At 6:12 on Monday morning, Mara’s phone rang while she was counting the cash for her father’s home aide.
“Your driver’s at the wrong entrance,” said a voice from the hospital.
“He’s coming around.”
“We were told six.”
Mara looked at the contract beside her. The hospital had promised enough work to cover the wages of four drivers, provided she kept two vehicles available throughout the day. For nine years, her Pittsburgh courier company had survived on smaller jobs from clinics, dentists, and pharmacies. Some days were busy. Some were frighteningly quiet.
By noon, the hospital had made six requests. Mara had turned down three regular customers.
Her dispatcher, Jo, watched another clinic name appear on the screen. “I can take it in my car.”
“You’re already covering the north route.”
“It’s Dr. Singh.”
Mara knew. When her first van broke down, he had waited two hours for a specimen pickup without charging her the cost of a replacement courier. But the hospital tracked missed requests, and one more could put the contract at risk.
“Tell him we can’t do today,” she said.
That evening, Jo left without their usual argument about the radio. Mara called Dr. Singh herself. He was polite. He had found someone else.
Over the next month, the hospital work was steady. Mara paid the drivers on time and stopped moving money between accounts on Thursday nights. Then the hospital asked for coverage on Saturdays. The rate would stay the same.
Jo set the request on Mara’s desk. “They’re filling every space we have.”
Mara wanted to disagree. Instead, she opened the calendar. Her father’s aide was due a raise; the oldest van needed tires. She told Jo to ask the hospital for a higher rate.
While they waited for an answer, Dr. Singh’s new courier van passed the office window. Mara recognized the driver. They had applied to work for her in April.
The Anchored Client
