The Case of the 100 Angry Vendors

Dale Dooley was having what his therapist might call “an opportunity for growth.” His matcha latte—the last line of defense between sanity and chaos—had gone cold, and his ergonomic chair was offering minimal support as he slumped over his cluttered desk.

“We’ll get through this,” he muttered, eyeing the mountain of paperwork spilling across his workspace. “…someday…hopefully.”

PharmaPlus Inc. had once seemed like a dream job, but it had turned into something resembling a circus—with Dale as the reluctant ringmaster. As the manager of vendor operations for a pharmaceutical company, he was responsible for coordinating clinical trial data, regulatory forms, and sensitive patient reports from over a hundred vendors, labs, and external partners. Each one needed his attention, every document needed review, and every deadline was treated like a ticking time bomb.

The problem? The compliance and cybersecurity teams had locked down the company’s data tighter than a submarine, thanks to strict regulatory guidelines and HIPAA privacy rules. Any external file-sharing app was “too risky,” and vendors couldn’t access internal systems, which left Dale to manage heaps of critical documents—trial protocols, participant consent forms, lab results—with nothing but a patchwork paper-based process, a fax machine, a scanner, and the help of a team of interns who had never even seen a fax machine before.

The partners and vendors were frustrated. Each had their own horror story about trying to send in signed contracts, updated lab results, or clinical protocol changes. With strict deadlines and heavy oversight, they couldn’t afford delays, but navigating PharmaPlus’s cobbled-together system was like pulling teeth. One exasperated vendor even resorted to shipping physical paperwork via courier, “just so it’ll actually get where it’s going.” Dale’s inbox overflowed with increasingly frantic emails: “Is our document approved?” “Where did our report end up?” “Do you have a tracking number for that package?”

He sighed, glancing at the gaggle of interns across the hall, who were attempting to label several dozen vendor folders.

“Alright, team,” Dale said, mustering his last reserves of patience as he walked over. “Can we keep the patient forms separate from the test results? And, uh, maybe put a label on each folder that makes sense? And obviously scan them all and create virtual folders for each case”

One of the interns, looking a little lost, raised a hand. “Which ones are the patient forms again?”

Dale fought back a groan. “The ones with… you know, actual names and patient information.”

“Oh… I thought those were the contracts.”

“They’re not.” He rubbed his temples. “Just… maybe set those aside. I’ll get to them later.”

As Dale walked back to his desk, he nearly collided with Lisa Malone, the new IT manager, who had been watching the chaos with a mix of pity and concern.

“Is that… a fax machine?” she asked, glancing at the outdated relic in the corner of his office.

“Yes, it’s… vintage,” Dale replied, trying to make a feeble joke. “And still necessary.”

“I have a better idea,” she replied. She set a tablet on his desk. “Let’s bring you into the twenty-first century. This”—she tapped the screen—“is Box. It’s a secure cloud platform. With this, you can set up tailored online hubs for each vendor. They can upload, access, and manage all the relevant documents—no more faxing required.”

Dale perked up. “Impressive but that’s only half of the problem. We need to track each submission and get all the approvals on our end.”

“It can be done,” Lisa replied. “You can set automated workflows to fast-track approvals. Vendors can submit contracts, test data, and regulatory forms for signatures all in one place. Metadata tagging will keep everything organized and allow automatic creation of folders for each vendor and project, and sensitive files will be classified so they don’t get shared accidentally. It’s foolproof. And from now on your database will be cloud-first”

Dale blinked. “So, you’re saying no more actual paper and folders?”

Lisa smirked. “Yeah, you’ll have to keep your love for vintage out of the workplace.”

Dale persisted. “But can it handle PII/PHI and other sensitive data? That's the first thing the cyber and compliance teams will ask”

Lisa nodded confidently. “I already got their approval. We will be able to check all the compliance and security boxes... finally.”

The transformation began. Vendors suddenly stopped calling Dale’s line with urgent questions. Instead, they used their collaboration hubs, uploading sensitive trial data, test results, and signed contracts directly to PharmaPlus via secure File Request portals. Approvals moved smoothly as automated notifications alerted the appropriate team members when it was time to sign off. The interns, now liberated, handled more rewarding tasks while Dale kept a calm watch over operations, his desk finally clear of chaotic stacks.

The nice bonus was that Dale could finally cancel a ton of subscriptions for now redundant file sharing, project management, e-signature, and online storage software - not that they had been working well anyway.”

One morning, Linda from Compliance stopped by his office, her usual stern expression replaced by something bordering on pleasant.

“Dale,” she said, tapping her fingers against the doorframe, “I haven’t had to file a single compliance violation report in two weeks. That’s a new record.”

“Don’t act so surprised!” Dale replied with a grin. “But I’ll take it.”

By the following Monday, Dale’s boss dropped by for his weekly check-in, likely expecting the usual chaos. Instead, he found Dale sipping a hot—actually hot—matcha latte, his desk blissfully clear, and his inbox nearly empty.

“Everything seems… calm,” his boss observed, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Amazing what happens when you bring an office into the twenty-first century,” Dale replied, barely able to suppress a smirk.

His boss raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you are doing here, we’re going to stay on budget with this, right?”

“Better,” Dale said, leaning back with newfound ease. “We might actually come in under. And I’m not even talking about saving on paper and shipping.”

As his boss left, Dale could have sworn he heard a faint sigh from the closet—the last whispers of the forgotten fax machine.

Disclaimer: For this and other stories, I refer to a real use case we helped our customer solve. Names have been changed to protect privacy. A little bit of dramatic tension and suspense added because fall is the best time for true crime and mysteries.

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