourself.
The issue reminds me of the incident at University Hospital in Salt Lake City where nurse Alex Wubbels was arrested for not going against a policy agreed upon between the police and the hospital. She would not provide a blood sample without the consent of the patient. The clip below shows Nurse Wubbels on the phone with the hospital administrator, and the police officer concerned, right before her arrest. The arrest of Nurse Wubbels was national news.
All decisions have consequences. In the Alex Wubbels case, the arresting officer was fired, and his supervisor was demoted two ranks. The City of Salt Lake also settled a lawsuit for half a million dollars. But this took serious guts on the part of the hospital, and of course Nurse Wubbels. It would have been so easy to bend the rules for people who you work with routinely, want and need to have a good working relationship with, and even been seen as doing the right thing in many corners.
Being right can often be a balancing act. Second guessing decisions made in the heat of the moment, particularly when confronted by authority, or just someone who is confrontational, is often unhelpful. As managers, we have to fall back on integrity and the momentary weighing of risks.
“Good morning “while waiting for the thermometer all clear.
The snatched moments of laughter – less than before, but not gone altogether.
Some days are busy, some days less so.
But the days have less form than before, less shape. Less to keep them in memory. Less to measure them by.
We can measure time in policies and protocols that have come and gone. Some that we never used at all. And some that may still need to be dusted off.
Lets hope not.
Businesses that have a healthy culture see this culture bear fruit, and weather the storms, disagreement, and fear.
Businesses that have culture problems are finding that now it is too late to try and fix it.
Crises act like a magnifier. Just what you had before only more so.
Like all situations there are rarely heroes and villains, the world is more complicated than that. There are heroic acts and acts worthy of villains.
The fractures in teams, departments, and relationships are tested. How resilient we are, depends on the history we have; good or bad.
Managers and leaders, have a new appreciation of the J.K. Rowling’s Snape; doing wrong things for the right reasons; being perceived as the bad guy, and shouldering that burden silently, when so much is about survival and the greater good.
But all of this is fine. We are okay.
In that awful phrase, over used and misunderstood; this is the new normal.
This is us digging in for the long term.
Reassuring clients over misleading headlines.
Addressing customer service issues like the old days.
Accepting praise where we can get it.
Ignoring Yelp reviews – because.. really?
Creating a social life by computer.
Valuing connections like never before.
These are people I choose to go through a pandemic with.
These are the people I will get through a pandemic with.
*Apologies to Dr. Michael “The Harry Potter Vet” Miller for appropriating his Snape analogy. You can check out Michael’s work on Instagram: @harrypottervet
It’s been ten days since we stopped allowing clients into our building.
I could not believe it today when I made an updated client blog post, you can read it here if want, that it had been ten days since the last one.
It feels like three days ago.
The days have melded together.
We are getting into our stride, and everyone is adapting.
Some genius (not me) suggested numbering our parking spots and marking them out in chalk. Someone else suggested papering basic instructions and our phone number on our windows.
But at home it all melts into one.
Again, I’m still very lucky. I’m employed and well. I have a vaguely normal schedule. I’m not on the front lines, even in the veterinary world. Its more, so much more, than many.
But I can only decompress and try to relax, or go back to work.
I’m either on or off. There is no middle ground.
It’s grief.
That’s the only word I can find for it.
Grief for the dog park.
Grief for dinner with colleagues or friends.
Grief for home projects, for which I always have had boundless energy.
Grief for Hockey, I miss my Golden Knights.
Grief for meeting with my team, usually the highlight of my working week.
Grief for my town, everyone else’s playground that I call home.
Grief for how things used to be.
I am so spoiled.
My loss is measured in an unwillingness to do vaguely productive things with my free time.
Until my friends start to get sick, as one did today.
Until my friends tell me of clinic owners wanting to cut their losses and sell.
Until my 90-year-old Mom starts off our weekly transatlantic phone call with “I’m not sick.”
Until the worry, fear, anger, frustration, boil over into words.
It’s been ten days since we stopped allowing clients into our building.
The constant planning, changing of the plan, and then changing again.
Messaging to staff and clients, much of it contradictory, from day to day.
The difficult conversations; “it’s not enough” through to “it’s too much.”
The constant conversations, decisions, and monitoring of decisions.
Getting into work first, and leaving late.
Snapping at people who are just trying to keep things light and being their normal upbeat selves. Or whom are not as quick at checking their email as you would like.
Trying to enforce social distancing.
Seeing the town I love, and I’m proud to call my home, look like it is dying.
The constant, ever present, worry about colleagues, friends, and family.
I am not ashamed to say I cried at my desk yesterday.
But I did not cry because of all of the above. I cried because I as posted that we would be cutting our hours, not letting clients into our building, and fearing, as I have for weeks, for what is to come, a client responded:
“So typical of Craig Road, they care about their patients, and pet parents. ❤️”
And what I thought about is my colleagues.
The team I work with.
The ones who have done everything they can to help prepare, implement new policies, and new cleaning regiments. Who have been dedicated to ensuring we had the basic supplies we need to be there for our patients. Who accepted daily temperature checks like is was the most normal thing in the world. Those who have had really bad days and still are at work, and want to work, to look after our clients, and our patients.
My Team.
The internal culture of workplaces can be a fragile thing. But it can also be resilient. They can even thrive in adversity. People check in on other people. Making sure that their colleagues are OK.
Making sure that I’m OK.
The stuff of nightmares, does not have to be a nightmare.
Undoubtedly, the worst is yet to come.
We will get through it.
Things will be different.
We will have changed.
But we will also have grown, and we will have our teams with us.
Mike Falconer 