As we prepare for Sunday’s Super Bowl tussle (Go Birds!), it’s time for another peek at the issues plaguing the people within the CME enterprise.

Remember, if you have an issue (professional or personal) you want us to help with, you can click here to submit your question(s). Don’t be shy, folks. – we’re here to help.

Dear Derek and Scott,

I’ve heard whispers of educational grants floating around — specifically for conferences and already existing education — that don’t require the full rigamarole of a Request for Proposals (RFP). How does one find these elusive grants and support opportunities?

Fondly,

Financially Flummoxed Both Professionally and Personally

DEREK: Hmmm, as much as like the idea of a secret group of grants spoken about in hushed tones as if they’re being handed out by Keyser Söze, I’m really not sure what this is in reference to. Nonetheless, I am happy to share a few thoughts.

First, the way this question is worded makes it sound like there is an assumption that you must go through an RFP/CGA process in order to get a grant. I’m not sure if that’s the intent of the question, but to be clear, that is not accurate. There are some supporters that only use an RFP process, there are some supporters that only accept unsolicited proposals, and there are some supporters that do both. There are plenty of supporters that award grants through a non-RFP process.

Second, yes, there are a few supporters that use a “reduced” application/proposal in order to apply for grants for annual meetings and conferences. I say “a few supporters,” though I only know of one off the top of my head, and that’s only because I used to work there. Pfizer has an annual meetings specific grants track that is non-RFP and uses a simpler application. There may be others who do something similar, but I am not personally familiar with them.

SCOTT: A few years ago, I had a few hospital systems and smaller associations who hired me specifically to submit grants on their behalf for support of some of their annual events. These were grant requests of <$10K that could be submitted with trimmed down grant sections. While there typically needed to be some sort of needs assessment, agenda, outcomes, and other key sections for the request, grantors did not seem to expect a fully blown-out grant proposal.

Because there were often 15+ funding targets for these meetings, what I always found helpful whenever I was submitting these proposals was to create a Word document that included trimmed down sections (due to many portal character limits) of the common areas most grantor portals required before I began the submissions. That let me copy and paste a lot of the information instead of having to try to shoehorn in a lot of de novo material. Let’s face it – grant submissions can be quite tedious and time consuming, but they are also crucial as they are often our only means of making our case for program support.

Dear Derek and Scott,

How can we all better manage expectations within the workplace and with supporters, who want everything urgently? Even extremely complex things? Burnout throughout the industry is real, and it’s only getting worse. Coupled with the non-stop stress of what is happening in the world, it’s too much for people to handle to be stressed all of the time whether it be about a deadline or a fire or an imminent World War. We need to collectively figure out how to reset what is actually important and urgent and what can wait. More time also allows more thoughtful approaches and better output. I know everyone feels this, and I know we all need the instant gratification era to end. It’s time to stop just talking about it and actually do something about it or we will lose good people that are trying to make a positive impact in patient care. (Please don’t use my real name)

Proudly,

The Voice for the People

SCOTT: First of all, unless your birth certificate reads “Name: The Voice for the People,” your true identity is entirely safe with us, primarily because we don’t know who you are (no one who submits an issue to us has to tell us their real name). For now, we’ll assume you are either Peter Parker or Bruce Wayne because you are raising a superhero set of issues.

Professional stress and burnout are certainly not new concerns, but for many generations these concerns were simply swept under the rug as “the way it is.” I certainly remember many late nights devoted to “urgent” projects earlier in my career that required our team to rally to complete specific work. Being that I was young and single at the time, as well as the fact that I work best under deadline pressure, I actually didn’t always mind these moonlight responsibilities. Actually, they were occasionally kind of fun as we ordered in cheap pizza and soda to keep everyone motivated and caffeinated. But that was a different era, and certainly may not be embraced by the majority of today’s CME workforce.

Where I see the biggest problem is the people who are demanding things “now, now, now.” In your viewpoint, many of these urgent requests are coming from supporters (I have not personally often had this experience), but it really doesn’t matter who they come from if they are coming day after day, week after week. While occasionally, these sorts of urgent requests are inevitable, there is nothing worse than the colleague who is a poor planner and professionally unprepared, resulting in fire after fire needing to be put out. It is easy to say that one person’s poor planning should not constitute another person’s emergency, but when people who are higher up than us in the company pecking order are giving us urgent orders and challenging deadlines, it is not easy to say, “No” (well, unless you don’t value having that job).

