• A happy boss is a tolerant boss
Image: COURTESY
Yes, I could probably get away with saying I was nuts. But it’s not an option. The bottom line is, jail is probably better than a mental hospital. Especially the ones we have here. Save for a president swinging by to visit, there’s zero appeal. And none have in recent years.
There is no way I will use the insanity plea because I’m not going to risk going nuts for real. And don’t start with the “If I go nuts, how will I know I’m nuts, I’ll be nuts after all” crap.
I have to think this through. I wish I would be left alone. The nurses are still fussing over me and making sure I’m comfortable after the to and fro with the rolling hospital bed when my boss suddenly interrupts.
“Can I have a word alone with her?” he asks them.
Hallelujah. Is he telepathic or what?
They nod and quickly exit the room. No hesitation. A man who wields authority gets his way everywhere, even a hospital. He turns to me and grabs my hand, squeezing it hard.
“Samantha, they told me how you got to be here,” he starts.
“The chopper?” I ask.
“Well, yes, but I mean the other business…. With Chris,” he says.
Why on earth would they tell him I wound up in here because I was blowing Chris? Aren’t these types of things confidential? What kind of a hospital is this? What am I supposed to say? I look away. He continues.
“I know you were going above and beyond your job description to ensure we got the contract. Money is no object for a dedicated employee like you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I respond with no expression to betray my thoughts. I keep my eyes averted. This is awkward.
He coughs slightly, pauses, then asks. “Did he sign it?”
Well, get straight to the point, why don’t you.
I nod and finally turn my eyes towards him. Elation washes over his face. He’s over the moon.
“Where is it?” he asks.
I point to the drawer where the nurse kept my things. He removes the contracts, sees the signatures and smiles.
“Great job, Samantha, great job!”
He places the contracts in his coat pocket. He can’t stop beaming. I’m in hospital with my skull bashed in, Chris has no penis and my boss cannot stop smiling. Go figure.
But since he is so darn happy, perhaps he can help keep me out of jail.
“The doctor wants me to stay overnight and I’m ok with it, so long as I don’t have to be poked and prodded anymore,” I say.
“But surely the doctor only wants what is best for you,” my boss says.
“He wants what is best for his hospital. My doctor has all my records, I will see him the moment I’m discharged,” I say. “No more tests, please, that’s my only condition.”
“I don’t know…” my boss says. “Why not call your doctor to see you in here?”
I need to change tack; my boss is raising valid points. There’s nothing to stop my doctor from seeing me in this hospital.
“I just got you one of the biggest contracts your company has ever signed. Do you want it getting out how I accomplished that?” I ask him. “The more tests they run on me in here, the more people will discuss what I have and worse, know what I was doing to Chris…”
I trail off; I can see I’m finally getting through to him. The 48 Laws of Power are clear about what you need to do to get someone to do what you want. Mercy and gratitude won’t work, only self-interest.