Vet Tech Life

There is no doubt that veterinary technicians do a lot to keep veterinarians on track and hospitals running smoothly. No one is perfect, though.

In this DVM360.com video, Drs. Andy Roark & Dave Nicol investigate the ways vet techs fail vets.

5. Techs fail to read vets minds.

via GIPHY | Full video on DVM360.com

4. They don’t laugh at vets’ lame jokes.

via GIPHY | Full video on DVM360.com 

3. Techs don’t stand still for photos.

via GIPHY | Full video on DVM360.com 

2. Techs laugh at vets’ glove size.

via GIPHY | Full video on DVM360.com 

1. Techs don’t save vets from themselves.

via GIPHY | Full video on DVM360.com 

Want to see more?

Catch the “Top 5 Ways Veterinary Technicians Fail Doctors” video in full over on DVM360.com.

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Danielle is a veterinary practice manager and the founder of SnoutSchool.com, a website dedicated to teaching veterinary hospitals to use social media effectively. You can get her 5 favorite social media tools here, or follow her on social media to see excessive photos of her Brussels Griffon. She’s @DanielleSnout on Snapchat, Instagram & Twitter.

Does Hilton have the best customer service, hire the right people or are there just nice people in this world?

I heard the words I never wished to hear again: “Your Mother has had a brain bleed.  We recommend she be transported to the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital of Neurosciences and……”  I am sure he went on but that was all I heard.

Flashback to my father, lying on the stretcher in the Abington Hospital’s emergency room some 16 odd years ago and hearing those words for the first time…”Your father has had an aneurysm.  There is a subarachnoid hemorrhage…..,” and again they go on with pertinent information only partially retained.

Unfortunately, my father never made it out of Abington Hospital.

Despite the fact that I have prayed to never have to deal with this again, there they were; those dreaded words….hanging in midair having just left the mouth of the ER doc.  He kept talking but life slowed down and I felt that I was in a state of suspended animation.  There was no other moment in time but this one.  Imaginary fingers leafed through the files in my mind as to how to react.  My eyes were locked on the clinician’s eyes, gauging his sense of alarm.  The next words I heard were: “We will ambulance her into the city.  You can meet her there.”

Kindness in the City

The city?  As a suburban girl, the city means only two things to me; theater or a medical conference.  These are the only reason one should risk or venture into the big, scary city. To me, the city is a twisted mass of high rises blocking the sun, a jigsaw puzzle of one way streets and walkways the belch up sounds and smells of the deep, underground subway.

After admitting Mom for care and realizing this was going to take time, I decided to find a hotel within walking distance of the hospital.  I knew this would minimize the trauma of having to drive back and forth from the antithesis of all things pleasant.  The Hilton Doubletree Hotel was the rushed decision I had made.  While securing my reservation on the phone, I gave the operator a special code for people with someone in the hospital.  That is when the mundane attitude of the agent changed. “Mrs. Byard, is a loved one in the hospital?”  I share that she is indeed and before we hung up, she wished my Mom a speedy recovery.

While registering at the desk, the clerk immediately sweetly says, “Oh Mrs. Byard, I understand your mother is in the hospital.  I am sorry. Do not hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do to help you during this challenging time.”

That night, tired after having walked the streets of Philadelphia and having navigated the medical system of an unfamiliar hospital, I ordered my dinner from room service.  A sweet gentleman delivered the meal within the promised amount of time.  As I signed the check, I mentioned how appreciative I was that they had room service.  I mentioned that Mom was being treated at Jefferson University Hospital.  He authentically shared his concern and asked if there was anything else I needed.  I told him that there was not but that I appreciated his thoughts.

[tweetthis]”Do not hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do to help you during this time.”[/tweetthis]

Cookies at the Door

Still heavy with the unknown, I awoke the next morning, showered, dressed in one of the three outfits I threw together in a hurry and quickly rushed out the door to stay with Mom in ICU. As I opened the door, I noticed that on the outside was a Doubletree bag with a tin of their famous chocolate chip cookies within and a hand written note from the man that thoughtfully delivered my meal: “Mrs. Byard, I hope your Mom gets better.  Sal.  Room Service.”

