FicWad

Shaking my head in disbelief, I moved towards my desk. I knew that I wasn’t much help and knew that I was a tad unprofessional when I met Frank for the first time. What am I saying? When Gerard made “Frank” apparent, I didn’t meet him, “Frank” doesn’t exist. Well, shouldn’t exist. I looked down at my diary, seeing what client I had next. Damn, it wasn’t a client; I had a meeting with my boss.

He called it a “Progress meeting”, he said it was to check that I’m settling in at the practice but everyone knows he uses the sessions as a way of showing everyone who the top dog is. He’d sit at his desk, feet up in the centre of the desk and arms folded behind his head. I couldn’t stand him, but couldn’t help but admire his style. His cocky grin, the way he moved with ease, his confidence. They were all things I wouldn’t mind having myself.

I buried my head in my hands, exhaling a heavy groan into them. I rubbed my eyes, seeing stars as I did, just waiting for the knock on the door. My new secretary, Beth, would be rapping at the door soon enough to tell me about the appointment with Dr Pete Wentz. Beth was efficient enough, and fair play the job was always done, but sometimes she was hard to handle. It took her long enough for her to realise that she wasn’t allowed in during my sessions with patients.

There it was. The inevitable. Beth’s dainty fingers tapped the door gently, just loud enough for me to hear. I called “Come in” loudly towards the other end of the room, knowing it wouldn’t work. Nothing happened. She stood outside the door; I knew that she was worried; because the last time she barged in I gave her a piece of my mind. Quite a large piece, I regret. I shouted at her and may have called her incompetent once or twice, but that’s just not true.

I tried to apologise but it didn’t come over too well. Uttering a timid apology as she passed me files wasn’t enough but that’s what happened. A week or two ago, she knocked my door and waited, I called to her to come in but she waited outside. It’s been the same since. Honestly! The guilt’s almost enough to make me want to see a shrink myself.

I jumped up out of the chair and positively bounded towards the door. I’d previously decided that I was going to act as though I embodied the entire sun around Beth, it was the only way I’d be able to stop her shaking whenever she saw me. I swung the door open, a little too enthusiastic for my own good, and smiled broadly.

“Beth,” I grin like a pervert, I can understand why I make her nervous, I looked like an aging playboy when I smiled at her, “What can I do for you?”

“You …’ve … Go … Got … An ... A … Ap … Appointment … Uh, I mean … Meeting … With Doctor Wentz” She stuttered. She wouldn’t hold my gaze, poor girl. I must have frightened her. Well, obviously I did. I’m a psychiatrist that can’t for the life of me figure out how to rectify things. She tried to look up at me but it was merely a glance.

“Thank you Beth,” My smile faltered, “Will you remind me when my next appointment is, please”

“Umm,” She looked down at the copy of my work diary she had in her hands, “Your 4:30 cancelled, Sir, so no one else”

“Sir?” I was puzzled, “I’m only a year older than you”

“Sorry Sir, I mean, Doctor” She blushed, “Oh! Your wife called, she wanted to talk to you about … Something”

I groaned. Things had been … tricky … recently. I knew that my wife was tired because I was constantly on call and never there, I’d tried to explain that I was new to this job, I tried to explain that I was the new under dog in this medical team. She couldn’t grasp that I wasn’t in the position here to be treated with some respect. No, she thought that after two months and ten clients I should be running the practise.

I’d give her a call when I left the meeting. Oh! The meeting. I was going to be late by the time I’d ran to the other side of the building. Dr Pete was head of two departments in this hospital. He was head of the Psychiatry and Mental Health Department as well as the Radiology Department. Many people at Paradise County General Hospital thought he would fail under the pressure of running two departments, but if anything, the pressure made him more efficient and with that more effective.

He claimed that he’d decided that it was best for him to keep his office in the Radiology Department because that’s where most of his attention was needed. But that is simply not true. Everyone in every department knows that Dr Pete Wentz is popularity driven and career minded. If he’s seen with a bigger office, he assumes that he has more chance of a promotion and that means more people will respect him. Now, because of Dr Pete’s Vanity, I was late for the meeting.

Wheezing heavily, I reached his fancy office. His two secretaries sat outside, looking at me with distaste. I shot a glance of my reflection in the plaque that was nailed to my boss’s door. My hair was mussed; my cheeks were pink and an unpleasant misty liquid was dripping down my forehead.

I was about to knock the door when the younger lady spoke up, “Uh, Sir, his meeting is running a little late, would you mind taking a seat instead of disturbing him”

I could tell that she was one of those secretaries that were likely to screw her boss for a pay rise. She seemed a little defensive as I headed towards the door, protective even. Maybe somebody fancied a little rough and tumble with Doctor Pete. It’s strange to instantly know that you don’t like someone, I felt guilty for judging someone so quickly but she gave off this impression. Besides, I’m a psychiatrist, I’m allowed to judge. God, I’m such an asshole.