So Mr. Parker/Wayne, my advice to you is this: Don’t be afraid to voice your concerns, either privately within your organization or more audibly through mechanisms like you’ve done today through our blog. It is important for everyone to think about the demands they are placing on others and consider their potential impact.

DEREK: This is an excellent topic, and I have many opinions about it. But given that we’re already closing in on a 2,000-word blog post — and I usually start getting uncomfortable when we pass 500 words — I’ll distill my thoughts down to what I think is the key to managing expectations and work stress: lots of alcohol communication.

I know it seems very simplistic, but I am constantly amazed at how poor we are at communicating with each other. If you have to work with a supporter who is constantly making urgent requests, talk to them about it. They may not realize they are doing it, or maybe the request isn’t as urgent as it sounds in their email. Some people are really bad with tone in their emails. Talk to them about setting up regular check-ins that might help alleviate the need for last-second requests. The point is, talk to them.

Dear Derek and Scott,

Happy Healthcare Continuing Education Professionals Day! Did you also know there is a “World Accreditation Day” on June 9th for all of us Accreditation Nerds? Do you have any celebration ideas?

Party On,

Accreditation Nerds Worldwide

DEREK: I must confess that I did not know that June 9th is World Accreditation Day. You got me there. On the hand, did you know that January 24th was National Talk Like a Grizzled Prospector Day? Neither did I, until I got a gleeful text from Scott last week informing me. Nary a word from him on my birthday, but I hear from him first thing in the morning on NTLAGP Day. Par for the course.

I think the best way to celebrate World Accreditation Day is to throw a big party, invite all your Accreditation Nerd friends, and give them the thing they love the most: a list of rules and guidelines to follow with boxes they can check off when done. Accreditation Nerds love that stuff. Here’s an example list:

• Hang your coat in the closet on the left, utilizing either a wire, wooden, or plastic hangar. Please provide your rationale for the hangar selected.
• Create a cocktail that can be distributed to other party participants. Please provide the exact list of ingredients, the steps involved in crafting the cocktail, and an explanation of your distribution methods.
• Develop a Spotify playlist based on the needs of the party audience. At the conclusion of the party, please include an assessment of the impact of the playlist on the party audience’s change in behavior.
• Provide an overview of the cost and type of any meals served at the party. Please keep in mind that if a plated meal was served, you will also need to include a list of the names of all partygoers who partook in the meal. If it was a buffet, a list of names is not required.

Be sure to put together a gift bag of party favors that includes file folders, multi-color highlighters, sticky tabs, and Wite-Out (That last one is a little joke. No good Accreditation Nerd would ever use Wite-Out.) I know everything is digital now, but they’ll appreciate the nostalgia.

SCOTT: Perhaps if Derek actually read some of my previous blog posts, he would have been well aware that January 24 was NTLAGP Day, but I guess the man is simply too busy to pay attention to others. And yet he’s still surprised when his birthday goes unacknowledged and his pathetic pleading for someone, anyone to gift him a bottle of some pricey single-malt scotch whiskey goes unfulfilled.

Of course, as a dedicated fan of the CMEpalooza blog, you are probably well aware of my opinions on all of these “special” days that pop up on the calendar. For all of you celebrating National Homemade Soup Day, National Sweater Day, or Medjool Date Day on this February 4, I apologize if I am insulting you, but GET A LIFE!

(I would wish my son a happy 14th birthday today, but he has never read a single blog post I have ever written, so I’ll ignore it)

Nonetheless, if you are steadfast in your need to celebrate World Accreditation Day, following in Derek’s lead, here are a few more ideas sure to keep things spicy among your nerdy colleagues:

• Be sure to send out forms at least 2 weeks in advance of the party asking attendees to disclose any food allergies. Work with your caterer in an attempt to mitigate any of these allergies. If that is not possible, disinvite the affected individuals.
• Only offer generic food brands. So it’s Chocolate Cream Cookies (no Oreos), Cheese Puffs (no Cheetos), and Cola (no Coke). If anyone complains that they don’t understand what they are eating, refer them to the promotional brand party next door with all of the celebrities and models.
• Play fun games like “Pin the Tail on the Faculty Member Who Refuses to Fill Out Her Disclosure Form” or “Musical Activity Chairs Who Don’t Understand Why Their Conflicts of Interest Can’t Be Mitigated” or “Spin the Bottle of Expensive Wine That You Absolutely, Positively Cannot Serve to Learners”

You’ll excuse me if I have somewhere else to be that day. I’m sure Derek will be happy to attend, especially if you pony up for his expensive bottle of hooch.

