American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

Spring 1983. New Jersey. Dr. Miller's private practice.

The waiting room smelled of disinfectant and old magazines. Miller, a dermatologist, was under a lot of stress lately because of his mortgage, and his hairline had receded slightly.

"Next," he muttered, expecting another teenager with a face full of acne.

But it was Katie who came in.

Today she was wearing a high-quality replica Chanel suit and carrying a leather briefcase.

"Dr. Miller," she smiled, placing a small booklet with a velvet cover on his desk. It looked like a passport, but the cover bore the silver logo of Walter Pharmaceuticals.

"What's this?" Dr. Miller stared at the booklet. "Another brochure?"

"Open it," Katie leaned closer, her voice low.

Miller turned to the first page.

Current points balance: 5,400 points.

"Points?" Miller frowned.

“Every prescription of Waterproduce that you write earns you 100 points,” Katie explained. “We track it automatically through the pharmacy network. You don’t need to fill out any forms. Just… enjoy the rewards.”

She turned to the middle of the booklet, to the table of contents.

1000 units: A set of Titleist golf clubs.

5000 points: Weekend trip for two to the Hamptons (all-inclusive).

10000 points: Two first-class tickets to Hawaii.

50000 points: a Rolex Submariner.

Miller's gaze lingered on the Hawaii plane tickets. His wife had been nagging him about going on vacation for two years. But considering the children's private school tuition...

"Is this... legal?" Miller asked, his voice involuntarily becoming softer.

"Legal?" Katie chuckled. "Doctor, this isn't a bribe. We call it a customer loyalty program. It's like the frequent flyer miles you accumulate on Pan Am. We're simply rewarding our partners for their hard work."

She sensed his wavering. She pushed the booklet closer.

"You already have 5,400 points, Doctor. That's enough to get you to the Hamptons. But if you can get ten anxiety patients switched from Roche to Waters this week... you could be lying on a Maui beach by Christmas."

Miller swallowed hard. He glanced at the picture of the palm tree, then looked at his prescription.

"Ten patients?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Just ten." Katie blinked.

......

Water Pharmaceuticals.

Victor Corleone stands in front of a detailed map of New Jersey.

Each clinic was marked with colorful pins. An index card was attached to each pin.

Saul Goodman is reading one of the images aloud.

"Dr. Arnie. Englewood District. Loves fishing. Hates his mother-in-law. Has a gambling debt in Atlantic City."

"Send him a catalog of fishing gear," Victor ordered, "and offer to pay for his trip to Atlantic City next month for a conference."

"Understood," Saul jotted down notes quickly. "And Dr. Cohen? He's a tough guy. He refused all gifts. He said he's a scientist, not a businessman."

"Ah, gentlemen," Victor sneered, "they are the most expensive. But also the most useful."

"Money insults them, Saul. They have self-respect. They want respect. They want to be seen as opinion leaders."

"so?"

“So, we’re giving them a stage,” Victor turned around, “we’re sponsoring a series of pain management seminars. The venue is the Four Seasons Hotel. We’ve invited Dr. Cohen to be the keynote speaker.”

"The speaker?" Saul looked puzzled. "But he knows nothing about our drug."

"He doesn't need to know. He just needs to read from the slides we prepared. We pay him $2000 a 'speaking fee' for 30 minutes. We cover his airfare, hotel, and meals. We call it 'academic exchange'."

Saul whistled. "This... is genius. It's a bribe, but with a PhD."

“This isn’t bribery, Saul,” Victor corrected him. “It’s consultation. We’re buying their time. Their valuable, expert time.”

......

Three months later. Philadelphia, Four Seasons Hotel.

The banquet hall was bathed in soft golden light. Crystal glasses clinked crisply. Waitstaff in tuxedos moved through the crowd carrying champagne and caviar.

The banner above the stage read: 1983 East Coast Pain Management Symposium. Sponsor: Water Pharmaceuticals.

Dr. Cohen stood on the podium. He was beaming, partly from the red wine and partly from the applause. He had just finished a lecture on "The Inadequacy of Anxiety Treatment in Modern Medicine".

"That's why," Dr. Cohen concluded, his eyes fixed on the teleprompter, "new drug delivery systems like micropellets are not just innovations; they are ethical imperatives. It is our responsibility to alleviate the suffering of our patients."

Thunderous applause.

Victor stood in the back row, drinking sparkling wine.

Katie walked over. She was dressed in an evening gown, looking radiant, and holding a glass of champagne.

"He's right," she whispered.

“He’s expensive,” Victor replied, “but it’s worth it.”

"There are 200 doctors here tonight," Katie said, glancing around the room. "I've already sent out 50 sample kits. And... Dr. Miller just asked me if I could cash out the points from my Hawaii trip."

“Tell him no,” Victor said. “We’re going to send him on a trip. When he’s traveling, he’ll feel guilty and remorseful, thinking how much better it would be if he had money! That way he’ll get more medication to make up for it.”

He looked at the crowd. Doctors, these gatekeepers of health, were laughing, drinking, socializing. They felt important. They felt respected.

And in their pockets, right next to the stethoscope, were Water Pharmaceuticals' loyalty cards.

"Do you know what this is, Katie?" Victor pointed to the room.

"A party?"

“No. This is a church,” Victor’s eyes deepened, “and we just converted them all.”

On a large screen behind the stage, a chart displayed Water's stable market share.

15%

Roche's red line is declining. Walter's blue line is rising like a cobra poised to strike.

"By the way," Victor asked, "has the invitation letter to Dr. Portner of the American Association for the Study of Pain been sent out?"

"I sent it," Katie nodded. "He hasn't replied yet."

“He’ll get back to you,” Victor laughed. “Everyone has a price. Some people want a ticket to Hawaii. Some people want to rewrite medical history. We just need to figure out what currency he’s accepting.”

"Do you have time after the meeting, boss?"

"What's wrong? Your schedule shouldn't be full."

"How about...we start a game?!"