Not My Friend

Chapter 4 Gina

Gina

“Gina, can I see you in my office please?”

For a second I had a flash of fear. Was I in trouble?

No matter how long I’d worked for Allison, I still got nervous when she called me into the office unexpectedly.

Nothing bad had ever happened, but I had a little bit of PTSD from other jobs and other bosses who weren’t as supportive as my current one was. It was something I was working on.

“Sure thing, boss.”

I closed out the electronic case note I was working on and followed my boss Allison into her office.

“I just wanted to let you know that the state’s coming in to do a complete audit on the Sunrise program. I just got an email about it.”

I winced. “When are they coming?”

“May twelfth.”

“That’s three weeks from now,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s typical of those dipshits at the state. They figure we have nothing better to do than drop everything for one of their multi-day site visits. I mean, I know they fund a large percentage of the program, but a little more notice would be nice.”

“What do you need from me?” I asked.

“As the program director, you’ll be the co-lead on the site visit, working with Rochelle from Quality Assurance. I know this is your first state audit, so I’d like to make sure you’re prepared for the process.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I said gratefully. “I helped prepare files and had a couple of interviews with auditors at my last job, but the program director was on point, not me. And none of them had state funding, just county.”

“I’ll ask my assistant to set up some meetings with you and me and Rochelle to plan, but in the meantime I’m sending you both the list of files and documents that they want to review as well as the policies and procedures they’re asking for,” Allison said.

“The most important thing to remember about talking to auditors is that it’s just like talking with the police – only answer what you’re asked, be as succinct as possible, and never volunteer any additional information. ”

“Got it.”

“Don’t stress too much about it,” my boss said. “Audits are a necessary evil, and they will never leave here without finding at least something to ding us on, but you run a tight ship, and I have no doubt all your files are in order.”

“Thank you.”

I appreciated her kind words. More than one staff person had complained about my strict expectations for documentation. Social workers were notoriously bad about collecting data and documenting interactions.

I headed back to my desk, quickly skimming the email that Allison sent with the details.

I recognized all the client names of course.

I had weekly meetings with the case managers who worked with me where we staffed each of their cases, brainstormed solutions to any problems they were having, and checked in to see how the case managers themselves were doing.

We tried to hire people who had lived experience with some of the challenges that our clients faced, including homelessness, domestic violence, and generational trauma.

While it made them good case workers, it also made them susceptible to vicarious trauma if they didn’t incorporate techniques to manage it effectively.

The Sunrise program was my baby. I’d built it from scratch.

Three years ago I was in a very dark period.

About a week after going through a very hard breakup with the person who I thought was the love of my life, a funder declined to renew the grant that paid for my position at a nonprofit serving homeless youth, causing the entire program to close.

Suddenly I was single, heartbroken, unemployed, and broke.

It was my former coworker Miranda who introduced me to Allison.

They knew each other socially, and she’d heard that the nonprofit Allison worked for was starting a new program helping women with children leave homelessness and rebuild their lives.

I had an informational meeting with Allison, and my boss hired me as the program manager before she even opened the position.

Between my extensive experience working with homeless populations, my master’s in social work administration, and my multiple certifications, Allison figured I’d be the perfect person to get the new program started. I tried every day to live up to her confidence in me.

“I don’t have time to hold anyone’s hand,” she’d told me when she offered me the job. “I’ll provide whatever support you need, but I need a go-getter, someone who comes with solutions not problems, and someone who knows the systems and what clients need.”

I assured her that I was that person, and I’d built an excellent program here, one that was changing women’s lives for the better. Hopefully, the state people would see that too.

Three weeks later I arrived to work early, wearing my most professional outfit – a pencil skirt with a matching blazer.

It was my job interview outfit, uncomfortable as hell, but I knew I looked good in it.

I’d paired it with chunky heeled Mary Janes and a new white blouse I’d picked up at a thrift shop – a lucky find given that the tags were still on.

I’d pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and taken the time to apply mascara and lip gloss, something I rarely did.

“Whoa, you look different. Like nice.”

Rochelle, our agency Quality Assurance Manager, greeted me in the hallway.

I didn’t know her well, but I liked her.

We’d had lunch together a couple of times and gone out as part of a larger group once or twice.

She had a dry sense of humor and always had a bowl of candy at her desk, which made her more popular than most quality assurance people were.

“I usually dress down a bit, so I don’t intimidate the clients,” I explained.

Seeing people in business attire was a trigger for the population we worked with, many of whom had a history of bad experiences with institutions where people dressed up more, like lawyers, child abuse investigators, or doctors.

Wearing more casual attire prevented the inevitable accusation that we thought we were better than the clients.

“But I thought I should dress up for the auditors. Is it too much?”

“You look great, very professional,” Rochelle reassured me with a smile. “Don’t be nervous. I’ve reviewed all the files myself and they’re in great shape. This audit should go pretty smoothly, knock on wood.”

She rapped her knuckles on the door frame next to her.

“I just don’t want to mess anything up,” I confessed. “This program means a lot to our clients, and to me.”

“You’re one of the most organized managers I’ve worked with,” Rochelle said. “You make my job easier by staying on top of your team’s documentation. You’re gonna rock this audit, I promise. Besides…”

“Rochelle, Gina.”

Our boss’s voice interrupted whatever Rochelle was going to say.

“The auditors are here for the leadership interview. Are you two ready?”

The first hour of the day was going to be the auditors interviewing Allison and our Chief Financial Officer Erin, then Rochelle and I would take over and cover the rest of their multi-day visit.

As we followed Allison to our ‘nice’ conference room – the one where the tables and chairs all matched and the ceiling didn’t leak – I gave myself a little pep talk.

You’ve got this, Gina, I told myself, practicing the positive self-talk I’d learned in therapy.

Your program is changing people’s lives and you’re in compliance with all the contract requirements.

Everything is going to go well. The state just wants to make sure we’re using their funds according to the contract.

You are strong and confident and can handle anything these auditors throw at you.

I walked into the room, setting my notebook on the table and reached out a hand to greet the auditors.

“Good morning, I’m…”

The words died in my throat as I got a good look at one of the state employees on the other side of the table.

She was tall but curvy, with long, curly brown hair, light brown skin, and a mouth that was just a little too big for her face.

A mouth I knew well. I looked into deep brown eyes that I knew contained flecks of gold, and my mouth dropped open in shock.

Shit. One of the auditors was Kimberly Hernandez. My ex-girlfriend. The only woman I’d ever loved.

I had a flash of my past self screaming at her and calling her a cheater while I chucked her belongings out the window onto the grass, the neighbors watching like it was a particularly amusing telenovela.

Kimberly hated me. Not that I blamed her. And judging by the cold look she was shooting me, she hadn’t changed her opinion of me in the three years since we broke up.

This audit was fucked. And so was I.