Ash's Workplace Mini-Lesson

"If you want more people to seek your treatment, shouldn't you put some effort into your appearance?"

Inside the Treatment Room, Ash looked at the Healer wearing a Raven Mask, feeling a bit puzzled. "With you dressed like this, people would be lucky not to suspect you of robbery or proselytizing, let alone ask for treatment. Or is this some kind of meaningless tradition?"

"It is a tradition, and it is meaningful," the Healer said. "Think about it. If... in the unlikely event... that something goes wrong during your treatment and you wake up to find some parts missing, would you dare to attack me if you saw me looking like this?"

"Probably not."

"Exactly."

The two stared at each other, and Ash suddenly realized. "So, such terrifying attire and this eerie treatment room environment are all tools used to improve the doctor-patient relationship... Wait, does that mean the probability of your treatment going wrong is quite high?"

"It's not that high, just a tiny bit of a possibility..." The Healer spoke vaguely, not even daring to look at Ash. It seemed that this "tiny bit" was roughly the size of the galaxy.

Ash remarked, "Your service attitude is problematic. You surely don't have many patients outside, right? You were probably even accused by patients of not treating them well enough, which is why you had to hide in the Prison to grind experience on us inmates who have no way to file complaints?"

The Healer lowered her head in shame; it was clear Ash had hit the nail on the head. She defended herself in a low voice, "I clearly cured them, but they still went around complaining and making trouble. And some problems had nothing to do with me; they caused them themselves... I was only providing the most basic essential treatment, yet they had so many demands..."

As if broken by Ash, the Healer treated him like a Trash Can, pouring out all her negative emotions. To Ash, her story sounded like she deserved it: in an era where most healers charged a fee, she didn't ask for a penny and was even willing to make house calls. As a result, patients complained that her treatment wasn't good enough, so she couldn't survive in the city and had to come to the Prison to farm experience points.

After listening, Ash thought for a moment and asked, "Do you know what your shortcoming is?"

"I know, my skills aren't refined enough..."

"It's that you aren't assertive enough when you speak!"

"Huh?" The Healer raised her head, her eyes behind the Raven Mask full of confusion.

"You sound so timid and lack confidence. If a medical accident happens, patients will definitely give you trouble. Even if you don't charge them, you'll still be walked all over," Ash instructed. "Let me teach you: when you say you might not be able to cure an illness, your voice must be loud, your back must be straight, and you must say it with a confident and proud attitude."

"And that's just the first step. The second step is to find the patient's flaws. If the patient is good-looking, say their lifestyle is too promiscuous; if they are ugly, say they have no sex life; if they are thin, say they are malnourished; if they are fat, say they are overnourished. There is always a criticism that fits. No one is perfect; you can definitely find something to suppress the patient."

"As long as you do these two steps, you can establish your authority, suppress the patient's status, and create an atmosphere where 'you should be grateful that I am willing to treat you.' Even if something goes wrong with the treatment, the patient won't blame you; they might even turn around and make excuses for you."

The Healer asked, "Is it really effective?"

"It really is!" Ash nodded heavily. "This is from my many years of personal experience!"

Ash was very familiar with this kind of workplace PUA—first pick bones out of an egg to suppress the other party's shortcomings, then release your own kindness, and you can make the other party feel grateful as if they had Stockholm Syndrome. University Students who had just graduated could hardly resist such tactics.

Using this forbidden technique in the workplace should naturally lead to being dragged out to the firing squad, but as the saying goes, weapons are neither good nor evil; it all depends on the heart. For a volunteer like the Healer who was willing to provide free medical care, even if there were minor side effects, Ash felt she should be allowed to make her career path a little easier.

"So, do you know what to do now?"

"What should I do?"

"From now on, no matter what surgery you finish, you must say to the patient: 'I have done my best!'"

"I have done my best."

"Louder, I can't hear you!"

"I have done my best!" the Healer said, clenching her fists.

Ash nodded with satisfaction. "You can figure out the rest slowly. I should go eat now..."

