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

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4
• Part 5

And now, our latest segment:

Part 6 (Scott)
The man in black snarled as he turned on his heels to go find Marge. The CMEslinger took his time, lingering a few feet behind, letting his nemesis have this final small victory.

“Room 242,” the man in black muttered. “Here we are.”

As the CMEslinger approached, the man in black opened the door to find Marge, as expected, pouring one last time over a mountain of invoices and receipts. She had already given her blessing to each man’s expenditures, assuring both parties that this was a fair fight, but no one was surprised to see her doing one last check. Her fastidious nature was the reason she had survived 23 years alongside Phinneas as the organization’s accreditation guru. Often a thorn in the sides of everyone around her, Marge was as pure as a mountain stream, a rare bastion of fairness that made her the only possible choice as referee of this “winner take all” competition.

It had been a complicated 3 months, ever since the day that Phinneas summoned the men to his office on a warm September afternoon. With a tear in his eye, he addressed them both that day.

“Men, watching the two of you grow as CME professionals is among my most cherished accomplishments. And yet watching one small incident tear you apart is among my biggest disappointments. I am tired of the bickering, the back and forth ‘he said this and he said that.’ This needs to end. Today.”

He spent the next 30 minutes going over the rules of the “loser-leaves-CME” competition. He had already secured a satellite symposium time slot from 6-8 pm on the opening night of the biggest specialist meeting of the year. The rooms would be identical in size, each seating a maximum of 472 attendees, equidistant from the hotel lobby. Each man was given $200,000 to spend as they saw fit – activity design, audience generation, faculty recruitment, staffing, you name it. Whoever had more butts in seats at 7 pm–exactly halfway through the symposium time slot–was the winner. Of course, Phinneas pointed to Marge sitting quietly in the corner and told both parties that all receipts would need to be handed over to her to ensure a fair playing field.

“There will be no shenanigans,” Phinneas said. “Everything remains above board. I put my trust in the both of you as gentlemen.”

Neither the CMEslinger nor the man in black knew it would be the last time they saw Phinneas in person (he never told anyone that he had been diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer 5 months ago), but they nonetheless knew that this competition would be a fair fight. They might not trust each other anywhere else, but this time, for these stakes, they did.

Not surprisingly, both parties took a very different path. The CMEslinger, being a technology geek, invested a good chunk of his dollars in VR technology and scientific programmers, promising every attendee a chance to latch on a headset to see on a molecular level how the latest therapeutic breakthrough worked. The man in black scoffed at these methods, instead relying on the old school approach of securing the biggest name faculty in the industry to man the stage as well as a detailed promotional plan with multiple waves of print and electronic announcements.

As Phinneas always said, “What’s newer ain’t always better. Except when it is.”

The clock ticked toward 5 pm when the symposium rooms would open to the public, but neither man broke a sweat. This was the moment that would define their careers, the moment to prove once and for all who was the King of CME.

What they didn’t know was that Phinneas had one last surprise in store for them both.

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

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

And now, our latest segment:

Part 5 (Derek)
An amused smirk played across the man in black’s lips.

“I’ll give you this, CMEslinger, you always were the resilient one. Dumb as a ewe in heat, but resilient.”

The man in black heard the CMEslinger scoff at the other end of the line.

“I admit it took me longer than it should have to figure out your plan. Aunt Betty deserves an Oscar for her performance. But you got a little too clever trying to reuse one of your old proposals. You did a decent job editing out most of your trademark elements, but you couldn’t hide them all. Plus, you just couldn’t resist including two spaces after all the periods and openly mocking me with your blatant disregard of the Oxford comma. You might just as well have written ‘The man in black was here’ at the top of every page. You also forgot that I spent every weekend and summer day from junior high school thru college working at my grandpa Landis’s auto repair shop. It only took me about 15 minutes of tinkering to have the Wrangler humming like new. Now get your butt down here and let’s get to it!”

Cursing Grandpa Landis under his breath, the man in black hung up the phone, slipped his shoes back on, and headed for the elevator. He punched the button for the lobby and calmly waited as the elevator descended.

A minute later, the elevator doors slid open at the lobby level to reveal the CMEslinger standing directly in front of the doors, legs shoulder width apart, arms akimbo, waiting. As the man in black took a step out of the elevator, the two old-friends-now-bitter-rivals surveyed each other from head to toe.

“For Phinneas’s sake,” snorted the CMEslinger. “This is a conference, not a funeral. Would it kill you to lighten up your wardrobe a bit? Maybe work in some navy blue?”

The man in black narrowed his eyes but maintained his usual smirk.

“Very clever, Ralph Lauren. You’ll have to pardon me for not taking sartorial advice from a man in chaps and a neckerchief. Now, are we going to stand around here gabbing about the latest fashion trends or are we going to get to work?”

The CMEslinger didn’t respond immediately, but held the man in black’s gaze.

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Good. Let’s find Marge.”

It had been Phinneas’s idea and it was Phinneas who had made all the arrangements. He had given up all attempts at a reconciliation between his two former protégés and had finally agreed to their request for an ultimate showdown. It was the last thing he did before passing on.

The concept was brilliant in its simplicity. Two competing satellite symposia at the largest medical conference in the world. Whoever has the most attendees at their symposium is the winner. The loser agrees to leave the world of CME forever.

They had both agreed to the rules. And they had both agreed that Marge was in charge.

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).