Carol Altmann – The Terrier

I have been asking this question for several months now, but what has Lyndoch Living got to hide?

The latest act of apparent paranoia is a blanket rejection of everyone who recently applied to become members of Lyndoch.

Not one person, it seems, made the cut.

Let’s be honest, my application was never going to be accepted, despite my own personal connection with Lyndoch as someone who had a parent in its care for 10 years, because I have made it clear through The Terrier that I intend to dig deep into its priorities, direction and its care for staff and residents.

But others have been rejected too.

In fact, from what I am hearing, those who had their applications rejected include a local GP, a retired business journalist, a former high school maths teacher, a former international school librarian, a former small business owner…

According to the Lyndoch board, not one of these people was considered up to scratch.

I am not sure what selection process was used, as the board is under no obligation to give its reasons for saying ‘no’, but the fact every single application was rejected suggests that there was no process.

Instead, it was most likely based on whether the applicant knew me, or liked The Terrier on Facebook, or commented on a story, because Lyndoch doesn’t want anyone creeping into the tent who may make life uncomfortable by asking tricky questions, or, heaven forbid, stand for the board.

That would mean a loss of control, and control, in the current climate at Lyndoch, is everything.

What we should have is a fully transparent organisation with a broad cross section of members – the more, the merrier – because Lyndoch is owned by the local community.

I will say it again: the community owns Lyndoch, not the small group of people who are now refusing to let anybody else in the door unless, it seems, they are hand-picked.

As it stands, there are just 16 members of Lyndoch, including the nine-member board, the CEO, some senior executive staff and a couple of life members.

This might be perfectly acceptable if other platforms of scrutiny had not been removed as part of recent changes to how Lyndoch operates.

These changes, of course, were approved by the existing members. Most of us didn’t even know it was happening, yet the way Lyndoch had operated for decades would be no more:

As of last year, the Lyndoch annual reports are no longer available online.

As of last year, the Lyndoch annual meetings are no longer advertised to the general public.

As of last year, vacancies on the Lyndoch board no longer have to be advertised.

We don’t even know, until Lyndoch is compelled to report to the Australian Charities and Not-for-Profits Commission later this month, whether it made a surplus or another deficit in 2019.

 

So much for being open and accountable to the community.

Inside the Lyndoch tent, the clamps are also coming down.

A new policy from the CEO Doreen Power prevents Lyndoch staff from approaching the board directly and declares all communication to the board must be made via the CEO.

Even then, staff can only talk to the board about policy matters.

Again, this might be fine except for when, hypothetically speaking, the problem is with the CEO.

What does a troubled staff member do then?

Well, they might come to The Terrier, where there is at least a place to be heard outside of the Lyndoch cabal.

As readers know, a lot of people concerned about Lyndoch have come to The Terrier to talk about all manner of things.

This includes the on-going shortage of staff – with one RN on night duty across the whole of Lyndoch – or the shortage of linen that saw staff cutting up old towels to use as face washers.

Or they have come with concerns around the huge number of staff that had left the organisation in the past four years – up to 80 people from right across Lyndoch, with many leaving distressed and disheartened.

Or they are worried about how Lyndoch could afford to buy two existing medical centres and have the funds to build and operate a brand new medical centre when, at the end of the day, it is supposed to be focussed solely on looking after the frail.

These are all good questions that deserve to be fully scrutinised and, with your help, that is exactly what I will continue to do in 2020.

Did you apply to become a member of Lyndoch? Send me a message to tell me how you fared. If you would like to apply, here is the form.

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Carol Altmann – The Terrier

Picking up from last night, this is a story of a company, complaints, and potential conflicts of interest, all swirling around Lyndoch Living’s plan to build a multi-million-dollar medical clinic.

Let me start with the company, which leads neatly into the complaints.

As I wrote last night, Lyndoch Living Ltd last year set up a company called Lyndoch Healthcare Pty Ltd to oversee the building, running and managing of a medical clinic that is part of a $100 million masterplan being rolled out on Hopkins Road.

What you may not know is that the three directors of this company are Lyndoch CEO Doreen Power and two Lyndoch board members, Warrnambool City Councillor Sue Cassidy, and WCC manager City Growth, Andrew Paton.

 

It also has a company secretary, Lyanne Vinecombe, who was the executive assistant to Ms Power and former Lyndoch CEO Rhys Boyle before retiring earlier this year.

(As an aside, both Ms Power and Ms Vinecombe have Melbourne home addresses listed on documents from the Australian Securities and Investment Commission.)

The shares in this company are worth a grand total of $12.

To be absolutely clear, I am not suggesting for one micro second that the company directors or secretary are doing anything improper – the company set up is common and perfectly normal.

