knowledge of Suburban West’s financial position.
“I also know that HealthSense Insurance is giving you a four percent haircut and Unified is considering dropping you from their network. That could hurt. They make up—what? Twenty-one percent of your patients?”
Allyson was too stunned to speak. Insurance negotiations and rates were highly confidential.
“So, Allyson, you’re in a very weakened position, and my hospital is flush with cash. Unless you work magic, your days at Suburban West are definitely numbered.”
Her body deflated. “How do you know all that?”
“You know that’s a question I can’t answer. But I am here to help you.”
“How?”
“Tomorrow you will find a proposal on your desk for a management contract between White Memorial and Suburban West. You can read it if you like, but suffice it to say the terms are financially favorable for individual board members. In the end, however, White Memorial will have total control. You don’t have the balance sheet to make it and we both know it. You can string the board along for a while, sure, but they’ll see a better way forward in my proposal. So, you’re going to include me in an executive-level meeting and together we’re going to make sure you sell my proposal to your board exactly as it is written.”
“What about me?”
“There will be a transition period where you’ll share CEO duties with someone I select. When the merger’s complete, I’ll have a position open as director of support services at White that just may be right for you.”
“Are you kidding me? I run the hospital. You expect me to take a director’s position?”
“Let’s face it. You haven’t exactly done a very good job, have you? It’s probably less than six months before your board cans you, so I think you’re not in much of a position to negotiate.”
“I’m a damn fine CEO. I climbed my way to the top and worked for everything I got.”
Roman knew this was true. After Allyson’s golf career came to an abrupt and unexpected conclusion, she went to Tufts and got her MS in occupational therapy. Upon graduation she landed a job in a private rehabilitation hospital run by the owner, a neurologist. In a few years she became the director of occupational medicine, and in that capacity implemented a winning strategy for attracting patients. Allyson was so successful she was promoted to COO, where she came to the attention of an executive recruiter looking for someone with panache and cachet to help turn Suburban West from a bleeder into a success story.
“I’m not saying you didn’t work for what you got, Allyson. I’m just saying you were the right person for a time, and times have changed.”
“And what makes you so great, Romey? How is it you’re keeping so high afloat?”
Romey made a tsk-tsk noise. “Those are trade secrets, my dear. Let’s just say my board is extremely pleased with my performance because I always hit my numbers.
“Now, here’s how it is going to work, Allyson,” he continued. “You will take whatever job I tell you, and you will do whatever I tell you.”
“Please, Romey. Spare me the alpha male bravado. I can’t be played like that.”
“No? I disagree. Have a look at this.” Romey pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Allyson.
Her body shook with anger as she looked at the confidential agreement between her and the LPGA.
“If you don’t support me fully on this, Allyson, I will wait until you are fired by Suburban West—and then I’ll make sure you won’t be able to get a job selling Big Gulps at the 7-Eleven.”
Romey’s face was calm, but his interior glowed. The smell of dirty laundry always intoxicated him.
While Allyson told people she had left the tour because she wanted to pursue a career and family, the truth was far different. She had thrown several matches for a Vegas bookie who had blackmailed her with evidence of her scandalous affair with a tour director.
“I also know that HealthSense Insurance is giving you a four percent haircut and Unified is considering dropping you from their network. That could hurt. They make up—what? Twenty-one percent of your patients?”
Allyson was too stunned to speak. Insurance negotiations and rates were highly confidential.
“So, Allyson, you’re in a very weakened position, and my hospital is flush with cash. Unless you work magic, your days at Suburban West are definitely numbered.”
Her body deflated. “How do you know all that?”
“You know that’s a question I can’t answer. But I am here to help you.”
“How?”
“Tomorrow you will find a proposal on your desk for a management contract between White Memorial and Suburban West. You can read it if you like, but suffice it to say the terms are financially favorable for individual board members. In the end, however, White Memorial will have total control. You don’t have the balance sheet to make it and we both know it. You can string the board along for a while, sure, but they’ll see a better way forward in my proposal. So, you’re going to include me in an executive-level meeting and together we’re going to make sure you sell my proposal to your board exactly as it is written.”
“What about me?”
“There will be a transition period where you’ll share CEO duties with someone I select. When the merger’s complete, I’ll have a position open as director of support services at White that just may be right for you.”
“Are you kidding me? I run the hospital. You expect me to take a director’s position?”
“Let’s face it. You haven’t exactly done a very good job, have you? It’s probably less than six months before your board cans you, so I think you’re not in much of a position to negotiate.”
“I’m a damn fine CEO. I climbed my way to the top and worked for everything I got.”
Roman knew this was true. After Allyson’s golf career came to an abrupt and unexpected conclusion, she went to Tufts and got her MS in occupational therapy. Upon graduation she landed a job in a private rehabilitation hospital run by the owner, a neurologist. In a few years she became the director of occupational medicine, and in that capacity implemented a winning strategy for attracting patients. Allyson was so successful she was promoted to COO, where she came to the attention of an executive recruiter looking for someone with panache and cachet to help turn Suburban West from a bleeder into a success story.
“I’m not saying you didn’t work for what you got, Allyson. I’m just saying you were the right person for a time, and times have changed.”
“And what makes you so great, Romey? How is it you’re keeping so high afloat?”
Romey made a tsk-tsk noise. “Those are trade secrets, my dear. Let’s just say my board is extremely pleased with my performance because I always hit my numbers.
“Now, here’s how it is going to work, Allyson,” he continued. “You will take whatever job I tell you, and you will do whatever I tell you.”
“Please, Romey. Spare me the alpha male bravado. I can’t be played like that.”
“No? I disagree. Have a look at this.” Romey pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Allyson.
Her body shook with anger as she looked at the confidential agreement between her and the LPGA.
“If you don’t support me fully on this, Allyson, I will wait until you are fired by Suburban West—and then I’ll make sure you won’t be able to get a job selling Big Gulps at the 7-Eleven.”
Romey’s face was calm, but his interior glowed. The smell of dirty laundry always intoxicated him.
While Allyson told people she had left the tour because she wanted to pursue a career and family, the truth was far different. She had thrown several matches for a Vegas bookie who had blackmailed her with evidence of her scandalous affair with a tour director.
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