Hello diary. My name is Gilt Racked, and I work as a medical writer for a company called Medbribe. You’ve probably heard of us. We’re only the largest web portal and CME provider in the U.S.—but who’s bragging?
I’ve been having strange feelings lately. Mainly at work. I don’t know what to make of them, but I hope writing in this diary will help.
So hello diary.
I took the subway into work today, and the first thing I heard when I walked into my office was the very loud voice of my boss, Mr. Grant.
“Gilt?!!!” he yelled, menacingly.
“Yes Mr. Grant?”
“I just got a call from Ransom Pharmaceuticals. They are not happy!”
“I GOT A CALL FROM RANSOM!!!!”
“Did you say Janssen?”
“NOT JANSSEN! I SAID RANSOM!!!”
It was hard to hear him because he was on the other side of the Glassdoor. You see, the ACCME came up with this new policy saying that Medbribe’s advertising department had to be separate from our CME department. One day, management installed a Glassdoor between the departments to maintain compliance with the new regulation. It’s a little annoying. My voice has gotten awfully hoarse lately.
Anyway, Mr. Grant told me to read the latest issue of BusinessDay, saying that we had gotten burned by that “infernal do-gooder,” Dr. Care-a-lot, again.
“And guess what, Gilt: It’s your fault!”
“Wait boss,” I protested. “I don’t get it.”
“Aren’t you the one who wrote that article on Ransom’s antidepressant, Inveigle?”
“Actually, it’s an antipsychotic.”
“Whatever it is!”
“Yep, that was my assignment.”
“Sweet. Then maybe you can explain why Ransom’s educational grant guy just chewed me out for the last half hour. He said the article was too obvious. Said you used only one case, and that the multiple choice questions all led to Inveigle.”
I thought for a moment. I remember having had a "through-the-Glassdoor" meeting with marketing two weeks earlier. Some guy in sales came up with the idea of making up a case of a patient with schizophrenia and liver disease. He said a Ransom exec had told him this was the best way to highlight Inveigle.
“But I was just following instructions, boss.”
“INSTRUCTIONS?!!! Can’t you see this door! I don't give you instructions, remember? You’re CME, I’m marketing.”
I think Mr. Grant could see the sweat on my forehead.
“All right Gilt. Settle down. It’s not a big deal. Just…show me the damn article next time before you post it to the site. Or better yet, give someone at Ransom a call…a call, mind you, remember we don’t email anymore…and run it by them before posting it.”
“I’m just saying, Ransom pays us $100,000 for each of these little articles, and our job is to make sure they get a return on their investment, minus the PR headaches. Got it, Gilt?”
“All right, boss.”
“Read our mission statement before you get started on that Lire project.”
“I will, boss.”
I swiveled my chair around to face our five-point Medbribe Mission Statement.
1. Another Day, Another Million.
2. Our Customer’s Message drives our Mission.
3. Stock Options Matter.
4. Keep your HG’s Happy.
5. We are Medbribe. We are CME.
I sighed, and turned on my computer. Lire has a new drug for ADHD. I had to come up with a case to highlight it. But not too obvious this time. Got it: how about a guy who has comorbid bipolar disorder. First we get him treated with Seroquel or something, some therapeutic class that Lire doesn’t compete in. This unmasks his ADHD and then we treat him with Lire’s new drug, Lievanse. I felt good about this one, and finished it lickety-split. I sent it off to the HG (Hired Gun) on the project by the end of the day. I knew this doctor--he would sign off on it right away for his $2000 honorarium.
Oh, diary, I think I’m really good at this job. I hope I don't disappoint Mr. Grant this time!
(To be continued....)