Actually whatever. I'm in a writey mood.
So I did write once here about supervision and how much it is or isn't like therapy. I'm pretty sure we all make a few assumptions about this, in order to maintain the holding environment that we'd all like in supervision. One of these is that it's (in some loose sense) confidential. If you were to say to your supervisor that you were having trouble with a coworker, it would be reasonable to assume that your supervisor would not go straight to the coworker and say so.
Murgatroid went, I think the same day, to Director Slappy and told her apparently verbatim about my Medicaid mill comment. Slappy apparently regarded "Medicaid mill" as the worst thing you could say about a place, about her place. I think we can file this under "reaction formation" because in retrospect, the label was absolutely appropriate. Slappy and Murgatroid went into action and reviewed my chart and saw that Jake had no notes for weeks and weeks, probably the same story for Pierrot. There was a letter on my desk the next morning saying that if my charts weren't up to date in two weeks, we would need to review my employment at Fuckaway.
I went and met with Slappy. She couched everything in concern for my well being, except when she brought of the fatal phrase, le Moulin Medicaidaire. At that point she wasn't doing much to mask her anger. She explained that a Medicaid mill is a place that bills for services not provided. And then she started talking about how I should think about what might be a better work environment.
Well, I wrote the notes. It was pure fabrication, but it would have been anyway. I threw in the right phrases. Once in a while I would try to remember some actual content in the interest of some obscure correctness. It was unpleasant, not least because now I was doing it under threat of losing my job, but I finished it all up, and Murg and Slaps reviewed my charts, and that was that.
Slappy stopped talking to me. She would sit beside me in the lunch room and not look at me. I should say that for some time, she had been really collegial with me, seemed happy of my clinical interests, talked to me about Linehan and Kernberg and shit. But from the instant of l'affaire moulin until I gave my notice a few months later, I was dead to her.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
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