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A few weeks ago I visited my primary care physician in her new office. As the first patient of the day I was immediately ushered into the examining room by a woman I assume was a medical assistant. She didn’t introduce herself, but her name tag read “Marcy” (not her real name). Her demeanor could best be described as cheerless. She efficiently took my vital signs, asked me my height, and weighed me. She ran through the usual list of screening questions without the slightest hint of a smile despite my efforts to gently inject a bit of levity into my answers.
With her work completed, she left me to wait for “the doctor” without a clue about who I was. She knew that I had one beer and one glass of wine each evening, and that I always wore a seatbelt and didn’t have gun. But she hadn’t provided any outward evidence that she cared about the person who had been providing the answers.
There was a welcome lifting of the chill when my former colleague and current physician entered the exam room. After we had done some catching up about our families and before we started talking about my blood pressure I said, “Marcy really needs to lighten up a bit.”
My observation came as no surprise to my doctor. The transition to a new hospital-owned group practice still had some rough edges including the struggle to instill a more customer-friendly culture among the support staff that she had inherited. She thanked me for my unsolicited feedback.
When Marcy returned to administer my “pneumonia shot” she was wearing a smile. And she was more than willing to engage in the kind of banter that may not have much substance, but is the currency that most of us use to ease the tension in potentially uncomfortable situations. Obviously, while I was waiting she had been given a quick course in customer service.
Marcy and the receptionists are the face of that office, and it certainly wasn’t a welcoming or friendly face. No one was rude. On the other hand, no one was trying to treat the patients as they would like to be treated themselves. You could accuse me of being a nit picky curmudgeon. You could ask if the addition of a smiling face or two would have made a difference in the quality of care coming out of that office. It may not have, but it wouldn’t have hurt, and it would be the nice thing to do.
But and take some of the edge off the anger of patients who are unhappy about the care they have been receiving. There is some evidence that hospitalized patients in customer-friendly situations do better. And I bet that patients seen in customer-friendly offices staff get better more quickly.
If you are aware of staff members whose behavior could be more customer friendly, have you said something to them? It can be touchy. You probably aren’t their supervisor. They may not being doing anything wrong. But their failure to make a pleasant and caring first impression may be making your job more difficult.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I visited my primary care physician in her new office. As the first patient of the day I was immediately ushered into the examining room by a woman I assume was a medical assistant. She didn’t introduce herself, but her name tag read “Marcy” (not her real name). Her demeanor could best be described as cheerless. She efficiently took my vital signs, asked me my height, and weighed me. She ran through the usual list of screening questions without the slightest hint of a smile despite my efforts to gently inject a bit of levity into my answers.
With her work completed, she left me to wait for “the doctor” without a clue about who I was. She knew that I had one beer and one glass of wine each evening, and that I always wore a seatbelt and didn’t have gun. But she hadn’t provided any outward evidence that she cared about the person who had been providing the answers.
There was a welcome lifting of the chill when my former colleague and current physician entered the exam room. After we had done some catching up about our families and before we started talking about my blood pressure I said, “Marcy really needs to lighten up a bit.”
My observation came as no surprise to my doctor. The transition to a new hospital-owned group practice still had some rough edges including the struggle to instill a more customer-friendly culture among the support staff that she had inherited. She thanked me for my unsolicited feedback.
When Marcy returned to administer my “pneumonia shot” she was wearing a smile. And she was more than willing to engage in the kind of banter that may not have much substance, but is the currency that most of us use to ease the tension in potentially uncomfortable situations. Obviously, while I was waiting she had been given a quick course in customer service.
Marcy and the receptionists are the face of that office, and it certainly wasn’t a welcoming or friendly face. No one was rude. On the other hand, no one was trying to treat the patients as they would like to be treated themselves. You could accuse me of being a nit picky curmudgeon. You could ask if the addition of a smiling face or two would have made a difference in the quality of care coming out of that office. It may not have, but it wouldn’t have hurt, and it would be the nice thing to do.
But and take some of the edge off the anger of patients who are unhappy about the care they have been receiving. There is some evidence that hospitalized patients in customer-friendly situations do better. And I bet that patients seen in customer-friendly offices staff get better more quickly.
If you are aware of staff members whose behavior could be more customer friendly, have you said something to them? It can be touchy. You probably aren’t their supervisor. They may not being doing anything wrong. But their failure to make a pleasant and caring first impression may be making your job more difficult.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I visited my primary care physician in her new office. As the first patient of the day I was immediately ushered into the examining room by a woman I assume was a medical assistant. She didn’t introduce herself, but her name tag read “Marcy” (not her real name). Her demeanor could best be described as cheerless. She efficiently took my vital signs, asked me my height, and weighed me. She ran through the usual list of screening questions without the slightest hint of a smile despite my efforts to gently inject a bit of levity into my answers.
With her work completed, she left me to wait for “the doctor” without a clue about who I was. She knew that I had one beer and one glass of wine each evening, and that I always wore a seatbelt and didn’t have gun. But she hadn’t provided any outward evidence that she cared about the person who had been providing the answers.
There was a welcome lifting of the chill when my former colleague and current physician entered the exam room. After we had done some catching up about our families and before we started talking about my blood pressure I said, “Marcy really needs to lighten up a bit.”
My observation came as no surprise to my doctor. The transition to a new hospital-owned group practice still had some rough edges including the struggle to instill a more customer-friendly culture among the support staff that she had inherited. She thanked me for my unsolicited feedback.
When Marcy returned to administer my “pneumonia shot” she was wearing a smile. And she was more than willing to engage in the kind of banter that may not have much substance, but is the currency that most of us use to ease the tension in potentially uncomfortable situations. Obviously, while I was waiting she had been given a quick course in customer service.
Marcy and the receptionists are the face of that office, and it certainly wasn’t a welcoming or friendly face. No one was rude. On the other hand, no one was trying to treat the patients as they would like to be treated themselves. You could accuse me of being a nit picky curmudgeon. You could ask if the addition of a smiling face or two would have made a difference in the quality of care coming out of that office. It may not have, but it wouldn’t have hurt, and it would be the nice thing to do.
But and take some of the edge off the anger of patients who are unhappy about the care they have been receiving. There is some evidence that hospitalized patients in customer-friendly situations do better. And I bet that patients seen in customer-friendly offices staff get better more quickly.
If you are aware of staff members whose behavior could be more customer friendly, have you said something to them? It can be touchy. You probably aren’t their supervisor. They may not being doing anything wrong. But their failure to make a pleasant and caring first impression may be making your job more difficult.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].