I did as I was told and took my seat. The older secretary sat at her desk and typed busily. She was different to the younger girl who was name-tagged “Lauren” in many ways. Firstly, she was working. Lauren sat at her desk chewing gum and filing her nails. She acted in a way I’d imagine a Barbie doll to if the doll was alive. Susan, the older woman, answered her phone calls with a professional manner and with dignity. Lauren, did not, she picked up the phone and squawked “Yeah, who’s this?”, as if she were at home.

She was easy to look at; she wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of “Vogue”. Of course, they’d have to tweak a few things. They’d have to tone down the fake tan and make sure her hair colour was a little less “Platinum”. Her fake claws, sorry, nails would have to go and be replaced by a French manicure. She would probably look quite classy if she did this but at the moment she looked little better than trailer trash at court.

Pete and his accomplice exited the room laughing. Pete shook his hand and said a hearty goodbye, “So, we’ll meet in a few weeks to see how things turn out”

“Absolutely” The suited, elderly doctor boomed. I couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing spats. Poor guy must be stuck in a nineteen twenties time warp. He must not realise that we’ve hit the twenty first century.

Pete leant over his secretary’s desk. I could just about hear him asking I’ve I’d shown up. Laurens head popped in my direction and Pete nodded in understanding. That bastard, he had to ask who I was. I know I’m new here, but Jesus, we’ve spoken at least ten times. Asshole.

“Pat … Hi” He held out his hand for me to shake, I took it, a little annoyed that he called me Pat.

“It’s Patrick, not Pat” I said firmly, knowing that he wouldn’t stop calling me Pat.

“Sure, sure come on in Pat”, He chuckled, “Sorry … Patrick”

He pointed his two fingers at me as if they were guns, and get this, he winked. That’s right, my co-worker and colleague; Dr Pete Wentz winked at me. Should I wink back? Or would that be unacceptable? He turned into his room as I stood puzzled, he’d left the door open and I could instantly see that he’d redecorated.

The place looked … What was the word? The room looked flashier. It definitely looked better than when I’d went in there last time. When I was here before it didn’t look bad, in fact, it looked great then. He had a nice mahogany desk and his certificates were up on the wall. It now looked similar but with a hint of more expense spared. The mahogany desk had definitely been waxed recently and shelves had been put up. On the shelves stood trophies, some of them were to do with medical awards he’d received in his career but most of them were sporting awards. That, in my opinion, is showing off.

“So … Pat … Pat … Pat …. How would you say things are coming along?” He grinned cheekily. He signalled for me to take a seat, these too were new. They were also leather and looked as though the hospital paid a steep price to get them.

“Uh, what do you mean?” Asking bashfully, I looked around his room once more. I could tell that he was talented at his job, evidently very intelligent and capable.

“Well, with your patient,” He looked pensive, and then broke out into a smirk, “Or should I say patients?”

“Yes, yes ,schizophrenia, very funny,” I tried to join in with the joke but if I was being honest here, I felt a little out of my depth, “He’s doing well, I haven’t prescribed anything yet but I’ve ran tests. He should be fine.”

“Right, right, good. So … How would you say you’re doing at the practise?” His face was serious, so much so he looked as if I was having a heart attack.

“I think I’m doing well here” I reply, really tempted to wink.

“Good. It’s good to establish these things. Have you had any problems here?” I was about to say that a lot of people had been burdening me with their own problems and expecting advice, but stopped myself just in time.

“No … It’s a good place to work, Sir” A little arse-licking might not hurt. He seemed to respond well, anyway. I had him tapped, I knew how he worked and I definitely knew what made him tick. I guess that’s why I became a psychiatrist. Because I read people in much the same way I read medical journals night after night.

“What patients do you have left today?” He tried to spark up some general conversation. He’d began to play with pencils that were stood in a mug that advertised a new type of medicine that some company were trying to sell him.

“None, I’m heading home after this meeting” I nodded to him.

“Well, I won’t keep you” He signalled to the door. I’d bored him already but at this awkward moment I didn’t really mind. I lifted myself up from the classy (And quite comfortable) chair and headed towards the door. Just before I’d left, Dr Wentz called to me.

“Yes, Dr?” I asked.

“Tell that lovely wife of yours I said hello”

I exited his office, a little bemused, and turned to go back to Gerard’s ward. I was going to check on him, and tell him that he could page me during the night and I’d come back to the hospital. It wouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure he’d be fine.