My job is to make sure your surgery center never gets built.
Eleven years, and I have never lost.
The kid had it all lined up. Board-certified, two partners, a lease on a space where he could do the same procedures my client does across town. He showed up to the hearing with a slide deck and patient testimonials.
Adorable.
I did not bring a deck.
I brought one sentence.
“This facility is not necessary.”
That is the whole game.
In this town, you cannot pour a foundation until a board agrees the community “needs” the place. The people who get to argue that you are not needed are the incumbents who would lose the business.
My client gets a seat at the table where his own competition is approved or killed.
I have sat in that chair for eleven years.
I have never once said yes.
The kid drained himself dry to file.
The application alone is the moat: thick, slow, and expensive enough to stop most physicians before they ever reach a vote.
He cleared it anyway, which I respected, right up until I buried him in it.
We said “duplication of services.”
We said “protecting the safety net.”
Language that tested well in 1974 and continues to test well today.
The board tabled him for review.
Review became a year.
The year became a withdrawn lease, and three physicians quietly returned to working for the health system.
You want to know what we were actually protecting?
A physician down the street doing the same procedure for less. Medicare pays us more. Which means commercial pays more. I don’t share.
That is the threat.
Everything else on the record, the duplication, the waste, the safety net, we wrote for the transcript.
Patients kept paying more.
My client called it a win.
I bought a boat last spring.
I named her Certificate of Need.