The Efficiency Expert

What was weird was that it hadn't even seemed a good idea at the time. Necessary, yes. Good, no.

Amy Hayes had woken up late too late to get breakfast for her after-breakfast meeting and she'd decided that after breakfast really should mean after breakfast. Her stomach had always been a good servant but a bad master-she'd always needed to eat when, well, not even when- even before she needed to eat. Despite this, she really tried not to eat fast food-at all, generally, but especially while driving.

Her fast food batting average was about .395, which was awfully damned good for baseball or softball but lousy when that meant that about .605 of your fast food purchases made contact with your clothes. This time it hadn't mattered. She was starving.

She'd been instructed to use the hospital employee parking lot and she pulled into it feeling liked she'd just hit a triple. She'd managed to wolf down an Egg McMuffin with what was supposed to pass for hashbrowns, with the dipping ketchup squirted precariously on the wrapper in her passenger seat, and all without spilling a drop.

She didn't even adjust for the fact that she'd had a light raincoat on for the drizzle that had begun before she'd left her apartment. Nope, because there was not even anything on the raincoat. This was a triple, definitely, And the rain had stopped. She smiled.

She crunched all of her trash into a ball as she locked her car and headed across the parking lot with a jubilant green-eyed smirk. As she passed an industrial waste-can, she tossed the ball of trash into the open side-door. Along with her keys.

She blinked. Twice, then lowered her chin toward her chest.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

She peered into the dumpster, saw her bag and was relieved to see a shiny, tantalizing glimpse of her keys right next to it. She gently chewed the inside of her cheek. Hospital. Trash.

She took a walk around the dumpster to make sure there were none of those biohazard stickers plastered on it. No sense fishing around and coming across needles or body parts. Nope. It was just trash. How hard could this be? She looked at the edge of the dumpster door and at her blouse and suit coat.

Okay. Desperate times, desperate measures.

She took her raincoat off and placed it over the lip of the dumpster door and reached for her keys. No dice. She jumped a bit so that the hinge of her hips met the lip of the dumpster?.stretched as far as she could. The keys were still about a half of an inch from her fingertips. She stretched again-got 'em! Got 'em and got an instant adrenaline rush when that stretch and shift in body weight nearly caused her to fall headfirst into the dumpster.

She pushed against the inside of the dumpster but her height and position made her incapable of reaching anything solid with her feet. She was very fit-and tried levering herself outward with her arms and back muscles, It didn't work. She was perfectly poised-half inside/half outside the dumpster and she realized, with a deep, weighty feeling, that she was truly and monumentally fucked.

This was how she found herself shouting, "Hello? Hello?," and hearing it echoing inside the dumpster.

After fifteen minutes, she sighed bitterly. Had it been necessary? Yes. Good idea? No.

***

Dr. Jacqueline Johnson pulled into her parking space, turned off her car and cursed her?life. She was coming off of three 12 hour shifts into one eight hour administrative shift, which was (she had to admit) entirely her fault for accepting but which she still bothered to deeply resent. She loved medicine, hated admin. Fucking meetings, fucking bureaucracy.

As she crossed the parking lot, she heard a faint?something?that sounded like it was inside a metal box.

She looked toward the sound and raised one eyebrow as she saw a pair of legs and a posterior precariously perched in her emergency room's general trash dumpster.

"Hello? Hello?"

Jac approached the dumpster and said, "Hello."

The posterior seemed to relax in relief. "Are you a woman?," the voice inside the metal said.

"Last time I checked."

"Oh thank God. I know this looks bad but could you please help me?"

Jac appraised the posterior and legs presented to her and didn't think they looked that bad at all?but?."Of course, Miss, Ms. or Mrs."

The voice inside the dumpster said, "I'm not a Mrs. and I don't really need political correctness right now. I need help!"

"Certainly. Just one thing. Do you want to be in the bin or out of it?"

If an attractive butt could actually register extreme irritation, Jacqueline realized she'd just seen it.

"OUT! I want out!"

Jac placed herself behind the woman's behind and pulled on her shoulders, extricating her fairly quickly but leaving her incredibly close to the woman who'd she'd extricated.