What this arrangement does raise, however, are concerns around potential or perceived conflicts of interest between Lyndoch Living and Lyndoch Healthcare Pty Ltd, with the three company directors all wearing two hats.

On one hand, the directors are responsible for making sure the medical clinic is not only built, but is sustainable, and on the other, they have to make sure Lyndoch Living delivers on looking after our aged and infirm.

In terms of seeking funding and allocating finances, which will be a priority?

This question is one of several concerns that has been raised with federal authorities over Lyndoch’s grand plan to expand into a medical clinic.

I am aware of at least three complaints being forwarded to the Australian Charities and Not For Profits Commission (ACNC), including two complaints lodged before my investigations in Lyndoch began.

Another has been lodged since.

On top of the questions around potential conflicts of interest, concerns have also been raised about whether a multi-million dollar medical centre fits with Lyndoch’s core business that saw it granted charity status many years ago.

As well as being a registered charity, Lyndoch has long been classified as a Public Benevolent Institution (PBI) and both attract significant tax concessions and other benefits.

To be a PBI, the main purpose of the charity must be to “relieve poverty and distress”.

Does building and running a medical centre fit with this?

And does it fit with Lyndoch originally being classed as a charity?

The ACNC will have to decide.

As we now know, Lyndoch last year changed its structure and its constitution to include a new core purpose, which is to “build, manage, maintain and/or otherwise be involved in multi-disciplinary health care facility” in Warrnambool.

In plain speak, this means building the medical clinic.

It is a massive undertaking and a major change for Lyndoch which, for more than 60 years, has been focussed entirely on aged care.

As to why the board decided to go this way, we may never fully know. (My questions to chair Kerry Nelson and Ms Power for this story went unanswered).

But is the ACNC fully aware of this dramatic shift?

Lyndoch has lodged its new constitution with the ACNC, but with about 56,000 charities to monitor, the ACNC relies heavily on the public to raise concerns.

This has now happened.

I spoke to the ACNC and they are, unfortunately, bound by laws which prevent them from talking about a particular case, or even confirming whether a complaint has been received.

What they did say, however, is that they take concerns over charitable and PBI status very seriously and, if they decide a complaint is worthy of pursuit, it will be investigated fully.

All of this, because of the ACNC confidentiality laws, happens behind closed doors.

We shall just have to sit tight to see what, if anything, emerges.

In the meantime, I have two more stories on this whole Lyndoch saga to come, hopefully both within a week, before we pause  paws for Christmas.

In the meantime, I am starting a Foxy Fighting Fund for reasons which I can’t yet explain. If you would like to be part of it, you can do so below.

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Carol Altmann – The Terrier

Why would Lyndoch Living, as an aged care home, decide to build, run and maintain a multi-million-dollar medical clinic, using money from….where?

It seems few people other than the Lyndoch board, executive, and perhaps a few consultants knows the answer to these questions, as other than announcing that it’s going to happen, there has been very little transparency around the whole plan.

And what a plan it is.

The official spiel is that the “state-of-the-art healthcare centre” will have a GP practice, pharmacy, radiology and other medical services (a neurologist was apparently mentioned at one point, which would be a first for Warrnambool), plus a cafe, and an underground carpark for 120 vehicles.

What on earth has this got to do with looking after the old and frail?

The only benefit to them that I can see is a shorter distance to visit the doctor by appointment, assuming their GP is one of those contracted to the clinic.

It will also cost a mozza.

No specific cost has been given, but it’s somewhere between $10 million and $50 million, according to a planning permit lodged with the Warrnambool City Council back in February 2017 and approved the following October.

There are a stack of unanswered questions about this whole proposal and the first is, where is the money coming from?

The second is, is Lyndoch leaving itself exposed financially?

Lyndoch refuses to say. (My questions to chair Kerry Nelson and CEO Doreen Power have gone unanswered).

A question about the funding was put in writing to the AGM on 29 October and, after numerous follow ups, answered two weeks later with this response:

“The costs of the Masterplan will be met by a combination of finance options“.

That’s the extent of the reply from Lyndoch.

What an insult.

I honestly think LyndochLand™ , apologies, I mean Lyndoch Living Inc, has forgotten its roots.

We – the community – built, nurtured and have supported Lyndoch for more than 60 years, yet we are no longer encouraged to ask questions.

In this climate we have to guess where the money is coming from, and my guess is Lyndoch will be taking on debt as part of its “combination of finance options”.

Where is the business plan to justify this decision?

And what security is being offered by Lyndoch against any bank loan taken out for the project?

The over-arching question we should be asking is whether Lyndoch – our beloved Lyndoch – is at risk of creating a financial millstone.

