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Categorizing Clients
May. 21st, 2004 08:52 amI try not to stereotype people, or to make assumptions about them based on first impressions. It's something that I feel fairly strongly about. Even so, after enough years working in the veterinary profession, it becomes clear that there are certain categories that clients tend to fall into....
There are Little Old Ladies with their Little Fat Dogs (and occasionally Little Old Ladies with their Huge Damn Dogs, that just fascinate me). There are Little Old Men with their Little Old Cats, and Empty-Nesters with their Adorable Hyper Puppies, and Newlywed Yuppies with their Furry Substitute Babies, and Moms with their Kid's Dogs (for some reason, there doesn't seem to be a category of Kid's Cats).
Each of these has their appeal, to be honest. Little Old Men and their cats are sweet and tend to have a kind of quiet dignity that I adore. Empty Nester puppies are probably the happiest and most well-cared-for animals that I'll ever see, and Kid's Dogs are usually calm and jaded enough that you can do anything to them as long as it doesn't involve crayons and craft glue.
My favorite category, though (even though I know I shouldn't have favorites), has to be Great Big Men with their Eensy Teensy Pets. Every once in a while - not so often as the other categories, but often enough to be a noticeable trend - a client will walk into our office who just happens to be somewhere over six feet tall, and usually shaved bald. They tend to wear Harley-Davidson t-shirts that are barely stretched across a torso approximately the size of Rhode Island, and their arms are covered with a parade of tattoos, usually of flaming skulls, gesturing demons, and naked women. And I usually spend my first minute in the exam room looking around for the animal, until the client pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds out a teeny chihuahua, or miniature pinscher, or chinchilla, or some other equally adorable little fuzzy thing. (Rats do not count for this. Rats are adorable, and fuzzy, but they are not teeny. They are merely ultra-concentrated. There's a difference).
Once they're caught with the puppy in their pocket, there's no denying that it's theirs, or insisting that it belongs to their wife or girlfriend or grandmother. These are not the chihuahuas named Killer, or Ninja, or Fang, either - they're Betsy, and Foofoo, and Topsy, and they are clearly cutting their teeth on daddy's heart. As I examine them, I'm almost always regaled with tales of how they now drive to work with their girlfriend in the back seat so the puppy can ride shotgun, or how they've had to learn to sleep absolutely still to avoid crushing the tiny critter that has staked out his solar plexus as its favorite napping spot, and how they want to learn how to take absolute perfect care of their new precious baby.
I know I'm not supposed to judge, and that all clients have a special bond with their animals, and that it's an honor and a privelege to be a part of any pet-family. But for some reason the fascinating juxtaposition and utter charm of these pairs just appeals to me, and I can't help it....
There are Little Old Ladies with their Little Fat Dogs (and occasionally Little Old Ladies with their Huge Damn Dogs, that just fascinate me). There are Little Old Men with their Little Old Cats, and Empty-Nesters with their Adorable Hyper Puppies, and Newlywed Yuppies with their Furry Substitute Babies, and Moms with their Kid's Dogs (for some reason, there doesn't seem to be a category of Kid's Cats).
Each of these has their appeal, to be honest. Little Old Men and their cats are sweet and tend to have a kind of quiet dignity that I adore. Empty Nester puppies are probably the happiest and most well-cared-for animals that I'll ever see, and Kid's Dogs are usually calm and jaded enough that you can do anything to them as long as it doesn't involve crayons and craft glue.
My favorite category, though (even though I know I shouldn't have favorites), has to be Great Big Men with their Eensy Teensy Pets. Every once in a while - not so often as the other categories, but often enough to be a noticeable trend - a client will walk into our office who just happens to be somewhere over six feet tall, and usually shaved bald. They tend to wear Harley-Davidson t-shirts that are barely stretched across a torso approximately the size of Rhode Island, and their arms are covered with a parade of tattoos, usually of flaming skulls, gesturing demons, and naked women. And I usually spend my first minute in the exam room looking around for the animal, until the client pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds out a teeny chihuahua, or miniature pinscher, or chinchilla, or some other equally adorable little fuzzy thing. (Rats do not count for this. Rats are adorable, and fuzzy, but they are not teeny. They are merely ultra-concentrated. There's a difference).
Once they're caught with the puppy in their pocket, there's no denying that it's theirs, or insisting that it belongs to their wife or girlfriend or grandmother. These are not the chihuahuas named Killer, or Ninja, or Fang, either - they're Betsy, and Foofoo, and Topsy, and they are clearly cutting their teeth on daddy's heart. As I examine them, I'm almost always regaled with tales of how they now drive to work with their girlfriend in the back seat so the puppy can ride shotgun, or how they've had to learn to sleep absolutely still to avoid crushing the tiny critter that has staked out his solar plexus as its favorite napping spot, and how they want to learn how to take absolute perfect care of their new precious baby.
I know I'm not supposed to judge, and that all clients have a special bond with their animals, and that it's an honor and a privelege to be a part of any pet-family. But for some reason the fascinating juxtaposition and utter charm of these pairs just appeals to me, and I can't help it....