That night I ordered my dinner from room service again.  The clothes I had thrown together were not suited for a restaurant within the theater district.  The same sweet gentleman answered the phone and took my order.  I told him how much the cookies meant to me.  When he delivered the meal, he made sure there was an extra dessert and two unordered bottles of water which he placed in my room refrigerator “for later”.

The next day, I realized I had to extend my reservation another day.  I called the 800 # and made arrangements accordingly.  I was informed though, that I would have to check out and in again and change rooms.  When I spoke to the front desk, the clerk said, “No, I will keep you in the same room and you don’t have to store your luggage.”  Then she took a business card from the desk, turned it over and wrote her name and a number on it.  “This is my name and personal cell phone number.  I know how hard it is when your mother is ill.  If there is anything that the hotel cannot help you with, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Compassionate Service in the Clinic

So, as I sit and write this out, I wonder again, is there exemplary customer service training at this hotel?  Do they provide compassion training for their staff?  Or are there just extraordinarily nice people out in the world and the angels aligned for me during this time to make the journey easier?

As an employee in a veterinary practice, I also wonder, how can we manage the same sort of compassionate service?  We tend to be very compassionate with our patients but often take a sideways glance from the pet parent as judgmental instead of wondering what their story is and how can we be of service.

The Hilton Doubletree Hotel hit their mark on so many levels. By entering the special code into their system, the entire staff was alerted that this customer was not a tourist nor on a business trip.  This was a person that needed special attention.  Their concern made me feel safe when all things in my life felt anything but safe.

By staying in a center city hotel, I was spending money I didn’t plan on spending, I was missing work and I was worried.  These are all concerns that crop up when someone’s cat blocks for the third time, when the puppy runs out of the house and accidentally sustains injuries when hit by a car, or when the older dog presents in seizure for the first time. We often get defensive when they mention how expensive veterinary care is.  Well, the reality is; it is expensive, they weren’t prepared for it and they are scared.  Just as I was.  This is a reminder to me and hopefully you, that there can never be too much empathy.

The good news is that my mother is at a rehab and the doctors expect a full recovery. As I ponder that blessing, I am reminded that Gandhi said; “To give pleasure to a single heart by a simple act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.”

[tweetthis]There can never be too much empathy.[/tweetthis]

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.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vickie Byard, CVT, VTS (Dentistry), CVJ has been practicing at Rau Animal Hospital in Glenside, Pennsylvania since 1985.  She is an international speaker, educator and consultant on veterinary dentistry and she is the founder of PetED Veterinary Education and Training Resources.  PetED has 2 focuses.  The first is as a resource for veterinary practices looking to increase their standard of care by making available well-respected experts to guide that process. PetED has also has produced a dental education video series for pet parents. For more information:  www.PetED4VetCE.com

Those people who insist upon being the first at work in the morning and the last to leave at night share a common malady. They share it with people who don’t use their vacation time and who are the “only ones” who know how certain things at work are done. They make themselves indispensable and important until everyone believes the myth. I give you: the Office Martyr.

The Martyr will have you believe that they are the most valuable person in the clinic. Everyone will look like a slacker in comparison. There will be heavy sighs, notes full of passive aggression, and meetings where the entire staff is called out for the actions of a single person. They are the “only one” who cleans up dishes, replaces the paper towels and works on their day off. They bully staff members and then claim they are the victims of bullying. Telling them “no” is the equivalent of the old Bugs Bunny double face-slap with a pair of gloves.

Be smarter than the Martyr! Realize that the Martyr is sabotaging your practice. Anyone who challenges the Martyr will be systematically and efficiently eliminated. They will harass their target until they get an aggressive response and then be shocked and appalled that anyone could treat them so badly. They run good employees off, leaving you shaking your head at why there is such turnover at your clinic.

How can you spot and correct a Martyr problem? Or perhaps you might even see it in yourself.

Be smarter than the Martyr! Realize that the Martyr is sabotaging your practice.

CROSS TRAIN:

Everyone needs to know how to do everyone else’s job. NO ONE gets to keep secrets or be the only one who knows how something works. Obviously, you can’t go handing out the drug keys or the combination to the safe to everyone, but everyone should be able to access the phone number to the plumber, electrician and anesthesia machine servicing company.  If someone doesn’t know how to send digital radiographs via email, there should be a place to quickly access that information.  Resources don’t need to be on someone’s cell phone. Your office software likely has a Q&A or Notes section that can contain all the goodies.

