(It was Spring 1982. How do I remember that? It’s about my Son when he was a baby. He was born with an allergy to milk. Normal formulas caused him to break out in terrible rashes and other things. Pediatrician said he could only have Isomil. The first of many life challenges he's faced, overcome, and learned from.)
My employer, Saint Anthony Hospital, had bought an old elementary school a few blocks from the hospital and was converting it to a daycare/childcare center. St. A’s, and its CEO, E.V. (“Dutch”) Kuhlman, were ahead of their time in many areas over the years. For a great example try: Wikipedia: Flight for Life. Read the "History" paragraph.
Anyway, Kuhlman had installed his newly minted Ph.D. daughter, Carla, as Director. And with my wife's maternity leave ending, and me having to keep working, my little guy was one of the first enrollees.
When we registered him, we provided physician’s info and a case of Isomil, with his name on it. All went fine for awhile until I came to pick him up one day and he was lying in a crib with a bottle of milk. I told the attendant he could only have Isomil, and she apologized. That was fine until I found him that way for the third time, and I proceeded to express my feelings loudly.
Carla came running out of her office and began with a condescending “Bill, Bill, Bill”…. (To this day the hair on my neck goes up if anyone addresses me like that.) After some “discussion”, she proceeded to tell me that my problem wasn’t the bottle issue, but with being separated from my new son. I was suffering from “separation anxiety” and she’d be happy to recommend someone for me to talk with.
Without much thought, my immediate response was, “Carla… you can have all the degrees in the world and it won’t make you smart.” With that, I picked up my Son, all of his accessories, and left.
I was tempted to go back and tell her that such issues could bring legal and regulatory challenges to St. Anthony's, to say nothing of a childcare facility's reputation, but I didn't get to it.
As expected, the next day my office phone rang and it was Pam Myer, Kuhlman’s secretary, “he wants to see you now.... and shut the door.”
When I entered the outer office, she didn’t even look up, just waved me through. I walked in, shut the door, and sat down.
He was reading something and didn’t look up for what seemed like a long time. Finally he looked up, took off his reading glasses, put his cigarette in the ashtray, looked at me with a stern expression and said, “Did you really say that to her?”
I responded, “Yes… yes I did.”
He leaned back, looked at me directly for a few seconds, and said, “It’s about goddamned time somebody did.”
He stood up, smiled at me, shook my hand, and said, “now get the fuck out of here and back to whatever you were doing. I'll deal with her.”
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Dutch & I became closer and, when I left to move to HCA, he told me that I could come back any time, I was someone he could trust. We stayed in touch after his retirement. When he was terminally ill, we visited and when he died I stayed in touch with his wife. Funny aside is that Carla and I later became friends on Facebook and stay in touch to this day. She became a lifelong learner.
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