Trust And Generosity In Business At The Louisville Ironman, With Two Veterinary Customer Tales

Endurance athletes are always trying to build a better engine, so here is an engine to emulate. Photo taken by FitOldDog the day before the 2013 Louisville Ironman race.

“If you don’t trust the people,
you make them untrustworthy.”

Tao te Ching by Lao-tsu, translated by S. Mitchell.

Hi folks, welcome!

At the swim practice for the 2013 Louisville Ironman race today, I had no money on me – Natalie and Paula kindly provided a coffee trusting me to pay later, which I did. They earned my respect and trust in return, plus link juice from this site for a great mission – click image to see it. Thanks! The coffee was great.

In my early twenties I spent three years working as a general veterinary practitioner, mainly in large animal (cows, pigs and such) or farm practice, during which time I learned the value of understanding what my customers (farmers) valued. I am now attempting to apply this little byte of  savvy to my online business, Old Dogs in Training LLC, as I seek my customer base by testing a range of products. It has also become clear, since then, that one needs to be trusting and generous towards potential clients, as you will often receive the same in return.

Here I present a couple of relevant tales from my time as a country vet in England, UK, in the late 1960s. I was young, and I looked young, but at the time of the events described below I had three years experience under my belt. So I took no truck from truculent farmers. My Mom trained me well! Before you read these brief stories, I would like to assure you that I made plenty of mistakes during my years as a vet, but these two cases I got right!

Veterinary Tale #1 Beef Steer With Damaged Eye:

It was a hot summers day, work was light, and three or four veterinarians in our small country practice were sitting around the office chatting late in the afternoon, considering a quick trip to the local pub. We were all hoping that the phone wouldn’t ring. Especially me, as the youngest and newest member. I was low on the pecking order. Then the phone rang. Once it was clear who was on the phone faces looked grim. None of these older vets wanted to go to that farm. In fact, I sensed they were all a bit nervous, so the boss (one of the partners) turns to me and says, “Kevin’s never been there, so let’s see how he gets on with them.” Nothing was explained. Off I went on a 15-mile drive to the farm in question, while they adjourned to the pub.

At the farm, a somewhat seedy beef unit, I was greeted, if that’s the right word, by a very large and very hostile farmer, accompanied by two very large and very unfriendly sons. They all wanted to know why our veterinary practice had sent a child to treat their cattle. But I knew their type! I’d dealt with such already. I simply asked where the animal was. The reply was the typical put you down joke: “out int’ pasture, where d’you think tis, you’re the vetinry (that’s how they said it, anyway), you should know.” I thought, “OK! So that’s how it’s going to be.”

Out I go, following them to the field where a single beef steer was pacing restlessly in the distance. In fact, as far away from us as possible. I instructed (ordered would be a better word) them to chase the steer past me in such a way that I could see his bad eye. They finally managed this, very reluctantly and with great difficulty. A steer that cannot see out of one eye is loath to come near you from his blind side. But past me he went for one brief moment. The eye was weeping thick green pus and the steer was obviously losing weight.

I immediately turned tail and walked off to my car without saying a word, with them cursing my back. In the car I wrote out a ticket to cover the expense of my visit, with no cost for treatment, recommending slaughter. This was a purely economical decision, and they knew that I knew that. But what impressed them was the fact that I was able to make such a call. I wasn’t wasting their time with treatment that could cost more than they might hope to gain from their investment. Nothing more was said by the farmer as I handed him the ticket and left, except for a kurt, “Good afternoon to you!”

Outcome: After that I was the only vet they would have on their farm. I could do no wrong. I understood my client. They needed a vet who made decisions for them based on the economics of the situation. Their stock were all about revenue. How did I know that? They referred to the steer as it, whilst to me the unfortunate patient was he!

Veterinary Tale #2 Jersey Cow With Broken Jaw:

This case was a completely different kettle of fish. I went on a routine call to carry out pregnancy diagnosis and a range of other standard tasks on a small dairy farm near our practice office. I liked the farmer, who was gentle and very shy, as were his dairy cows. At the end of the visit he turns to me and says, “I doubt you can do anything for my old cow”, Mabel (I think it was), “but I was wondering if you would just take a look. I’ve had her for over 20 years, and she been a great milker and she’s a gentle soul. But I doubt you’ll have the time or me the money to help her out.” This wasn’t about money, this guy loved this old Jersey cow. So I took a look, and she turned out to have a broken jaw (she had separated the midline mandibular symphysis).

Within an hour or so, on my own time with no expense for the farmer, or the practice apart from a length of stout catgut, I had that jaw all fixed up. I warned the farmer to provide liquid food or paste for a few days, then feed silage and finally hay, with some protein concentrate. I used to know all that cattle feed stuff back then, but memories fade after 45 years. To cut a long story short, that old cow was right as rain when I checked by two weeks later.

Outcome: I met his need, which was an emotional rather than a commercial one. Once again, that old farmer would always ask for me when he needed veterinary services.

Imagine if I had done the logical thing, medically, to fix the steer’s eye and send the old cow off for slaughter. Medically sound, but completely the wrong thing to do. I did, as I said, make many mistakes as a vet in practice, but I sure was happy to see that old Jersey cow chewing the cud again, and the smile on that old farmer’s face.

Such events populate one’s mind as fond memories of one’s youth. I better get to bed now, another Ironman race to tackle in the morning, and my youth is behind me, but he still lives on in my heart, even today.

-k @FitOldDog