My Pet Lop Rabbit Had a Fever

Chapter 4: The One-on-One

Dana was waiting in the small conference room when I arrived. I carried my laptop and a notebook. I left the packet open on my screen.

She gestured to the chair across from her. "You've taken this to Martin."

"I asked for guidance."

"You went outside the reporting line."

"I did not complete that approval."

"Your account completed it."

"I was at the clinic."

Her face didn't change. "Were you logged out?"

"Yes."

"Did you leave your laptop unlocked?"

"No."

"Then I don't know what you expect me to do with that."

"You can preserve the audit trail and identify who completed the step."

"You're implying I used your account."

"I'm telling you what happened."

"Be precise, then. You don't know who used it."

"That's correct."

"Good." She folded her hands. "Because an accusation like that can damage a colleague's reputation."

"I'm not making an accusation. I'm asking for an investigation."

Dana leaned back. The glass walls of the conference room made every movement feel public, even though no one was looking in.

"The report had a deadline," she said. "You refused an assigned task, left the office, and now the client is waiting on a release. You need to understand the effect that has on your team."

"I left because I had a veterinary emergency. The work wasn't on my list, and I said I couldn't certify it without the source records."

"You didn't need to certify the clinical outcome."

"The approval says I verified the final report against a complete source set."

"And you had the source set."

"I didn't. The pages weren't in the folder."

"They were misplaced."

"Then they should have been attached before approval."

She watched me for a moment. "Are you going to keep saying this in every conversation?"

"I'm going to keep describing what happened."

"What do you want?"

"I want the audit trail reviewed. I want the record corrected so my account isn't shown as approving something I didn't approve."

"You don't get to decide how the record is corrected."

"I didn't say I did."

"Do you understand what an investigation would do to this launch?"

"I understand it may delay the launch."

"It would risk a client contract and six months of work. It could cost this company a great deal."

I heard the argument beneath the numbers: a company's interests against one employee's report. It was a useful argument because it didn't require her to say that the record was accurate.

"I'm not asking for a launch delay," I said. "I'm asking for a truthful record."

Dana lowered her voice. "The company needs people who can solve problems without turning every loose end into a crisis. We have staffing constraints. We have a client who needs the materials. We have clinical staff who reviewed the file. If you can't be flexible, you should tell me now."

The sentence wasn't quite a threat. It didn't need to be.

"I can be flexible about deadlines and formats," I said. "Not about whether I approved something."

"You're making this very personal."

"My name is attached to the approval. It's personal."

She closed her notebook. "I'm putting you on administrative leave from this project until we sort out your performance concerns."

"My performance?"

"You left an active assignment. You escalated a routine issue instead of bringing it to me. We're going to document the conversation."

"I did bring it to you."

"Then we'll have no trouble documenting that."

She asked me to send her my written account. I told her I had already sent it to Martin. She said that wasn't the same as following management procedure. I asked whether she wanted me to send her a copy, too.

She didn't answer directly. "Go back to your desk. You're removed from the HarborCare work for now."

At my desk, I sent Martin the audit report and a short timeline. I attached no patient records. I listed what I had seen, what I had signed, and the time I had left. I included the name of the clinic where Pippin was being treated only to document why I'd left. Martin had asked for facts, not a defense speech.

Before lunch, Human Resources sent me a meeting invitation for the next morning. The subject line was "Review of Project Conduct."

I called the clinic. Dr. Patel said Pippin was resting, still receiving fluids, and had taken a few bites of greens. They wanted to keep him another night.

I asked what his care would cost so far. The estimate was more than I had in my emergency fund. I had decent insurance through Brackenridge, but it wouldn't cover veterinary care. I paid the clinic deposit from my savings and told them I would work out the rest.

That afternoon, Martin called me into his office. He was careful and exact, the way he had been on the phone.

"I reviewed the access log," he said. "The approval came from a workstation assigned to your department."

"Can you see whose?"

"Not yet. The log identifies the machine, not the person at the keyboard."

"Can you tell whether my password was used?"

"Yes."

"Was it?"

He paused. "The system shows your credentials. I'm still verifying the sequence."

My shoulders tightened. "I logged out."

"I've noted that. Please don't speculate about who may have accessed the workstation."

"I won't."

"Did you share your password with anyone?"

"No."

"Did anyone ever watch you enter it?"

"Probably. The office is open. I don't remember a specific time."

He nodded and wrote something down. "I'm also looking at the history of the report. There were changes after you left."

"What changes?"

"I can't discuss them yet."

I went back to my desk with no more certainty than I had entered with. That evening, the clinic called with better news. Pippin's fever had come down. He had eaten a little hay.

I sat in the parking lot after the call and let myself breathe.

Then I opened my email. Dana had sent me a draft performance memo. It said I had failed to meet a reasonable after-hours business need.

I read it twice. At the bottom was a line requesting my signature to confirm receipt.

I didn't sign it. I saved it, then sent it to Martin.