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Ericka Mendez, DVM

How I Navigate Moments of Discrimination from My Clients

December 2, 2018 by Ericka Mendez, DVM

I’m kneeling next to Baxter examining his toe. Baxter is a sweet old pit-bull mix that is patiently letting me hold his foot as I stare at an ugly tumor that is growing from his nail bed. The growth is bleeding and the owner had it wrapped in a make-shift bandage. I’m doing all the right things, reflecting back what the owner is telling me, positioning myself next to the owner, not across from him, sitting at an even level to the owner and using words that are easy to understand. All of my training in client communication however is failing me. Baxter’s dad looks at me like I have three heads. I gently explain that the growth’s appearance and location, along with Baxter’s age and breed really concern me and that the only thing to be done is to amputate the toe. I assure the owner that Baxter will be able to walk comfortably after surgery as the toe is not a weight-bearing toe and that he would be well-medicated throughout the recovery process. Baxter’s dad continues to talk about some kind of cream or ointment that I could prescribe to make the growth go away. I’m getting nowhere with him. It’s like he doesn’t believe me and unfortunately, I have no way to prove this to him. I look at Baxter’s dad. He is an older white gentleman and he seems really nice and concerned about his dog. I know that my senior vet is in the building doing a dental. He is also an older white gentleman who is also really nice. I ask Baxter’s dad if he would like me to see if that doctor can come in and look at the growth as well. He happily and eagerly agrees. I warn him that it may be a little while until that doctor is free. Until then I’m going to give him something to read about nail bed growths while he waits. He is happy to wait.

I make my way to my colleague and ask him to consult about Baxter. We walk in together and he looks at the toe and he say the exact same things. Right away Baxter’s dad agrees and is ready to move ahead.

What the heck just happened here? Unfortunately, this is not the first and I’m sure it won’t be the last time this has happened to me. Being a young woman veterinarian has its disadvantages at times and being a young woman brown veterinarian even more so. As much as we like to pretend that appearances don’t matter, that it’s our merit and not how we look that counts, the sad truth is that it does matter. Client perceptions of us can happen before we even meet them. My last name is Hispanic. I look at every bit of it. Whether I like it or not there are people out in the world that will judge me based on those things. I’ve had more than one client ask me “where are you from, how old are you, (and my favorite) what are you?” Early on in my career, these comments would eat at my self-confidence. They would spark the fire of imposter syndrome deep in my belly. It’s really, really easy for an already uncertain young vet to feel this way and doubly crushing when you feel the sting of discrimination. Discrimination for all things that are completely beyond my control. For being young, for being inexperienced, for being a woman, for being a minority. It all stings. Even when the request to see the senior vet is as polite as can be, it still stabs at your core.

Did I feel like that with Baxter’s dad? No, I didn’t. I didn’t feel like that because along the way I’ve learned lots of things that have helped me to navigate this situation in a much healthier way. I didn’t take it personally. I didn’t make it about me. I realized that part of Baxter’s dad’s wiring caused him to react to me with disbelief. It’s not my place to fix that or worry about that. That part is completely out of my control. What is in my control is my reaction. My choice to choose my response instead of knee-jerk react. My response to stay open and ask questions about what might make this easier, about what might be helpful for HIM, led to the solution that we all needed. Had I gone to my knee-jerk reaction to start the negative self-talk I would have shut down and the man would have left and his dog would still have a potentially life-threatening growth on his toe. That reaction would have served no one. By staying open, by choosing curiosity, by not letting my significance or my ego run the show I was able to achieve my goal. Baxter’s life has a chance to be saved. And if that’s not worth all the hard work and growth that I’ve put myself through, then I don’t know what is.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Life With Clients, Perspective

An Open Letter to My Receptionists

November 6, 2018 by Ericka Mendez, DVM

Dear Receptionist,

I swear I don’t hate you. I don’t find you annoying. I don’t think you are (insert whatever horrible thing you think about yourself here).

The truth is, that I absolutely know you are doing the best you can in this moment. I absolutely know that you have one of the most difficult jobs in this place. And I absolutely know I could never do what you do so well.

It occurred to me to write this letter when you came and told me that Mr. Puppylover wanted to cancel his dental appointment. The dental appointment that was to happen tomorrow. The dental appointment that we had already done lab work for. The dental appointment that took me two appointments, three phone calls and I don’t know how many minutes explaining how we do a dental, why we should do a dental, why a dental is safe for his middle-aged small-breed dog with terrible teeth that he wants to live forever, and how this was a good procedure to do.

So you can imagine my frustration in that moment when you delivered the news. I’m pretty sure I started with presenting a certain one finger salute which was accompanied by my head exploding which was followed by a quick apology that I wasn’t mad at you and that if you would kindly leave me a written message I will call Mr. Puppylover and discuss this with him later. Professional? No. Proud moment? Absolutely not. Real? 100% yes.

What this moment helped me realize was that I have a conditioned response to the sight of you. The sight of you looking at me with intent to talk to me makes me have an automatic defensive response. Inevitably, when I’m tired or stressed I’m sure that the face you get when I look up at you is not a Mary Poppins face, but more like a Cruella Deville face.

It wasn’t a good feeling to realize that I have this trigger in me. It took me about ten seconds to then realize that you must think I hate you. Or that you annoy me. Or that I think you are (insert whatever horrible thing here). From there it was a short ten seconds later that I realized that I was potentially making your job harder than it already was. Which made me feel even worse.

So from now on I’m going to strive to channel Mary Poppins by relying on a few of my tools and putting these tools into action when I see you coming. Please be patient with me as I try my new face on, I’m sure it will be a bumpy road from Cruella to Mary but I promise to keep trying and to do my best.

Sincerely,
The Purposeful Vet

P.S. I’m including my tools so that I have a handy reminder for when I forget:

Tool #1: Utilize the space between the moments and choose to respond instead of react.

All this time I’ve been reacting to you in a knee-jerk fashion without taking the time to consider how my reaction is impacting you. By really capitalizing upon the space between the moments I can begin to acknowledge my automatic reaction, use my other tools to help me get to a better feeling place, and then respond purposefully and kindly.

Tool #2: Live in wonder.

By giving up the expectation that whatever you are going to tell me is about to make my head explode I can begin to difuse my automatic reaction. Wouldn’t it be nice if you were coming to tell me that there is a delivery man waiting for me in the lobby holding a large bouquet of red roses, chocolates and a new Harry Potter bracelet? When I live in wonder it includes gifts (trust me, it helps).

Tool #3: Look for the gift.

I like to live in a world where the universe has my back. There is always a gift in any situation. Sometimes it is obvious, other times not so much. While doing a dental on Mr. Puppylover’s dog is clearly the best thing for him, canceling the dental actually freed up a spot for my other patient that needed to get in ASAP. The gift is there somewhere so there’s no use in getting my undies in a bunch no matter what’s happening.


Ericka MendezABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr. Ericka Mendez is a small animal veterinarian on the east coast of Florida. She loves reading, teaching and writing about veterinary wellness and channels all her loves into her site The Purposeful Vet.  She shares her life with her husband and daughter and can often be found at the beach, at a Disney park or on the couch watching Harry Potter movies.

 

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Team Culture

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