Remember, if you have an issue (professional or personal) you want us to help with in a future iteration of Ask Us Anything, you can click here to submit your question(s).

If you missed previous segments of the CMEslinger saga, you can read them here:

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3

And now, our latest segment:

Part 4 (Scott)
Meanwhile, far ahead in the distance, the man in black waited in his Vegas hotel room patiently, coolly sipping from his Coors Light. He had been working for weeks to perfect his plan, and he had anticipated the CMEslinger’s every move. After all that time working side by side, there were few secrets between the two. They knew each other’s favorite movie (The Dirty Dozen for the man in black, Yentl for the CMEslinger), drink (Old Fashioned and Pickletini, respectively), and old-time 76er star (Andrew Toney and Charles Shackleford).

But there was a reason that the man in black was Phinneas’ favorite. He was always two steps ahead of the CMEslinger. When a faculty member got snowed in and couldn’t make it to a satellite symposium, the man in black set up a remote link to beam her into the program within the hour. The CMEslinger? He frantically called the airlines to beg and plead for an emergency rebooking that never came. When their enduring program was 100 learners short of the promised reach with a month until its expiration, the man in black dialed up a relevant association partner to get premier promotional placement for that activity in their next member newsletter. The CMEslinger’s best idea was a sandwich board that he forced an intern to wear as he ran around the exhibit hall of a local conference with a scannable URL code pointing learners directly to the activity’s front matter. To the man in black, the CMEslinger wasn’t even competition. He was just a pest.

So then was the man in black worried about this final showdown? No, not in the least. Everything was unfolding perfectly, piece by piece.

That silver-haired woman in the faded jeans who oh-by-the-way-just-happened-to-be-working-on-a-CME-grant-proposal? It was the man in black’s dear Aunt Betty, who didn’t know a needs assessment from a needlepoint assignment. The man in black had rented that dilapidated cottage on VRBO and ensconced his aunt on the porch along with detailed instructions of what she should tell the CMEslinger when he steered his palomino in her direction. The best part of it all was that the flawed grant proposal the CMEslinger helped out with was one that the man in black had written (and had fully funded, thank you very much) just a year ago.

And that rusty old Wrangler? The man in black bought it last week at the junkyard for $50 and a carton of Marlboro Reds. He was barely able to coax it the 20 miles to the rental homestead. So of course he told Aunt Betty to trade the Wrangler for some “professional advice” from the CMEslayer. Good luck getting it another 300 miles through the desert to the Vegas convention hotel.

Figuring he had hours to kill before the final showdown commenced, the man in black laid down and ordered room service. One cheeseburger, rare, with a side of fries, burnt and crispy. He flicked through the TV until he found one of those old Westerns starring Alan Ladd that he loved so much.

The man in black was just starting to dose off when his phone rang. He figured it was probably just Aunt Betty calling to talk his ear off over how perfectly she had played her role. So imagine the man in black’s surprise when, as he dug the crusties out of the corner of his right eye, he heard the wheezing rasp of his old friend on the line.

“I’m in the lobby,” the CMEslinger said. “Let’s do this.”

When you attend conferences focused broadly on the CME enterprise (or better yet, if you simply wait for CMEpalooza in the spring and fall), you can’t help but stumble upon education focused on big picture topics. If you’ve been in this industry for any amount of time, you know what I mean.

Outcomes assessment. Educational design. Grant development. Accreditation. Technology. That sort of stuff.

That said, there are many nooks and crannies within the day-to-day work and success of the CME professional that are never discussed during these conferences but are nonetheless crucial to the success (or not) of our work. In these next few weeks, I’m going to touch on a few of these areas and share some real-life scenarios for you to chew on. And yes, these all happened to me during my career.

Today’s Topic: Faculty Recruitment

For many accredited initiatives, one of the first steps in the implementation process involves getting faculty on board. Sometimes, this can be easy, especially if you have a personal relationship with the person(s) you want to invite. It’s much harder to say no to someone you have worked with before (assuming you like and trust them) than a random stranger dangling an opportunity. Being the “random stranger” comes with the territory sometimes, though.