A medical complex seems a million miles from Lyndoch’s core business and that’s because it was a million miles, until the Lyndoch board changed its constitution last year to include a medical centre as a key purpose. Why?

Warrnambool has plenty of medical clinics – I can count at least nine – including the two bought by Lyndoch these past 12 months for an undisclosed price: the Warrnambool Medical Clinic and the Health Spot.

A new medical clinic recently opened in King St, and another is planned for the old Caltex service station site on the highway near Foster St.

Building and fitting out a supercalifragilistic clinic at Lyndoch is also just the first, very expensive step.

Lyndoch also has to make it financially sustainable.

Lyndoch will own the clinic, via a new company it set up last year called Lyndoch HealthCare Pty Ltd, and it will contract doctors and hire out spaces to allied health workers, a cafe manager and the like.

But already, even before the clinic is built, it hasn’t all been plain sailing.

Two experienced GPs, who were working with the Warrnambool Medical Clinic, resigned virtually on the spot after a dinner with Lyndoch representatives in April, for reasons which I can’t go into here.

A third GP also considered going elsewhere.

An experienced nurse, who was employed part-time by the WMC and Lyndoch, also found herself out of a job after being told that, as a result of Lyndoch taking over, she had a “conflict of interest” by holding both positions. Update: five nurses have since resigned from WMC, including two in the past week. 

Running medical centres is not easy and just the accreditation process can be arduous.

Yet financing this new medical centre, building it, maintaining it, and sustaining it, will fall on the shoulders of Lyndoch Living that, until this year, was focussed entirely on caring for the old and frail.

I don’t want to sound like a hypochondriac, but all of this makes me have a case of the nerves.

Others are concerned too, because Lyndoch Living is a registered charity and a Public Benevolent Institution.

It was granted this charitable status to care for the aged and infirm, and running a public medical clinic seems at odds with this core aim.

Perhaps not surprisingly, complaints have been made right to the top, and that’s where this story goes next.

More soon.

Carol Altmann – The Terrier

My team of trusty terriers tell me Lyndoch Living is stitching up a deal with the Warrnambool City Council to take over a piece of prime public land: the Scoborio Reserve on the Hopkins River.

Scoborio Reserve sits off Hopkins-Otway Road between Lyndoch and Proudfoot’s Boathouse, part of the Peek Whurrong lands, and covers almost 3 ha of prime waterfront real estate.

This is public space.

As we know, Lyndoch Living is in the throes of rolling out a $100 million masterplan over the next eight years, but there has been no mention publicly – so far – of Scoborio Reserve being a part of the mega expansion.

The elected councillors have also not had any recent briefings about the proposal.

Despite this, I have now had three good sources tell me that, behind the scenes, discussions between Lyndoch Living, the WCC officers and Mayor Herbert are well advanced and that a formal proposal is being put together.

Cr Sue Cassidy is on the Lyndoch board, so I can only assume that she would also be well across any Lyndoch plans to expand into public space.

The council’s City Growth Manager Andrew Paton is also on the Lyndoch board.

The official line from the council today is that “council has not received any formal request from Lyndoch Living in relation to acquiring any part of Scoborio Reserve”.

Read that sentence very carefully.

“Any formal request” does not rule it out. It just means that it is not in writing, yet.

In fact what happens these days with so many council decisions is that deals are all stitched up behind closed doors and we, the public, are left to play catch up.

Instead of being included in the process from the start, we are left to fight it at the end.

There are six things that make me think this Lyndoch deal is real:

the sudden desire by the WCC to formally name the unnamed road that services the Scoborio Reserve. This could be a coincidence, of course;

the council also saying it received a suggestion (from who?) that the road be named after George Rolfe, who once owned the Lyndoch land;

suggestions that Lyndoch has been interested in building a childcare centre next door to the aged care home;

that this centre would be run by a private operator;

Cr Herbert’s belief that the council should not be in the business of running childcare centres and they should be privatised;

that the council is now in the business of trying to sell off public spaces: just ask the good people of Swan St, who this year had to put up a fight to save their patch of green space.

The word “public” is fast losing its meaning in Warrnambool.

This is public land. It is a reserve. It should not be for sale, “gifted”, or given away for virtually nothing.

We are watching.

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Carol Altmann – The Terrier

Here’s a little figure that slipped by without too many people noticing: last year Lyndoch Living aged care recorded a deficit of $1.772 million – its largest loss in recent years.

You won’t find this figure in the Lyndoch 2018 annual report online, nor will you find it any media reports, but it can be sifted from a federal website that collects the financial records of charities. Such is my reading list.

It was here I learned that Lyndoch went from an $846,563 surplus in 2017, to a $1.772 million deficit in 2018. It is the third deficit in the past four years under CEO Doreen Power and her board. 

