Ch. 9 – Prem
P rem walked into the small office. His office, he corrected himself. Layla had followed through on her promise. The room was now empty, save for the worn bookshelf, weathered desk, chair, and computer. Prem nodded to himself and set a Bankers Box on the desk.
Morning sunlight poured through the windows, and Prem allowed himself one lingering moment to appreciate what he’d accomplished.
His office.
His practice.
His dream. None of it would be easy, but he’d never been afraid of a little work.
Moment over.
Prem dug into the box and pulled out his framed Doctor of Veterinary Medicine diploma. Turning to the wall, he noted the clear outline in the sun-bleached paint where Dr. Goldman’s DVM had hung for over 30 years. Prem studied the room, shrugged to himself, and used the embedded screw to hang his diploma in the same spot.
He pulled a few medical textbooks from his box and slid them onto the top shelf of the bookcase. Next out came his lunch, a brown bag containing yogurt, an apple, and a microwavable pouch of dahl. Next, he lifted a small framed photo from the box.
Prem studied the photo of his graduation ceremony. He stood in the center of the photo, flanked by his parents. On his left side, his mother wore an emerald green sari and a stern expression. On his right, his father squinted, seemingly irritated, into the sun. Prem felt the absence of Jai in the picture. His older brother had skipped the ceremony to keep things from becoming awkward for their parents. Instead, he’d bought Prem too many beers later that night at a loud, raucous pool hall in the city.
While his fellow graduates had no doubt celebrated at fancy restaurants or in swanky homes, he’d beaten his brother’s ass at pool and fended off Jai’s attempts to drag him onto the karaoke stage to sing “Endless Love.” Jai, undeterred, had performed both parts of the song himself, breaking into a wobbly falsetto that had earned cheers across the bar.
Smiling at the memory, Prem removed the final item from the box. Carefully, he placed the delicate horse figurine next to the computer. The brown-painted glass horse stood tall, its head raised.
He’d have to order a new desk. Definitely a new chair. He eyed the ancient, boxy computer. New desktop computer as well, he added to his mental list.
Prem sighed. The cost of new office furniture and equipment was minuscule compared to the price of the new veterinary equipment he planned to bring into the clinic. Still, it all added up. Just the thought of the price tag for the new EO sterilizer he’d just purchased made his stomach hurt.
The sterilizer, along with an incubator and ventilator were all necessary to bring the practice into the 21st century, but it didn’t make signing the checks any easier.
Prem sunk into the chair, frowning as it squeaked in protest. He shifted, surprised by the comfort the ancient chair offered. As he leaned forward and reached to turn on the computer, he paused as he noticed a Post-it note stuck to the side of the computer.
Welcome, Dr. Dhawan! the note read . A heart encased the words, the letters written in a clear, looping cursive.
Layla.
Prem smiled.
Something else caught his attention. Tucked on the other side of the computer monitor sat a blocky daily calendar. Prem vaguely remembered it on the cluttered desk from his first visit to the office. All the old sheets had been swept away from the desk, but Layla had left the calendar itself behind.
Prem picked it up and studied the bizarre picture of an overweight tuxedo cat sprawled on its back with its tongue sticking out. In small letters, printed on the bottom of the page was the calendar’s title.
He read it out loud, “Animals Being Derps.”
Layla.
Prem snickered as he set the calendar down. Leaning back in the chair, he imagined Layla’s gorgeous smile as she stuck the note on his computer and pulled the pages off the calendar to bring it up to date. His pulse picked up. He touched the Post-it note, his finger tracing the heart around the words.
He snatched back his hand. What the hell was he doing?
Prem shook his head. Focus! He ordered himself. He only had an hour until his employees arrived for their orientation. It was going to be a difficult meeting, and he had to prepare. Today was the first day of the new and improved All Paws and Claws vet clinic.
Layla had helpfully left a pad of Post-it notes on the desk, along with several pens. Prem dragged the pad toward himself and uncapped a pen. In quick, decisive strokes, he wrote out his mantra.
Don’t wish for it. Work for it.