LISTEN TO YOUR STAFF:

If there are frequent skirmishes and one employee is always somehow involved, investigate. If there is a person whose attitude determines what kind of day the whole clinic is going to have, call them out on it. If the staff has to text someone at home frequently to find out where something is or what they told a client, focus on that person. If you find yourself avoiding a staff member because the confrontation isn’t worth it, that’s your Martyr.

HAVE A STRICT VACATION POLICY:

Vacations are excellent for reducing compassion fatigue. You need a break from your employees and they need a break from you (and each other). Avoid letting people carry over vacation or take it as cash. Be sure there is a rule in place that texting, calling or emailing employees on vacation must be approved by management. And seriously, folks, it needs to be an emergency. I know people who have received work texts during their wedding and while saying goodbye to a family member in hospice care.  FOR. CRYING. OUT. LOUD.

REQUIRE GOOD COMMUNICATION:

The Martyr will have you voice their concerns to other employees. They will convince other employees to be their mouthpiece. A good, old-fashioned sit-down with good communication between ONLY the involved parties is so much more helpful than a game of “telephone” or a blanket statement at a staff meeting that everyone must wash their own dishes (what is it about the dishes????).

HAVE A NO TOLERANCE BULLYING POLICY:

C’mon now. If we can tell that the cat who flicked an ear was the cause of the conflict between two of our patients, surely we can spot when one of our employees is picking on everyone else. Don’t let tears and drama fool you. The real victim is often suffering in silence.

ASK:

You should be reviewing your employees at least yearly. Make sure you give them a chance to tell you what’s going on around the clinic. Ask how things are going and if there is anything that can be improved. Make sure you’re the kind of boss that encourages your staff to come to you with concerns. You don’t necessarily have to be the one to solve them, but you do need to be aware.

SET BOUNDARIES:

There is absolutely NO reason you or your staff should have to come to work with someone who creates drama and chaos. I have a friend who fires any employee who causes her to lose sleep at night. Warm bodies are worthless. I’d rather see you short-staffed than staffed with people who cause trouble.  (And for those of you working for a Martyr, remember: you can only change your own behavior. If that means resigning, run like the wind).

For some reason, management seems to get overly attached to bad employees. Perhaps we feel it’s a reflection on us that an employee we chose is not working out. Trust me, it’s a far worse reflection on you to force the rest of your staff to put up with someone who behaves this way. Think about it, how many times have you finally fired someone, and everyone gives a big sigh of relief? Typically we say “I can’t believe I waited so long to do that!”. Surround yourself with people who make you better. You’ll never regret it.

There is absolutely NO reason your staff should have to come to work with someone who creates drama.

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.

I’d like to correct a logical error we, as veterinarians, have been making, that we should look at as more of a typo. In veterinary medicine we should change the spelling of alone to allone.

I have felt alone and helpless in my darkest times. I am a thirty-four year old veterinarian with ADHD, elementary school puns, and pre-pubescent humor; married for over ten years, with two children under the age of five each with their own problems; working 60+ hours a week in 4 days, living back in the town I grew up, racking up several injuries, in braces recovering from jaw surgery; and love to teach and care so much about others that I don’t take time for my family or myself and break down crying on the freeway at 2:45 AM coming back from work. That kind of alone.

Thankfully, I had recently joined a veterinary support group. A group dedicated entirely to supporting each other, in whatever way we may need. I shared my unique story and problems. Through my colleagues, I shared every single struggle, every aspect of my life.

My colleagues helped me shine a light in the darkness of my life and realize that I shared everything. We shared everything. Someone had been through what I was going through, often multiple people, and they had survived. They offered insight, resources, support, and something much greater.

I am proud to be a part of a profession of colleagues so great that they take time out of their equally busy and stressful lives, for me. I would like to pay forward a small part of that. In the darkest and most obscure situation, where not another car or light could be seen anywhere for miles, I had felt alone, broken, clinically depressed, and starting down a path towards suicidal ideation. Through their efforts, I realized that I am not alone. We are not alone. We are all-one. I submit we need to edit our mental autocorrect to permanently change alone, to allone. We are ALLONE.

