By Big M

There were only two items on this morning’s agenda. The first item was Dr James’s P.E.N.I.S, and Nurse Riley’s ‘problems’. Sister Kent was squirming, trying to get her support stockings comfortable. She’d worn support hose for most of her life, now they, and the varicose veins were the only things keeping her upright, her bones almost completely demineralised by years of smoking and drinking black coffee.

Mrs Tickle had a quizzical expression. The board members all assumed she was concentrating hard on the minutes. She was, in fact, struggling with her pelvic floor exercises. She’s become a convert after a visit to a urologist who’d threatened all sorts of surgical interventions for her pubococcygeus.

Dr James was resplendent in a brand new Sylvatex suit, K-market tie, and business shirt. He was also wearing a new cologne, ‘Links-Hyena’, also from the K-market.  It was supposed to be a real ‘turn on’ for the ladies, so he was hoping to try it out at lunchtime.

Acacia was already hard at work writing short hand. This was unusual as she was often nursing a broken acrylic nail, and unable to concentrate. The other problem was that she couldn’t read short hand.

Uva Kent poured herself a cup of thick, tarry hospital coffee, which she topped up with hospital brandy. She moved the Camel around to the corner of her mouth, so she could speak, smoke and talk, all the while in a pall of blue smoke. “Well James, now that we’ve all managed to see your penis in action, I must say, I’m appalled.”

“Appalled, why, I think that my P.E.N.I.S.  is working quite well. We’ve managed to close one ward, saving money by retrenching staff. The hospital will have saved three hundred thousand by the end of the financial year.” James was indignant.

“Saved money on paper, but spent over four hundred thou on casual RNs, and we’ve lost experienced staff to the private system, plus the litany of incident forms, complaints to the area health service, and adverse publicity in the local rag.” She glanced at Acacia’s pad, which was covered in meaningless doodles. “Hope you’re getting’ this all down, luvvy, not talkin’ too quick, are we?”

“Please refrain from berating my secretary. The matter at hand is my P.E.N.I.S, not Ms Bush’s shorthand.” James referred to the balance sheet in front of him. “I think some of the board members could do with a lesson in reading balance sheets.”

“Yes, terrific idea.” Mrs Tickle had finally relaxed her pelvic floor. “Perhaps the board could have some in-service education?”

“Tess, have another cup of tea, dear.” Uva was just a tad condescending.” Blind Freddy can see that four hundred thou minus three hundred thou is a hundred thou over budget. A bloody school kid could tell you that!” Uva stood up to pour another coffee and brandy.

Dr James smiled. Obviously old Sister Kent was confused by all of these numbers. “Clearly my P.E.N.I.S. is a great success. We’ll have that recorded in the minutes, thankyou Ms Bush.” Acacia’s doodles were becoming more flamboyant. “On to our other agenda item, which, I believe Sister Kent raised.”

Uva was ensconced in her cloud of smoke. “It’s your boy, Geoffrey. Coupla little things. One, he stinks, not just BO, he reeks. Two, he’s perpetually unshaven. Three, he’s an idiot…”

James interrupted. “Sister Kent. One, he’s not my boy. Two, his personal hygiene is not the business of the board and three, I’ll not stand by whilst you use pejorative terms to describe a staff member.”

Acacia was struggling to find a doodle to represent ’pejorative’, which was difficult, as she had no idea of what the word meant. Mrs Tickle was screwing her face up again. She was back in the ‘zone’, that is, the ‘pelvic floor zone’.

“Well James, can I suggest that you have a coupla little words in the lad’s pink, shell-like regarding his aroma, and, perhaps, while you’re with him, you can teach him how to use a razor?” Uva flicked the ash from her uniform. “Perhaps you could introduce him to your tailor and teach him how to wash and iron, given that you seemed to have mastered these so well.”

Dr James took this as a great compliment. He was proud of his sartorial taste. He had one of the highest dry-cleaning bills in the hospital. “Why, thankyou, Uva, I am pressed for time, I’m giving the opening speech at the Incontinence Forum, but will find some time this afternoon.”

“What about the other matter?” Mrs Tickle had come out of the zone. “Geoffrey’s idiocy. What can we do about that?”

“Mrs Tickle, we’ve already minuted the fact that we don’t tolerate pejorative terms. We may even need to put that as part of our Mission Statement, but, as you are asking, Geoffrey does seem to have made a bit of a nuisance of himself in obstets.”

“Pfffft”. Uva only avoided choking on another butt because she’d run out of Camels. “Nuisance, that’s a bloody understatement! Now, let’s see, The Geoffrey File Volume Two.” The document was the size of the Sydney White Pages. “…Asked one of our older mums if she was the grandmother, in spite of the fact that she was sitting up in bed, in a nightie, breast feeding the baby…tripped over the ‘Caution, Wet Floor’ only three times this week…asked one of our most esteemed obstetricians if he was the ‘old kook’ who worked with vaginas…oh, here’s a good one, didn’t notice the high level of jaundice in a baby ‘on account of it being Chinese’. The parents were Caucasian. Need I go on?”

“Clearly Geoffrey isn’t cut out for obstets. As it happens, neither am I.”  Dr James had made similar mistakes when he was on his extensive clinical experience in the hospital. “Perhaps we could transfer him to the Outpatient Clinics, just for some experience, and a little rest from shift work.”

“You’ll talk to him?” Uva was starting to slur her words; perhaps a wee bit too much ‘coffee’.

“Yes, I will, straight after lunch.” Dr James was looking forward to a visit to obstets, but not before a liberal splash of ‘Hyena’.

Geoffrey couldn’t wait to get home to tell Mum that he was being moved to the Clinic. She looked upon these moves as promotions, so would be really impressed, especially after disgracing himself at the Madis Gras. They should warn people that it’s for gays! She’d be even more impressed when he told her that the Director of Nursing, Dr James had been the one to tell him. He’d also let him in on the secret to success in nursing: washed and ironed uniforms every day, shower, shave and shampoo every day, and, the greatest secret of all, Dr James own brand of aftershave; Links-Hyena. He hurried as he had plenty of shopping to do at K-market.