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Selective Memory
Nov. 27th, 2004 06:22 pmI love knowing that I've made a difference to a client, and that they're bringing their pets in to the clinic to see me in particular, rather than just bringing them to the nearest clinic to see whoever happens to be available. However, I never know quite what to do when a client I don't remember or recognize feels like they have a bond with me.
I do pay attention to my clients, and they're important to me. But on a good day, I'll see three appointements each hour, for eight hours - which means somewhere between 20-25 people and at least as many animals. Some of them do stand out more than others, to be honest. The strange and obscure ailments, the particularly colorful or emotional individuals, the clients that come in at least once a week until we all wonder if we should start either charging them rent or paying them as part-time employees, the ones who bring us chocolates (a personal favorite). But the rest tend to fade into a vague haze of 'nice puppy/kitty, friendly enough owner.' And it always surprises me when the same isn't true in reverse.
This tends to lead to the awkward and confusing situation of walking into an exam room and introducing myself, only to have the client look up and say, 'Of course I know you, Dr. S, you (neutered my bunny/euthanized my cat/fixed my other puppy's owie toe) last year - don't you remember little Snookie?'
Let me tell you now, that if you ever ask your own vet that question, the answer is almost certainly something along the lines of, 'No, I see several hundred bunnies and kitties and puppies each year, and while I'm sure yours was the most adorable of the lot, my brain is made of meat and has imperfect retention.' However, it would be impolite and a bit hurtful to say that, and I somehow wind up extemporizing a reply along the lines of, 'Snookie, yes, of course! Um.... how's everything going at home?' while surreptitiously peeking through the chart to at least see if little Snookie is still among the living. To my credit, once I have a bit of a reminder, either in the owner's stories of Snookie's recovery or last moments, or in the last entry of the medical record, I can almost always remember the details, and I'm more than happy to reminisce for as long as my schedule can allow. But I always worry that I'm going to respond with an inappropriate emotion for the case before I have those details.....
It's still amazing to me that I can have more of an impact on people than they have on me, especially when I consider the day-to-day emotional impact my job has on my life. I worry about these animals, I laugh when things turn out well, and I cry when I don't. I suppose it's good for me to have an occasional reminder that, as involved as I am, it's even more important to the people whom the pets belong to.
Meanwhile, for the rest of the world, if you want your vet to remember your pet when you chat with them, give them a few hints and details to refresh their memories before you ask them anything in particular. Or better yet, bring chocolates.
I do pay attention to my clients, and they're important to me. But on a good day, I'll see three appointements each hour, for eight hours - which means somewhere between 20-25 people and at least as many animals. Some of them do stand out more than others, to be honest. The strange and obscure ailments, the particularly colorful or emotional individuals, the clients that come in at least once a week until we all wonder if we should start either charging them rent or paying them as part-time employees, the ones who bring us chocolates (a personal favorite). But the rest tend to fade into a vague haze of 'nice puppy/kitty, friendly enough owner.' And it always surprises me when the same isn't true in reverse.
This tends to lead to the awkward and confusing situation of walking into an exam room and introducing myself, only to have the client look up and say, 'Of course I know you, Dr. S, you (neutered my bunny/euthanized my cat/fixed my other puppy's owie toe) last year - don't you remember little Snookie?'
Let me tell you now, that if you ever ask your own vet that question, the answer is almost certainly something along the lines of, 'No, I see several hundred bunnies and kitties and puppies each year, and while I'm sure yours was the most adorable of the lot, my brain is made of meat and has imperfect retention.' However, it would be impolite and a bit hurtful to say that, and I somehow wind up extemporizing a reply along the lines of, 'Snookie, yes, of course! Um.... how's everything going at home?' while surreptitiously peeking through the chart to at least see if little Snookie is still among the living. To my credit, once I have a bit of a reminder, either in the owner's stories of Snookie's recovery or last moments, or in the last entry of the medical record, I can almost always remember the details, and I'm more than happy to reminisce for as long as my schedule can allow. But I always worry that I'm going to respond with an inappropriate emotion for the case before I have those details.....
It's still amazing to me that I can have more of an impact on people than they have on me, especially when I consider the day-to-day emotional impact my job has on my life. I worry about these animals, I laugh when things turn out well, and I cry when I don't. I suppose it's good for me to have an occasional reminder that, as involved as I am, it's even more important to the people whom the pets belong to.
Meanwhile, for the rest of the world, if you want your vet to remember your pet when you chat with them, give them a few hints and details to refresh their memories before you ask them anything in particular. Or better yet, bring chocolates.