[tweetthis]Someone had been through what I was going through, often multiple people, and they had survived.[/tweetthis]

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.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason Sweitzer, DVM, RVT is an associate veterinarian at Conejo Valley Veterinary Hospital in Thousand Oaks, CA. He does general practice and emergency medicine for small and exotics animals, as well as wildlife, with special interests in behavior medicine, management, and teaching. He balances his life with family, playing field hockey, and voluminous quantities of bad jokes and puns.

It starts early. At least it did for me. I had decided to be a veterinarian when I was very young. Before I understood anything about money or the fact that the reason you work is related to making an income. Even once I got into veterinary school, I was incredibly naïve. It wasn’t until well into my second year of veterinary school that I even had the faintest idea about how much a veterinarian makes. I heard some fourth years talking about their contracts for their first jobs. One of them was going to be making $45,000 a year. It was 1994, but still, I thought it sounded like a lot of money. I thought wrong.

Most veterinary students are also blissfully unaware of the cost of veterinary school. Because the training to be a physician is relatively similar to the training of a veterinarian, the cost of training a veterinarian is also similar. The only problem is that once you graduate, the salary of a veterinarian is a fraction of that of a physician. I was somewhat shielded from this as I graduated in 1996 from a Canadian veterinary school. However, I still managed to rack up about $40,000 in student debt during university, which I only just managed to pay off. (I kept trying to get loan forgiveness as I was really sorry, but I was never forgiven.)

The Debt and the Graduate

Now it is relatively common for American veterinary students to graduate with $200,000 in student debt. This is a tragedy. This problem is further compounded by the off-shore veterinary school industry (yes, it is an industry) which then serves to overproduce veterinarians, which drives their salaries down. Academic institutions are complicit in this quiet crisis, as they admit off-shore veterinary students into their programs for their clinical year for a huge tuition (around $50,000). This hit of money is a significant source of income for veterinary colleges. Now they are addicted to the money and they can’t stop. In fact, they want more.

This bad economy continues once veterinarians graduate. They have little to no training in business and many of them have a short or long term goal of starting or buying in to a business. When I was in veterinary school, there were zero courses in business, human resource management and communication. Most veterinarians will run a business, have to manage human resources and will need excellent communication skills. Things have improved a bit, for at least now there is some awareness that a veterinary practice is actually a business and (maybe), an academic veterinary hospital is too.

I can clearly remember in veterinary school having no idea what bandage material costs. We wanted to put bandages on for free because the material was just sitting on the shelf  (so it must be free or almost free) and the owner should not have to pay for our skill in placing a bandage or our time in assessing a wound. Also, we should feel really bad about charging them for it.

Cost and Care: Finding the Sweet Spot

Once practicing, the real struggle begins. We want to practice the best quality medicine possible. Our clients also demand this from us. The best quality of medicine at the lowest possible cost. If the cost is too high, we are heartless, money-grubbing veterinarians who don’t care about animals. If the quality of the care is too low, we lack skill and competence.

We strive for the sweet spot where the quality of medicine is good enough and the cost is not too high, but usually the differential between the quality and cost is filled in with our margins (which is our salaries and our technicians’ salaries), our time (we donate a large amount of time for free), and sometimes the quality (which creates guilt because we always want to do better for our patients). Over time, this will serve to devalue our skills and services and create guilt for charging too much. This leads to some of the negative feelings we have about ourselves and our profession. It is hard to be a pretend-MD.

The best example of this is the dilemma of overnight care in general practice. Most general practices do not have staff to care for patients overnight. With the advent of emergency clinics in cities during the late nineties, some of this burden has been relieved by transferring sick patients for overnight care. However, shuttling sick patients back and forth to emergency hospitals is far from ideal.

Then there are the patients that are not sick, like the healthy dog spay. This is a young healthy dog, who also just had a major abdominal surgery and general anesthesia. Some clinics will send these dogs home that night, because at least someone is there to watch them. This is probably the better choice, but this usually results in a rough night for both the dog and the owner.