He reached to pull down Layla’s welcome note but paused. After a moment of indecision, he stuck his note above hers on the computer monitor.
*
A few minutes past 9 AM, Prem stood at the front of the clinic’s small break room and prepared to usher in a new era at All Paws and Claws. Three women sat before him.
Though Prem had only met one of his employees, he felt like he already knew them through Mrs. Goldman’s descriptions. Kate wore her steel gray hair in a no-nonsense bun and stared at him with a hard, skeptical gaze.
Efficient, Mrs. Goldman had described her. Reliable. Incredibly knowledgeable. Stern.
Next to Kate, Deja twisted her hands in her lap and tapped a foot in an erratic staccato. Her dark hair, pulled into a ponytail, floated behind her head like a cloud. She’d raced through the front door five minutes late, still sliding lipstick onto her lips. Prem noted a dried Cheerio stuck to the sleeve of her shirt.
Sweet. Kind. Highly motivated, Mrs. Goldman had said of Deja. A little scattered. But a hard worker.
And then there was Layla. The young woman hunching in her seat at the back of the room avoiding his gaze was a pale imitation of the person he’d met yesterday. Today, her blue eyes were sunken beneath swollen lids. Her golden braid was sloppy and crooked. Curling wisps of escaped gold framed her tired face. Even Layla’s outfit, a white blouse and washed-out jeans, seemed to have lost all color.
What had happened to her in the last 24 hours? Prem’s heart squeezed. He wanted to go to her. Sweep her up in his arms. Protect her from whatever this garbage world had done to her.
But those were crazy, idiotic thoughts.
Layla folded her hands in her lap, and the huge diamond on her ring finger winked in the light. See, Prem chided himself. She already has someone to protect her. Though, whoever he was, he seemed to be doing a shit job of it.
Prem shook his head as if that could somehow dislodge the electric, confusing feelings he held for his receptionist.
The women waited.
Prem cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming in today on this Friday morning. First, let me say how sorry I am about the loss of Dr. Goldman. I didn’t know him, but even in my short time here, I’ve heard so many good things about him. He seemed like an amazing person, a pillar of the community.”
Deja and Layla nodded. If possible, Kate crossed her arms harder.
Prem resisted the urge to wipe his sweaty hands on the sides of his slacks. “I know I can’t replace Dr. Goldman. I’m not going to try. What I can do is continue his legacy of providing great care to the animals and people of this community. I’m going to need your help to do that.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Dr. Prem Dhawan. I completed my DVM at UC Davis and performed an exotic pet rotation at the Southern California Emergency Veterinary Hospital. I most recently worked at the Veterinary Specialty Hospital of North County. This will be my first time helming a private veterinary practice, and I’m excited about the possibilities.”
He paused for a breath. Deja smiled at him uncertainly. Layla’s gaze seemed to go right through him, like she was a million miles away. Kate let out a short grunt.
Prem licked his lips. “My goal is to make this clinic a success. I hope that’s your goal as well. That means certain things are going to have to change.”
“Change how?” Kate asked, her voice low and blunt.
Prem forced himself to stand up a little straighter. “Dr. Goldman’s management practices were…let’s say, unusual. I plan to run a tighter ship. First, we’ll be updating our pricing structure to match industry standards for this area. That’s going to result in higher prices for most of our services.”
Deja’s smile faltered.
“What if our clients can’t afford the higher prices?” Kate demanded.
“Good question.” Prem met her fierce gaze and held it. “Our clinic will be partnering with a loan servicer who specializes in providing loans for pet healthcare. If clients can’t afford treatment, we’ll be able to offer a range of financing options. A rep from the company will be visiting next week to provide all of you with training.”
“Loans?” Kate was dubious. Offended, even. “A lot of our clients are on a fixed income. They won’t be able to afford loan payments.”
Prem set his jaw. Denying care was absolutely the worst fucking part of any vet’s job. But it was a reality.
“We’re a business, not a charity,” he told his employees. “If we don’t make a profit, we can’t help anyone. It’s up to each client to decide what treatment is best for their pet. All we can do is provide as many options as possible.”