The Healer remained in deep thought. Just as Ash finished putting on his shoes and prepared to leave, she suddenly stopped him and asked, "Are you really not planning to get plastic surgery? Look at the face in the Mirror; don't you feel that walking out into the public like this is actually disrespectful to others?"

Ash's body shook, his eyes filled with the gratification of seeing someone teachable—good heavens, she just learned the skill and immediately used it on her teacher!?

If she joined our company, she would at least be a Team Leader-level powerhouse!

"Isn't it that there's no harm without comparison? Compared to your ugly Raven face, I suddenly feel I'm quite handsome. Next time, next time I feel I've become ugly, I'll come to you for surgery," Ash said dismissively.

"I'm not ugly, you're the ugly one!" The Healer was so angry she wanted to take off her mask, but as soon as her hand touched the Raven Mask, she heard footsteps upstairs.

She suddenly remembered something. "Right, Ash, take this."

A Nameplate was shoved into Ash's hand, with [222] written on it.

"What is this?"

The Healer said, "My ID tag. Remember to carry it every minute of every day, even when sleeping, so everyone knows you are my person."

Ash blinked. "So, what race are you? Are you a GG or an MM? Although I am a very casual person, if your conditions exceed my bottom line, I will have to charge extra..."

"You aren't getting surgery, so if you walk out, you'll definitely scare others into fighting you to the death seven or eight times. If you carry my ID tag, when you get beaten into minced meat later, I can have priority treatment rights. If your face is ruined, I can also help you with plastic surgery while I'm at it." The Healer pushed him out. "Alright, go eat quickly, the cafeteria is about to close..."

Ash thought for a moment, put the Nameplate in his pocket, and suddenly asked, "By the way, if I come next time, can you help me cut an apple?"

The Healer was stunned. "Sure."

Good, objective achieved.

Don't think Ash was being bored; this was his secret to workplace socializing—letting others help you with trivial matters is a shortcut to building a relationship. The "feeling of being needed" is a high-level emotional need, and Ash relied on this trick to get the most votes in the "Top Ten Employees" poll, successfully winning an extra 6 months of bonuses.

"Let's eat together when you're free. I'll be going now," Ash said. "[222], see you next time... almost forgot to say, thank you."

"If you want to thank me, let me help you with plastic surgery—"

"Next time, definitely next time!"

After Ash left, the Healer continued to organize the tools in the Treatment Room.

Suddenly, another door opened. A tall Healer walked in, looked at the Healer, and said sternly, "Why are you still staying here?"

The Healer glanced at his work badge; it was [176].

That's right, not only did the Death Row Inmates not know who was who among the healers, but even the healers themselves didn't know each other's identities. Except in their own quarters, they had to wear the Raven Mask in any public setting, identifying each other only by their nameplates.

"A patient just woke up, so I was delayed a bit. I gave him my nameplate and scheduled his future treatments."

"You didn't chat with him, did you?"

The tall Healer's tone turned serious.

"You know that communicating with prisoners is a violation of the rules; our identities must be kept strictly confidential. If word got out that we were performing rituals here, the Human Rights Association would tear the Parliament apart..."

"I know." The Healer beneath the Raven Mask stuck out her tongue.

"Then hurry back to your room. The 11-inch Blood Art Thesis is due before the weekend, don't forget." The tall Healer said sternly, "Don't think that just because you have a little talent you can be lazy. If it weren't for the Team Leader's permission, you wouldn't even be qualified to be here..."

In the past, the Healer would have been terrified and reflecting on herself in the face of her senior's criticism, but after chatting with Ash, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

Is my senior intentionally criticizing my imperfections to establish his authority and suppress my status? The fact that I got in through the Team Leader's favor is something I can't change, and it has nothing to do with my skills, yet he can always use that to criticize me.

Listening to the tall Healer's vapid remarks, the Healer missed Ash, who spoke so pleasantly, more and more.

Come to think of it, Ash's physical recovery seemed much stronger than that of the average Body Art practitioner; the sensation during treatment was truly excellent...

I really hope Ash gets beaten to the brink of death again soon, the Healer thought.