Jac did her usual assessment: Caucasian female. Maybe 5'4", fit, healthy. Positional skin flush. She added incredibly attractive, beautiful eyes and blonde to her internal commentary. It wasn't unusual that she would notice, she thought. She was a physician, after all.

Amy looked up, and up, at the brunette who had helped her and said four things more painfully banal and obvious than she'd ever heard come out of her mouth in any extended utterance. "Wow, you're tall! You have really blue eyes. I like your accent. Thank you."

The woman in front of her stepped away as she answered succinctly. "I am. I do. Thank you but I don't have any accent at all in New Zealand. And you're very welcome."

Trying to regain her equanimity, Amy jingled her keys in front of the doctor, "Accidentally tossed my keys in along with my trash."

Jac smiled down at her, "Well, that was an emergency and accidents are our specialty. You're in the right place."

Amy pried her raincoat from the dumpster and looked at her savior, who wore dark blue scrubs with a blindingly white coat over it. Jacqueline Johnson, MD, Emergency Medicine, was monogrammed over her heart. What wasn't monogrammed, but Amy suddenly realized, was that this woman was the Director of Emergency Medicine.

She'd heard that one of the people she'd be meeting was some asshole named Jack Johnson. Oh, fu-not Jack, Jac Johnson. Oh, she thought. Oh, sh-

Amy looked at her watch, "Oh, sh-." She had a habit of never finishing her curse words, even in her mind, so she instantly strode toward the hospital, looking back at her new acquaintance as she walked. "Dr. Johnson, I need to be in the same meeting you're going to in three minutes. Could you please point me toward the elevator when we get inside?"

"I see you've read my left breast. What's your name?"

Amy flushed scarlet, but kept walking as she offered her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm Amy Hayes."

Jac took the woman's hand and chuckled, "Ah!? Amy Hayes, PhD? So?you're the efficiency expert?"

Amy narrowed her eyes as she finished her handshake. "Not efficiency! It's quality process man-"

"Yeah, I got it," Jac said, dismissively, "Efficiency expert." She glanced back toward the parking lot and the dumpster.

Amy was angry and flustered as she entered the hospital, "I'm more efficient than I-" she said as she suddenly tripped over her own feet.

She felt a steadying hand on her shoulder, then shrugged it off. She could feel the heat of the other woman's presence. Lifting her chin, she finished, "I'm more efficient than I look."

She heard a snicker, then a gruff reply, "I guess you'd have to be, wouldn'tja?"

Amy had no idea why she felt it was appropriate to gently backhand the doctor in the stomach as they continued toward the elevator but it felt good and it made her grin.

It made the doctor behind her grin, too.

**

They rode up on the elevator together. The doctor jingled her own car keys and smiled. Amy scowled at the doctor, who looked as if she were going to dissolve into laughter. Which made Amy scowl more. Which made the doctor smile again. Which made Amy smile, too.

**
They met the hospital director, Liz Harrison, at the board room door. Amy smiled as she shook her hand, "Sorry I'm late, Liz."

Liz looked at her watch, "You're actually exactly on time."

Amy was still embarrassed, "No. I'll need about five minutes with the file I sent you for the presentation. I had a bit of an?incident in the parking lot and Dr. Johnson here was kind enough to-"

Jac quickly offered, with a shrug, "She dropped her sunglasses and they bounced under her car. These baboon arms of mine have to be good for something."

Liz frowned, "Sunglasses? In this weather?"

Jac looked at Amy and asked, all innocence, "Yeah-I didn't even think of that. What's with that, Dr. Hayes?"

Amy smiled up at her, "Sensitive eyes. Let me go get on that file."

As she passed into the room, Liz grabbed Jac by the coat. "Jackie, look, I know you're not happy about this-but it's a directive from the board." She looked up into her tall friend's eyes, "And it's just a bit presumptuous of us to think that we're perfect, you know."

"I didn't say that we're perfect, Liz-I said that-"

"Not one more word, Dr. Johnson." Liz's smile took the heat off the statement. "Just listen."

***

After Amy Hayes' presentation, it took about 25 minutes of listening to the discussion of her coworkers for Jac to lose her cool.