To be clear, Lyndoch Living is a not-for-profit, publicly funded body that is not designed – thankfully – to record fat surpluses on the back of caring for our infirm and elderly.

But nor is it intended to run at a loss without a detailed explanation.

As it happens, the 2019 Lyndoch AGM is next Tuesday (Oct 29), so I wanted to dive into last year’s figures before we find out how Lyndoch is faring this year.

And before I go any further, I also want to make it super clear that Lyndoch Living is full of terrific, hard-working staff who are devoted to making the lives of residents the best they can be. (Hello to you, staff! I know many of you read The Terrier, but are unable to comment. That’s okay, I see you.)

Lots of great stuff happens at Lyndoch.

But it is also blindingly obvious that Lyndoch Living is changing, and Ms Power has, since taking over in January 2015, had her foot to the pedal with big-buck projects and a very different management style.

In the past 12 months in particular, Lyndoch Living has been on a buying spree.

It bought the May Noonan Hostel in Terang, and the Warrnambool Medical Clinic practice, and the Health Spot practice in Warrnambool, and in the next couple of years, plans to build a new “super clinic” on Hopkins Rd as part of a full-blown, $100 million masterplan to be rolled out over the next eight years.

(Ms Power has a liking for “super clinics”, having overseen an $8 million one in her last job, at Plenty Valley.)

I’m all for a spruce up, but $100 million is serious money.

Lyndoch’s corporate area was first in line for an upgrade – funny how that happens – and now work on Swinton Wing is in full swing, at an expected cost of $11 million.

The simple question behind this head-spinning, full-throttle expansion is: where is the money coming from?

I want to be reassured, as I am sure others do, that this is not yet another case of corporate grandstanding, with big-ticket, capital works projects blitzing the basics like having enough qualified staff looking after our old folk.

(Watch the short Lyndoch Living video below for the full masterplan shebang.)

The Lyndoch Waterfront Living apartments, which are now five years old, are proof of where glamorous projects can stall.

Stage two of that multi-million dollar project has been put on ice after stage one failed to sell out and several apartments on the south side, facing Marfell Rd, remain empty.

Which brings me back to the deficit.

The deficit is just one part of Lyndoch’s big financial picture, but it is also a keyhole for us to peek through, to see what else is happening to our much-loved Lyndoch that has been a part of the local landscape for more than 60 years.

Here is some of what I have been able to unpick so far:

One of the reasons behind the $1.77 million deficit was the cost of “community based client services” going up by almost a third, or $1.2 million.

I emailed Ms Power and the Lyndoch board president, Kerry Nelson, last Wednesday for more detail about these services and the reason for the cost increase. I didn’t get a response.

It begs the question though, with growing demand for home-based care, why spend a fortune on a “super-clinic” and not these services?

Another reason for the deficit was a drop in the value of a Lyndoch building by $1.75 million.

I asked Ms Power and Ms Nelson more about this too, but there was no response.

Overall, Lyndoch last year had assets valued at a whopping $99.7 million – including $6.6 million in cash – and its liabilities were $36.9 million, leaving its overall position at $62.7 million.

That is a nice, fat cushion, but it is also the lowest bottom line in the past five years – in 2014, the total equity was $4 million higher at $68.9 million.

Sorry for so many figures, but it is the only way to pull this apart.

Here is one more interesting stat: the amount spent by Lyndoch each year on food for clients and residents.

In 2014, Lyndoch spent $1.021 million on food and in 2015 and 2016 it fell below the $1 million mark.

Last year, it spent $1.003 million on food, which is still less than it was five years ago in 2014. Why?

Has a contract changed? The cost of bulk groceries gone down? Are they being bought from elsewhere? Are chia seeds cheaper than homemade chicken soup?

(I was going to put these questions to Ms Power and Ms Nelson as well, but after not receiving any answers thus far, it seemed pointless.)

I will leave aside staffing figures, staff changes and staff morale for now – that is a whole separate story to come shortly – but having pored over a swag of Lyndoch financial reports and deficits, I still don’t know the answer to my simple question:

Where is the money for the $100 million masterplan coming from?

I did ask Ms Power and Ms Nelson this question, but there was no response.

Unfortunately I am going to be away on Terrier duties and unable to attend the Lyndoch AGM at 4pm next Tuesday, but perhaps someone will throw up their hand and ask this question because remember, Lyndoch belongs to us, the south-west community.

In the meantime, I am going to take a punt and say “the bank”, which means “loans”, which means “debt”.

If so, is wading into deep debt a good idea and will it vastly improve the daily lives of those in Lyndoch’s care? That, Terrier readers, is the $100 million question.

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