on managing my uncivil tongue

I've developed a reputation as a bit of a gruff old man at work, who stands for little nonsense from fellow professionals (although I have to stand for a lot - maybe too much - from my clients; it's just the nature of working with substance-abusing welfare recipients). A couple weeks ago, we were told about the topic for this statewide meeting: it was presented as a treatment provider who would not let a client go because it was the nature of their program to hold them for a fixed length of stay (e.g., all clients stay for 28 days, or six months, or whatever). My program is founded on the idea that different clients have different needs, and we attempt to fit the treatment provided to the client need. Most managed care is solely based on saving money, but ours is based on client condition; our care-managers are all mental-health and addiction professionals.

As was brought up in the meeting, you don't tell a person with a broken leg that they've gotta wear a cast for twelve weeks because that's what everybody does; you assess how each fracture is progressing, and treat the individual case. You don't put every diabetic on insulin, either.

It's the kind of thing I have a tendency to roll my eyes and say things about that I later regret; my behavior has been known to make my administrators cringe, so I was approached by my immediate supervisor to see if I was going to survive this encounter without bringing down the temple in my rage, like Samson. The Provider in question is politically-connected, so we don't want to upset them too much.

I decided to have something to do with my mouth to remind me to keep it shut. I bought a grocery-store-sized bag of bubble gum and two of Tootsie-Pops, and had them with me in the auditorium ("They let you chew gum?" asked one of my friends when I told her about this strategy. "They let me do what I needed to do," I replied). I offered a few to my co-workers, but I, myself, went through five lollipops and two wraps of gum in the three-hour presentation. (I also sat three seats away from the deputy director, as a further brake on my enthusiasm. Ahem.)

The upside: it worked. Nothing rude rolled out of my mouth.

The downsides:

1. That's a lot of calories. I I did a 50-mile bike ride, and starved myself yesterday, to manage all that sugar. (On explaining my plan and the outcome to the excellent wife, she said, "Keeping your job is healthy, Jim." She shows a remarkable amount of good sense, which is one of the reasons she is my excellent wife.)
   
2. Lollipops are sloppy. I wound up wearing a certain amount of drool on the front of my shirt.
   

It turned out that the client in question was not being held because of the program's inflexible plan, but because of stupid earlier management and the inability to let go of one of her counselors. Stupid earlier management had gotten this young woman to the point where her next episode of running afoul of the state child protective services office may lead to unrecoverable placement of her kids in a foster family. And the counselor was unable to let go of the client because of this. These are two more of my favorite topics to rant about, so it's a good thing I was prepared.

In any case, I still get to go to my office on Monday.