Kate muttered something under her breath. Deja’s face held a look of horror. Prem sucked in his cheeks. Might as well keep ripping off the Band-Aids.
“I’ll also be scaling back the Friends and Family Discount from 15% to 10%. And from now on, it will only be applied to immediate family members.”
“Bet he doesn’t even have friends,” Kate whispered to Deja just loud enough for Prem to hear.
He tightened his spine a little more. “I’ll also be extending the clinic’s hours to 8 AM to 7 PM during the week and from 8 AM to noon on Saturdays.”
“Saturdays!” Deja’s eyes went round. “We have to work on the weekend?”
“We need to cater to the availability of our clients,” Prem explained. “That means being open outside of normal business hours.”
“You expect us to work all those hours?” Kate scoffed.
“Actually, no,” Prem told her. “I’ve reviewed appointment and scheduling data from the last year, and I simply can’t justify having two veterinary technicians working at the same time.” He eyed Kate and Deja. “One of you will cover the morning shift, and the other will cover the afternoon shift. You’ll each have to work two Saturdays a month. Things will be a little busier at the clinic with only one vet tech on hand, so you’ll have to work harder, but I’m confident we can all handle it.”
Deja’s eyes grew wider and wider. “How many hours will we get a week? We’ll still be on salary, right?”
Prem shook his head. “Based on our current client traffic, you’ll each get 30 hours a week. I’ll be switching you to hourly pay instead of a salary. That’s much more common in smaller practices, by the way.”
Kate glowered at him.
“Your pay will match industry standards and be commensurate with your experience,” Prem plowed on. “But you should both expect less overall take-home pay each month.”
“What about…” Deja whimpered.
Prem knew exactly where she was going. “Unfortunately, I can no longer afford to cover your health insurance costs or provide matches to your 401ks. Not at a practice this small. Instead, I’ll be sponsoring health savings accounts, and I’ll provide bonuses at the end of the year based on the profitability of the practice. You’ll need to open your own private IRAs if you want to continue investing in a retirement account.”
Deja looked like she was going to cry. Or vomit. Maybe both. Kate seemed moments away from launching out of her chair and wrapping her talons around his neck.
Prem dragged his eyes to Layla. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t expressed any shock, horror, or anger at his pronouncements. Instead, she seemed resigned, as if she’d somehow expected the day to keep delivering sucker punches.
Prem’s next words tangled in his throat. He desperately didn’t want to add to her pain. But he had no choice. It was the only way to make the practice profitable.
“Layla, I’ll be scaling back your hours as well,” he said to her gently. “You’ll be covering reception during the busiest times of the day. Deja and Kate, you’ll be expected to serve in reception in the early morning and evening.”
Kate barked a rough laugh. “Oh, so we’re receptionists now, too? Perfect. And what if we say that this is utter bullshit?”
Prem had expected this, had steeled himself for their pushback. He met the older woman’s intense stare. “I know these changes are not what you want, but they need to happen. I am asking that you give me a chance to make this practice more successful.”
“You mean more profitable,” Kate spat back.
Was there a difference? Prem kept his voice firm and detached. “Please take the weekend to think over these new arrangements. If you feel you can’t accept these changes, I understand. Please provide your notice by Monday morning, and you have my best wishes with the rest of your career.”
Prem had prepared for the possibility of losing one or more of the existing staff. It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. If that happened, he’d hire young vet techs right out of school who would gladly accept a lower salary and who he could mold to his standards and expectations.
At the same time, he doubted he’d lose any of the women in the break room. Yucca Hills only had one other veterinary practice, a small place located on the north side of town that exclusively treated cats and dogs. And—if his information was correct—it paid even less than his rates. The next closest clinic was an animal hospital in Sagebrush Canyon with no current job openings.
Prem slowly met the gaze of each employee in turn. He kept his voice steady and professional. “It should be clear by now that I am not Dr. Goldman. You will find that I am strict but also fair. I expect competence, diligence, and reliability. In exchange, I will give you the same. If you choose to stay, I will sit down with each of you to discuss your hourly pay, your work schedule, and your performance expectations. Next week, we’ll be training on new procedures, software, and equipment as necessary. Also, I will be implementing annual performance reviews.”