The other option is to keep them overnight for “monitoring” but there is no one there to “monitor” them. They are in a cage alone with no one in the clinic. Sometimes a night technician will come in once to check patients, but usually there is no one there for 8-12 hours. When clients discover this, they are horrified that no one is there overnight, and maybe rightfully so, but most dog spays are performed well under the actual cost of the procedure. Bringing in 24-hour care would drive the costs up, to the point that it would be more than the market would bear. This is a huge dilemma. No veterinarian feels good about leaving their patients alone at night, but often there are no other options.

That is the problem, veterinary medicine in general is more than the market will bear. We can’t afford the education or the care that our patients and clients ask of us and that we ask of ourselves. We need to work on rectifying this disparity, and educating our clients on the real costs of medical care.

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.

I have a confession to make:

Practicing veterinary medicine is not my favorite thing to do.

It’s hard sometimes, being surrounded by people who say things like “It’s my calling” and “I’ve never wanted to do anything else” and “I can’t imagine my life if I were not a veterinarian.” I don’t feel that way at all. I was a “nontraditional” vet student with an art history degree and a few years of post-college life under my belt. I needed to find a profession that would keep me interested and challenged for the rest of my working life. I loved vet school and have been largely very lucky in the jobs I’ve had as a small animal general practitioner. I enjoy my work, feel I’m reasonably good at it, and have a very strong drive to get better, learn more, and be the best I can be at what I’m expected to do every day.

But I’m that way with pretty much everything I do. It’s still just a job to me. 

It’s a good job. I love the feeling when things go well. I like to pull diseased teeth. I like seeing puppies and kittens grow up and sick animals get a new lease on life. I love our motivated, compassionate staff and the clients who have lost a dog that come back to see me with their new puppy because they can’t imagine having anyone else take care of their pets. But if something happened where I couldn’t be a vet anymore, I’d be sad for a while, but I have no doubt that I’d find something else to do and have a similar drive to be good at that too.

There are about a million things I’m interested in. I can’t remember ever being bored – ever. There is never enough time to do everything I want to do. But for several years I was really unhappy. Work burned me out, and I started to become a person I didn’t like very much. I tore my ACL and had surgery, and while I was getting back to working full time I realized I was a whole lot happier with just a little bit less time at the office. 

So I went to a rehab gym to get stronger post-op, and stayed there learning to do things like Zercher squats and sled pushes. I discovered I can do pull-ups. I ride horses. I got certified to teach two group fitness classes and now I have a regular Tuesday night class that nothing at work that day can keep me from. I read – everything from novels to history to social psychology. I love podcasts and listen ALL the time – I’m constantly inspired.

I’ve become a running junkie and half marathoner. I’ve turned out to be our clinic’s biggest advocate for Fear Free practice methods, reducing compassion fatigue, and using social media to encourage more client engagement and loyalty. My actual job, seeing appointments and prescribing medications and talking to clients on the phone, is fine. I like it. I get positive feelings from doing it well. But it’s not who I am. It’s not what lights my fire and gets me out of bed in the morning. All the other stuff is what does that. And because that fire is lit, I am happier and better at work. 

In our profession, as in many others, it often seems understood that we are to live and breathe our jobs and that we took them on because we felt we barely had a choice. We were MEANT to do what we do. Maybe that’s the case for some people, but I don’t envy them. I love that I have so many passions and have made peace with the fact that seeing appointments all day is not one of them. It does not lessen my skill or my compassion, or make me any less a veterinarian than the person who hasn’t considered another career since she was 6 years old.

So, to vet students, new grads, recent grads in the 5-year slump, and veterans who keep thinking, “Is this all there is? When do I get a break?” – I’m telling you. It’s OK to do other things, and to love them, and to love them more than your job. At the end of your life you will not wish you were more obsessed with work. You will wonder what you could have done if you had been less obsessed, or if you had let go of the expectation of obsession. Life is short. Choose joy. Live what you love – whatever that 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.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dr. Katie Berlin is a small animal general practitioner in Mechanicsburg, PA. She is also a reader, a rider, a runner, a lifter, a teacher, and an art lover. She graduated from Williams College in 2000 with a degree in Art History and worked in art museums before going back to school and earning her DVM from Cornell in 2009. She is an avid supporter of Fear Free practice and the battle against compassion fatigue in the veterinary profession.