Chapter 45 – Managing Up
"I'm looking forward to you officially joining," Ethan said.
"Even if that day is still a bit far off."
"Yeah," Mary replied. "But at least we're moving in the right direction."
Ethan nodded, then made a solemn promise:
"Work hard! When you come back, I'll organize a proper onboarding welcome party for the entire clinic."
Mary tilted her head, amused.
"Entire clinic? Isn't that just you and me?"
"Too small-minded," Ethan said confidently, already slipping into visionary mode as he began outlining his master plan to Employee No. 2.
"This is just the startup phase.
First, we save a few rich patients, secure our first pot of gold, buy out the space next door, and turn it into a recovery center.
Then we pre-sell memberships to New York's elite—annual fees of one hundred million, only one hundred slots, treatment fees charged separately.
Next, we establish the Rayne Medical Group.
Politicians want treatment? They give us tax exemptions and land.
Business tycoons want in? They donate buildings and cash.
And finally, we monopolize the entire medical industry—free healing for everyone.
If one year isn't enough, then two. If two isn't enough, then three.
From cancer and AIDS down to the common cold and paper cuts—we're everywhere.
And at that point… ahem… we can finally begin world peace."
"???!!!"
Mary listened patiently. The first sentence sounded reasonable.
The second already felt unhinged.
She didn't bother taking it seriously.
"Alright," she said calmly.
"I'll focus on getting my license first—and then I'll do my tiny part for your world peace project."
---
They shared a laugh and fell silent for a few seconds.
When Mary looked up at Ethan again, there was something different in her eyes.
"Alright," she said.
"Since the contract is signed, I think it's time we start discussing some operational improvements for the clinic."
Ethan had barely finished blowing his own horn, still riding that hot-blooded rush of self-importance, when he noticed Mary sit up straight—clearly preparing to manage upward.
"First," Mary said without preamble,
"I suggest the clinic open evening hours."
"I've reviewed local ER intake data and the operating hours of nearby small clinics. After 7 p.m., aside from hospital emergency rooms, residents have almost no reliable or affordable medical options.
If we don't open, patients either wait in line for hours—or grit their teeth and endure it until the next day."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Evening hours? Mary, do you know why I don't do night shifts?
Because I don't want to spend twenty-four hours a day here dealing with drunk idiots who sliced their fingers, or people who think they're dying when they're actually just uncomfortably full."
"We don't need to be open all night," Mary replied calmly.
"Just until 10 p.m. That alone would help the majority of people—especially those who genuinely need urgent care but can't afford hospital bills."
She pressed on, backing it with data.
"Based on what I've collected, nighttime ER visits are dominated by mild to moderate trauma, infections, and acute pain—exactly the kinds of cases our clinic can handle efficiently.
We don't even need to open every night. We can start with Tuesdays and Thursdays, closing at 10 p.m., just as a trial."
Ethan stared at her, suddenly feeling like she was the boss—
a boss expertly PUA-ing him into more work.
"Two nights a week? Do you know what that means?
It means sacrificing precious evenings to deal with trivial nonsense! And what about daytime operations the next day?"
"Shift adjustments," Mary replied coolly.
"At least in the early stage, when staffing is limited, it would just be the two of us rotating. Whoever works the night shift comes in late the next morning."
Then she added, casually:
"And the contract clearly states that once the clinic offers evening services, all licensed practitioners are required to participate in the rotation. Including you, boss."
Ethan froze.
"Wait—when was that written in? Why didn't you point it out earlier?"
"I forgot to mention it," Mary said evenly.
"I'm mentioning it now."
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it.
He had just realized something terrifying:
he'd signed a contract where a new employee could not only work overtime—but drag the boss into it as well.
Was that even legal?
Could an employment contract dictate clinic operating hours?
He made a mental note to reread every single clause later.
After finishing the night-clinic topic, Mary paused, her tone shifting slightly.
"There's one more thing… something I've been wondering about.
About some of the… unusual cases you handled before."
Ethan kept his expression neutral.
"Oh? Which ones?"
"For example, patients with deep abdominal wounds who walked out shortly after suturing," she said carefully, her eyes probing.
"Were those really just… standard treatments?
I looked into it afterward. That level of recovery seems… beyond conventional medicine.
Especially in my case."
Ethan went quiet for a few seconds, his mind racing.
Then he chose a vague—but plausible—answer.
"Every doctor has their own techniques," he said slowly,
"and some methods that aren't widely recognized yet. Results vary from person to person, which is why I don't use them often or publicize them.
It avoids unnecessary trouble."
He looked at her directly.
"You understand what I'm saying, right?"
"So," Mary asked softly,
"those things really happened—because you did something."
Ethan hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes."
Mary studied him for a moment, weighing something internally.
In the end, she nodded and didn't press further.
"One last thing," she said, taking a breath.
"A personal request.
Could we add a clause to the contract providing medical coverage for full-time staff and their immediate family members?
My grandmother is elderly. She has multiple chronic conditions requiring long-term medication and follow-ups. Some of them aren't curable."
She paused, then added quietly:
"If possible, I'd also like you to use your… unique treatment methods. The costs can be deducted from my salary."
This time, Ethan didn't hesitate.
Employee healthcare was standard practice. In many organizations, family members were included as well.
If it came to using holy light—he'd just charge normally and give an employee discount.
"That's reasonable," he said, nodding.
"Thank you," Mary said sincerely—then immediately returned to business mode.
"So, about the evening clinic—"
Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples.
Competent employees were a blessing.
Too many ideas, however, required active management.
"Fine. We'll consider evening hours," he said at last.
"But not until after you officially join."
A perfect delay tactic. One year later was a problem for future Ethan.
"Also," he added firmly,
"all unofficial 'cosmetic optimization' services—at the clinic or through you—must stop immediately."
Mary froze.
"All of them? That's a significant revenue source."
She'd even planned to do a few on the side during her hospital training year.
"High profit, massive risk," Ethan said flatly.
"These gray-area procedures have to go. We're running a legitimate clinic, not a black-market aesthetic studio.
You want this place to be proper. So do I. On this, we're aligned.
And during your residency, you'll earn tens of thousands a year—more than enough for living expenses. If it's not, the clinic can advance you some funds."
Mary thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I agree. I'll wrap all of that up within the week."
With everything settled, she picked up her bag and headed for the door.
Before leaving, she glanced back at the sun-filled clinic.
"Boss—good luck.
See you in a year."