If you missed previous segments of the CMEslinger saga, you can read them here:
And now, our latest segment:
Part 4 (Derek)
The CMEslinger grabbed his leather duster and stroked the shearling collar for a moment before shrugging it on. The coat had been a 50th birthday present from his daughter, Sierra, a few years back and was one of his few treasured possessions. The CMEslinger is not a man who surprises easily, but the quality of his daughter’s gift, not to mention the cost, had caught him off guard at the time. It shouldn’t have.
Sierra had been a precocious child, talking at 10 months, reading at 4 years old, reciting Gertrude Stein by memory at the third grade talent show (“Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose”). She tested out of fifth grade entirely and graduated from high school the same year she turned sweet sixteen. Scholarship offers came in from Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, but Sierra shocked everyone by staying local and attending Cuthbert University—a fine school, but one lovingly known as “Safety U” because no one ever listed it as their first choice. But Sierra had plans of her own, and an Ivy League education was not part of them.
There is a common saying in CME circles that “no one gets into CME on purpose.” Phinneas, of course, had his own version of that, snorting “No one gets into CME; CME gets into you!” at the CMEslinger and the man in black more times than they cared to remember. Sierra would prove the exception to that rule with a singular focus on a career in CME that could only come from an offspring of the CMEslinger. As a toddler, she would tag along with him to the TAXIE office, and even when he moved on to form his own company, Sierra remained a TAXIE loyalist and became a key member of Marge’s program management team by her senior year in high school. It didn’t hurt that Marge was also her godmother, but no one ever questioned Sierra’s capabilities. She would have skipped college entirely and gone full-time at TAXIE, except the CMEslinger put his ostrich skin booted foot down and insisted she get her degree (though it was actually the heartfelt talk between Marge and a tearstained Sierra that convinced her to accept a spot at Cuthbert and delay her burgeoning CME career by a few more years.)
At her graduation ceremony at Cuthbert, Sierra walked across the stage, grabbed her diploma, and hurried directly over to her new office at TAXIE, something given only to those with a promotion to Senior Program Manager. Over a period of 5 years, she rose to Program Director and then Vice President of Educational Strategy, the youngest employee to which TAXIE had ever bestowed a VP title. Her father’s advice helped, but it was Marge and her tough love approach that Sierra credited most for guiding her in her career. She was 25 years old, a VP at one of the largest medical education companies in the world, and the apple of the CMEslinger’s eye.
And then she went over to the dark side.
It is an inside joke to those who exist in the CME provider world, referring to the industry section of CME as “the dark side.” Still, it came as quite a shock to everyone, Marge included, when Sierra announced she was leaving TAXIE for a Grant Director position at Tower Pharmaceuticals. And yes, the CMEslinger had to admit, it stung him more than a satchel full of hornets that his little girl was leaving the provider side for a job on the dark side. He never did get a full explanation from her about why she was leaving. “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just something I need to do,” was the most he ever got out of her.
She never offered an explanation to Marge, either, and Marge never asked for one. On Sierra’s last day in the TAXIE office, as she was making her final walk down the hallway towards the elevator, Marge called her into her office, where she sat speedily clacking away at her computer keyboard. Tilting her head down slightly and looking at Sierra over the top of her halfmoon readers, Marge imparted a final bit of advice.
“You call me when you run into trouble.”
“’When”? Not ‘if’?”
“Yes, ‘when’.”
“OK, Marge. I will. Thanks.”
Marge nodded and went back to typing. She never looked back as Sierra walked away.
All this the CMEslinger relayed to the man in black as they Ubered over to Tower Pharmaceuticals HQ.
“Yes, I know all this already, you chucklehead,” the man in black growled. “You forced me to listen to all your stories when Marge locked us in that hotel room in Vegas.”
“Ah, right, right,” the CMEslinger intoned absently.
The Uber glided up to the massive black edifice of Tower world headquarters, and the two unlikely partners jumped out and hurried into the front lobby. Neither man had been in the building previously, and it took them a moment to spot the intercom system for contacting occupants. Quickly scanning the directory, the CMEslinger punched in the numbers for Sierra’s office. She picked up on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“Sierra? It’s Dad. I’m downstairs.”
“Oh.”
An awkward silence of several seconds followed, interrupted only by the low frequency hum of the intercom.
“Sierra? You still there?” the CMEslinger asked hesitantly
“I’ll be right down,” his daughter said sharply and disconnected the line.
CMEPALOOZA 