"Ms. Hayes," Dr. Johnson asked, more quietly than the others who had voiced their opinions, "now that we've heard your surveys and statistics, how many times have you personally been in an emergency room?"

Amy looked over the long table, the other participants, then at the doctor. "Once. I thought I'd broken my nose and I was there about seven hours, which actually underscores--"

"But you didn't break it. Your nose was fine."

"How'd you-"

Jac pounded one fist on the table, "Because your nose is perfect! It's beautiful!"
She paused for one half of one second. Okay, that wasn't the point.

She pounded her fist on the table again.

"Because I'm an emergency physician, damn it! If you had a gun-shot wound or were in a car crash-if your heart was barely beating in my hand-we're the most efficient people on the planet. If nothing's all that wrong with you, you wait. The vast majority of people in the emergency room are just fine. Don't you get that? Someone's in cardiac arrest or someone thinks she's broken her nose. Triage, Ms. Hayes. Heard of it? Time-consuming? Not very. Inefficient? No! Is it necessary? Absolutely."

Amy blinked again. Twice. "Of course I've heard of triage, Dr. Johnson. As you say, the majority of people who use your emergency facility aren't actually emergency patients, per se. I just want to make the ER experience more?efficient, if you will, for those who don't need your skills."

Jac sneered at her as she sank into her chair, "So you're saying you want to make my emergency room a happy place for people who don't need to be there at all?"

Jac felt green eyes blaze into hers as Amy replied, "No, Dr. Johnson. People don't go to the emergency room because they're happy. They go to your ER because they can't get the help they need anywhere else. I want your emergency room to work more efficiently so that you can treat the people who don't need medical pyrotechnics with compassion, dignity and proficiency. That way you will have more time and resources to devote to the people who actually do need the extremity of your skills. But, of course, if you think your service is already absolutely perfect, I'll defer to your superior judgment."

Jac, chagrined, looked down at the table and paused before she offered, "Well, if you put it like that."

She didn't even have to look to know that Liz was glaring at her. "I apologize for my presumption, Dr. Hayes. Your suggestions are actually?" Jac sighed, then said, "your suggestions are entirely valid. I'd be happy to work with you."

She turned to Liz and saw what she internally called a smile that meant, "Aw look, I love my asshole child."

After a few minutes of polite after-meeting chit-chat, Jac approached Amy. "Could I walk you to the elevator, Dr. Hayes?"

"Thank you, Dr. Johnson."

As they reached the elevator, Jac whispered, "I didn't want anything else to happen to you. Can't be too careful with the efficiency expert."

Amy whirled around, ready to kick some ass, and looked up into smiling eyes. Vibrant, smiling blue eyes.

After a few seconds she said "Yes."

"Yes?" Jac repeated.

"Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you this week. That's what you were asking, wasn't it?"

Jac blinked. Twice. "Well?of course. Yes. That was-"

Amy handed her a card. "My cell number and my address. Just tell me what day."

Jac took the card, "But-when did you-I mean, I just asked-"

"No. You asked in the elevator on the way up. I just answered you."

"Al?right. Tomorrow night? Seven?"

"I'll be ready. Casual, okay?"

They both stood and stared at each other for a few seconds. Then at the elevator doors.

Jac finally offered, "We didn't actually press a button for the elevator yet, did we?"

"No."

"Let's take the stairs, "Jac offered. "It's only three floors."

"After you."

"Of course, after me. If I go in front, I can break your fall."

Amy raised her hands toward Jac in a choking motion. "Very frackin' funny."

"Hey? You watch that show, too?"

"Of course I watch it."

As they entered the narrow stairwell, Jac actually did go first but stopped on the second landing when she felt Amy pulling her coat. "Hey Jac?"

Jac turned to face her. The fact that Amy was on the stair above her made them nearly equal in height.

"You know that part of the date-after the date-when you're wondering whether or not to-"

Amy leaned forward and kissed Jac more tenderly and sweetly than she had ever been kissed in her entire life.

As Amy broke the kiss, she whispered, "I just wanted to avoid that awkwardness. I do want you to-I do want and expect you to kiss me tomorrow night."

Jac shook her head, as if to clear it. "My God, you are efficient."

Amy shrugged, stepped around her and started down the stairs. "No. I'm an expert."