Beggars for Roses

A Tale of Two Cities - I

We had been to France over the weekend. 

For the past four days I'd fallen into 

my new routine, going back to office 

with truncated hours, driving directly 

over to the hospital after five 

in the evening. I trusted my staff in 

my absence, completely. Now coalesced 

into a well-oiled machine, they would keep 

functioning, nary a hiccup, under 

minimal supervision.

                                          I was still 

available for counsel for one hour: 

a Scope custom of The Big Four (Anna, 

Maria, Billy and I) to keep some 

time free for consultation and guidance 

of all our junior staff, as they were fresh 

hires as a rule. I devoted most of 

my time to the team project under me

(the one on Mexican children for our 

issue on illegal immigration). 

I was also incredibly lucky 

in all my department managers and

could entrust the other aspects of my

enterprise to them for the time being. 

Otherwise, my company was a small

size, enough that I could coordinate 

all of its functioning limbs with greater 

involvement.

                             I was happy this was the 

last day of the week. The conference, a 

Scope tradition when everyone put in 

an extra hour on Fridays to report, 

concur on their work, had gone supremely 

well today. My staff, working in teams for 

stories, had expertly brought me up to 

par with their progress and discussed issues. 

They had developed an instinct when they 

knew I was otherwise preoccupied