A long time ago I watched this episode of STAR TREK:THE NEXT GENERATION in which everyone on a certain planet was required to commit suicide on their sixtieth birthday. The scientist in this episode took off on the Enterprise to see if his lifelong work would succeed. It didn't, and it appeared that he knew what was wrong, but he had to go back home. His sixtieth birthday was approaching. During his stay on Enterprise, he fell in love with Deanna Troi's mother ( I forget her name) and she tried to get him to stay on board ship, but his daughter called and shamed him into returning. I was ten years younger then than I am now, and I thought that was a big loss. All of this scientist's experimentation would die with him. Why couldn't he at least teach others about what he had done so far?
The way I understand it, the idea of each generation's NOT having to start over is called corporate memory. Things work more smoothly if there is someone around who knows what they are doing. At the Catholic school where I worked in Ohio, there was a great deal of turnover. The year we moved, they lost four out of six teachers on the junior high floor. Only one of the teachers who was left really knew her stuff, and she just knew sixth grade stuff, not seventh or eighth grade stuff. My teaching partner and I wondered what would happen to all the "traditions" when the people who knew about them were gone.
My local school system, in its not-so-infinite wisdom, decided to fire everyone who was not a teacher and make them interview to get rehired. At a lower rate. Needless to say, many of them were irritated and sought jobs elsewhere. As a result, there is no one left at the junior high where I work who knows how to schedule including the principal, who just moved up from elementary. Welcome to chaos! None of the teachers are looking forward to school's starting.
Today, I had another encounter with what I consider a lack of corporate memory. I called my health insurance company. What I wanted was to know how my arthritis treatment is covered under my husband's health insurance, which right now is my secondary insurance. That will change come October 1, and I wanted a pre-determination. Note the prefix pre. Before October 1.
First I called the company that handles prescriptions, but they said that Remicade, the drug I take, is called a specialty drug and I had to call my insurance company as it would probably be covered under major medical. So I did.
The insurance company told me that I would have a 20% co-pay subject to my deductible. I knew that. What I wanted to know was if the treatment, called an infusion, was covered at all, but when I tried to explain that, the young man at the other end of the line interrupted me and told me to let him finish. He told me I had to call benefits.
OK, fine. I went back to the number on the insurance card and tried to navigate through the phone menu, but none of the options were benefits, and all of them took me back to someone in Customer Service, which is where I started. Maybe they were getting annoyed with that. I know I was. I finally lost it and yelled at the girl on the other end of the line. I told her that I had a degree, that I was not an idiot, that I could read the benefits card and I understood deductibles, I just could not seem to navigate through their voice-mail options and if she could not help me, she ought to connect me with someone who could. I was mad. And teary because I was frustrated, which made me even madder.
This all started out with a simple question, really. My doctor had told me that my insurance company changed Remicade from a Tier II to a Tier II drug, which meant it had a 40% co-pay instead of a 20% co-pay. All I wanted to know was if that was the case and if it was, would it be cheaper for me to switch to Enbrel, which is the same class of drug but might cost less since I would inject it myself instead of receiving it intravenously. And I wanted to know now, before Oct. 1. because 40% of my $6000 treatment every eight weeks is a lot of money.
It just seems to me that there is no corporate memory. The people in benefits only know what the benefits card says, and since I can read it, what help are they? The people in customer service know less. And it wasn't just me that got the run-around. The reason I called was because my doctor had tried and been told that no determination would be made before my husband's insurance was primary, and he thought I would have better luck. I told the girl I ranted at about that, too. If they wouldn't tell my doctor and they wouldn't tell me, who would they tell? Do they even know anything to tell?
I finally ended up with a woman in pre-approval because the one I screamed at transferred me. She was very apologetic, but she said she could not help me until October 1. No pre anything for me, I guess! She did at least give me a plan to follow on that date. I hope it works.
Why is it easier for companies to have a bunch of employees who aren't paid very much and don't know very much instead of a few less who know a lot about their job? How can you work around one part of a job and not know about others? How did we get so compartmentalized in the first place? And where will it all lead?
The way I understand it, the idea of each generation's NOT having to start over is called corporate memory. Things work more smoothly if there is someone around who knows what they are doing. At the Catholic school where I worked in Ohio, there was a great deal of turnover. The year we moved, they lost four out of six teachers on the junior high floor. Only one of the teachers who was left really knew her stuff, and she just knew sixth grade stuff, not seventh or eighth grade stuff. My teaching partner and I wondered what would happen to all the "traditions" when the people who knew about them were gone.
My local school system, in its not-so-infinite wisdom, decided to fire everyone who was not a teacher and make them interview to get rehired. At a lower rate. Needless to say, many of them were irritated and sought jobs elsewhere. As a result, there is no one left at the junior high where I work who knows how to schedule including the principal, who just moved up from elementary. Welcome to chaos! None of the teachers are looking forward to school's starting.
Today, I had another encounter with what I consider a lack of corporate memory. I called my health insurance company. What I wanted was to know how my arthritis treatment is covered under my husband's health insurance, which right now is my secondary insurance. That will change come October 1, and I wanted a pre-determination. Note the prefix pre. Before October 1.
First I called the company that handles prescriptions, but they said that Remicade, the drug I take, is called a specialty drug and I had to call my insurance company as it would probably be covered under major medical. So I did.
The insurance company told me that I would have a 20% co-pay subject to my deductible. I knew that. What I wanted to know was if the treatment, called an infusion, was covered at all, but when I tried to explain that, the young man at the other end of the line interrupted me and told me to let him finish. He told me I had to call benefits.
OK, fine. I went back to the number on the insurance card and tried to navigate through the phone menu, but none of the options were benefits, and all of them took me back to someone in Customer Service, which is where I started. Maybe they were getting annoyed with that. I know I was. I finally lost it and yelled at the girl on the other end of the line. I told her that I had a degree, that I was not an idiot, that I could read the benefits card and I understood deductibles, I just could not seem to navigate through their voice-mail options and if she could not help me, she ought to connect me with someone who could. I was mad. And teary because I was frustrated, which made me even madder.
This all started out with a simple question, really. My doctor had told me that my insurance company changed Remicade from a Tier II to a Tier II drug, which meant it had a 40% co-pay instead of a 20% co-pay. All I wanted to know was if that was the case and if it was, would it be cheaper for me to switch to Enbrel, which is the same class of drug but might cost less since I would inject it myself instead of receiving it intravenously. And I wanted to know now, before Oct. 1. because 40% of my $6000 treatment every eight weeks is a lot of money.
It just seems to me that there is no corporate memory. The people in benefits only know what the benefits card says, and since I can read it, what help are they? The people in customer service know less. And it wasn't just me that got the run-around. The reason I called was because my doctor had tried and been told that no determination would be made before my husband's insurance was primary, and he thought I would have better luck. I told the girl I ranted at about that, too. If they wouldn't tell my doctor and they wouldn't tell me, who would they tell? Do they even know anything to tell?
I finally ended up with a woman in pre-approval because the one I screamed at transferred me. She was very apologetic, but she said she could not help me until October 1. No pre anything for me, I guess! She did at least give me a plan to follow on that date. I hope it works.
Why is it easier for companies to have a bunch of employees who aren't paid very much and don't know very much instead of a few less who know a lot about their job? How can you work around one part of a job and not know about others? How did we get so compartmentalized in the first place? And where will it all lead?
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