I have probably used the same faculty invitation template for the last 15 years. It’s pretty straightforward – here is the project, here are the deliverables, here are the expectations as faculty, here is the honoraria we’re offering. Typically, I’ll give faculty a week to respond “Yay” or “Nay.” There are often hiccups – the OOO message that forces you to decide, “How long do I wait now for a response?”, the ghosting despite multiple entreaties, or the “this is not enough money” negotiation. You are getting pressure internally while this is going on (“We promised in the grant proposal that this activity would launch in 3 months, and you can’t get faculty on board so we can start?!?!?!”), but there isn’t often a whole lot under your control. That’s the worst part of it.

Let’s look at a few specific scenarios and talk through some possible ways to handle them. Again, these all happened. To me.

SCENARIO 1: You craft your usual faculty invitation language for participation in a satellite symposium, but instead of offering the $3,000 to each presenting faculty member, you mistakenly offer the $5,000 that was earmarked only for the faculty chair. You realize your error within 5 minutes of sending the invitation.

WHAT YOU CAN DO: Can you send a follow-up email that says, “Oops, we didn’t mean to offer you this amount of honoraria. Here is the real offer”? Probably not. You likely just have to bite the bullet and pay what you offered in the email (I’m assuming it’s not something really egregious like offering $30,000 instead of $3,000, which would be an obvious error that you would need to clarify, but also that most faculty would notice and question). The best scenario — sort of — would be for all of the faculty who were offered the wrong amount to say, “No,” so that you could correct the amount in the next round of offers. What is more likely is that some of these faculty will say yes and some will say no. So then do you need to offer the erroneously high amount to the next round of faculty? Probably not, but it’s something to consider in case the faculty talk amongst themselves about the honoraria they are being paid. It would look really bad for Dr. X to receive one amount while Dr. Y receives a different amount for the same work.

WHAT I DID: Fortunately, it’s been a while since I made this error though I did offer less than I should have last year (though we’re talking a $500 difference) that was accepted by faculty. In the scenario described above, I am fairly certain we made the internal decision to offer all faculty the erroneous amount in my initial email. That didn’t make me a hero to the budget folks as it likely cost our organization an extra $5,000 or more, but it was the right thing to do.

SCENARIO 2: You need two faculty for an online activity. Each week, you send out two invitations, giving each person a week to accept (or not). After 4 weeks, you have gotten nothing but declines or ignores, and you are getting internal pressure to get things moving. So, the next week, you send out 4 invitations, hoping for at least 1 acceptance. Instead, you get 3 people to accept. Oops.

WHAT YOU CAN DO: Certainly, it would be possible to bring all three faculty on board, though this again has budgetary implications. You could ignore one of the faculty commitments and pretend you didn’t receive it. You could come clean by explaining the scenario and “dis-invite” one of the faculty.

WHAT I DID: I wrote a very nicely worded email to the third faculty member who accepted our invitation, explaining that we heard from a previously out-of-office invited faculty member after the latest invitations had been sent out. I am sure he was not thrilled by my “we’ll certainly keep you in mind for future educational opportunities,” but I didn’t feel too bad about this one. It was a tough, unfortunate situation.

SCENARIO 3: You unexpectedly receive grant funding for a live activity taking place in 6 weeks. You need to find 2 faculty willing to travel onsite, in the middle of the work week, to serve as presenters.

WHAT CAN YOU DO: One approach would be to quietly reach out to anyone and everyone you have worked with on this topic to “test the waters” before sending out a formal invitation. Because you don’t have time to waste, you may need to “over-invite” once again and then hope for the best. I suppose you could push back and tell the funder, “We can’t pull this off in 6 weeks. Can we submit a change of scope for next year?” though that would likely be the last resort.

WHAT I DID: I started contacting people we had worked with before to see if they had any flexibility in their schedules for a midweek symposium presentation. After receiving a whole slew of “Sorry, we have patients that day and I can’t simply walk away from that,” we finally lucked into a faculty member who was going to be in the geographic vicinity for another meeting the next day. She was able to change her travel schedule to fit it our activity. Our second faculty member was local and was able to take a few hours off to drive to the activity. Crisis averted.

I like these sort of real-world scenarios, especially ones that are a bit nuanced but happen to the best of us. These would be great submissions for our Ask Us Anything feature, by the way. We’ll have our February installment next month.