Prem swallowed. “If you plan to stay, please be here on Monday morning at 8 AM.” His gaze rested on Deja. “8 AM sharp,” he clarified.
He scanned the room to see how his announcements had landed. Kate fumed, her hands closed into white-knuckled fists by her sides. Deja slumped in her chair as if she’d lost several of her vertebrae. Even her foot had stopped tapping.
Prem felt he should say something else. Something to soften the blow. He licked his lips. “In just over a week, we will re-open the clinic. I hope you’ll all be a part of this journey.” After a slight pause, he added, “Thank you.”
He stood, waiting to see if anyone had any questions or comments. A heavy, uncomfortable silence permeated the room. Prem glanced at the poster above the countertop. An unimpressed black cat gripped a mug. “Coffee,” the poster said. “Because Murder Is Wrong.”
The way Kate was looking at him, Prem wondered if she might make an exception just for him. Not wanting to find out, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his shell-shocked employees behind.
*
Ten minutes after Prem had very professionally all but fled from his employees, a soft knock sounded at his office door. He straightened in the squeaky desk chair.
Had one of the vet techs decided to quit? Perhaps both of them? Prem tightened his jaw. Kate. Had to be Kate. Maybe she wanted to spit in his face before she stormed out.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and Layla drifted into his office. Prem’s heart lurched like it’d been T-boned by a BroDozer. The business owner in him knew it’d be much more cost-efficient if he replaced her with a more junior employee, but the rest of him wanted—desperately wanted—her to stay. He’d been looking forward to seeing her bright, cheerful face each morning.
Not that her face was anywhere near bright or cheerful right now. In fact, her face seemed to be experiencing a permanent post-nuclear winter. Another wave of protectiveness rose inside him.
“Are you quitting?” he asked glumly. When Layla didn’t answer, he continued. “Look, I’ve gotta be brutally honest, Goldman was grossly overpaying you. Your salary was nearly what a technician makes. I can’t justify the expense. You’re going to be looking at a roughly 20% pay cut, and I need to keep you at 30 hours, like the techs.”
Prem pulled in a heavy breath. Would he lose her? The possibility sat in his stomach like a handful of rusted nails. His eyes fell to the Post-it note on his computer. Welcome, Dr. Dhawan!
Layla clasped her hands in front of her body. “I don’t care what you pay me,” she said softly. “I do this because I love helping animals and their people. I came in here to let you know that Deja is a single mom. Her son is seven, and money is already tight for her. Just in case you didn’t know.”
Prem frowned. He’d put together files on all three of the clinic’s employees. He was aware of their work histories and skill sets. But no, he hadn’t known this. It didn’t change things, though. It couldn’t change things. If he didn’t make this practice profitable enough to cover his loan payments to his parents, no one would earn a paycheck.
Prem looked at Layla. “I can’t give Deja more hours. Not until our earnings justify it. But I’ll sit down with her and give her scheduling needs priority. If she works the morning shift, she won’t need to find care for her son in the evening.”
“Except on every other Saturday,” Layla replied in that same soft voice.
Right. That. “Well, she’ll just need to figure something out,” Prem sputtered. The words sounded as useless as he felt, but what was he supposed to do? Open a daycare center in the clinic?
“And Kate’s husband had a stroke a few years ago,” Layla continued. “He’s disabled now, and she’s the only earner.”
Prem groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.
Layla continued. “She was planning to retire in three years, but with a pay cut, she’ll have to work longer.”
“I’m paying them industry rates,” Prem responded, almost pleading. “I can’t run a charity just because everyone has a sob story.”
Layla simply stared at him. “I just thought you should know,” she repeated. “Deja and Kate aren’t just numbers on a spreadsheet. They’re real people.”
Her voice was resigned. Disappointed. It cut him to shreds.
“This is a business,” Prem growled at her, at himself, at this shit reality. “We’ve got to make money!”
Layla turned to leave, her long braid swinging like a metronome at her hips. Her next words were a stake through the heart.
“But at what cost, Dr. Dhawan?”