You probably never heard of Gilby, North Dakota, population 226. Edith Johnson, 56, worked as a teller in the town's bank, which, somewhat surprisingly, has been robbed three times. Edith was in the bank during two of the robberies. The last one was especially traumatic: she was handcuffed and placed face down on the floor with a sawed off shotgun pressed against her head. After this incident, she became too afraid to return to her job. Diagnosed with post-traumatic stress syndrome, she filed for workers comp. The claim was denied. North Dakota, like many other states, will pay a "mental" claim only if it is precipitated by a physical injury.
Edith has an attorney and is appealing the denial of her claim. Given the way the law is written, she is unlikely to prevail.
The irony, of course, is that with just a bit of coaching at the time of the incident, it would have been easy for Edith to collect comp. All she would have had to do is complain about a pain in her wrist and shoulder, caused by the handcuffs and the awkward position on the floor. Even without objective medical evidence, these physical complaints would have opened the door to her claim of post-traumatic stress.
Coming from a small town and working as a bank teller, Edith is undoubtedly the soul of rectitude. She is not about to tell a lie. Unfortunately, she is up against the letter of the law, which, in North Dakota, is very clear. Workers Safety and Insurance director Bryan Klipfel explains the denial: "A post-traumatic stress disorder that is directly related to a physical workplace injury may be compensable if it can be shown that it was primarily caused by the physical work injury, as opposed to all other contributing causes."
Letter and Spirit
Edith's dilemma reminds me of the scene in the immortal Marx Brothers movie, "A Night at the Opera." Groucho (Otis. B. Driftwood) and Chico (Fiorello) are discussing the proposed language of a contract. Every time Chico objects, Groucho tears the page from the contract.
Fiorello: Hey, wait, wait. What does this say here, this thing here?
Driftwood: Oh, that? Oh, that's the usual clause that's in every contract. That just says, uh, it says, uh, if any of the parties participating in this contract are shown not to be in their right mind, the entire agreement is automatically nullified.
Fiorello: Well, I don't know...
Driftwood: It's all right. That's, that's in every contract. That's, that's what they call a sanity clause.
Fiorello: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You can't fool me. There ain't no Sanity Clause!
With that impeccable logic, the Insider wishes the beleagured Edith and the citizens of Gilby all the best and we bid our readers a splendid holiday. Every week we try to invoke the "sanity clause" in risk management and workers comp. It's not always easy. We sincerely hope that Santa - whether or not he exists - rewards you for all the good that you have done this year.