What’s Hanging Over Your Practice? Leadership Lessons from Ted Lasso — Episode 7

Hanging over a desk in a client’s office I was visiting was a framed sign that read, “It’s been a long week.” Underneath, in smaller letters: “Me, in the middle of Tuesday.”

I understood the joke. I’ve had those Tuesdays. Occasionally, I’ve had them on Monday and Thursday. Dentistry can do that to you. A team member calls out, a patient arrives late, something breaks, and the schedule you carefully constructed starts looking like a suggestion.

But someone had taken that feeling, put it in a frame, and given it a permanent home in the office. That got me thinking. What were the people who worked there being reminded of every day? And what might that message say to a new employee who arrived excited about the opportunity?

Welcome aboard. Friday can’t come soon enough.

Earlier in this series, we explored Ted Lasso’s BELIEVE sign and why the leader has to believe first. Tas the team coalesced, they added sticky notes. That give us another question to consider: What are your people adding to your message? What does belief mean to each of them, and how does their contribution change what the team sees? 

Now imagine a BELIEVE sign hanging in your practice. Hand everyone a sticky note and ask them to write down something they believe about working there. You might get answers that make you proud. You might also discover that the practice you think you’re leading and the one your team experiences aren’t quite the same place.

You might not need the sticky notes to begin finding out. Just listen.

“We’re expensive.”​

I’ve heard that in practices where the doctor has invested years in education, assumed debt to purchase the best equipment, andbuilt a team capable of delivering exceptional care. Yet the person explaining the fee sounds almost embarrassed by it. Before the patient has decided whether the treatment is worth the investment, someone inside the practice has already suggested that it might not be.

Of course, treatment can cost a significant amount of money. Patients have real financial limitations, and respecting those limitations by giving treatment options is part of caring for them. But what does “expensive” mean? Compared with what? And what does the team understand about the care behind that fee?

If all they see is the number, their hesitation makes sense. Has anyone helped them understand the judgment, preparation, skill, and follow-through that number represents? Has the doctor shared the stories of patients who can chew comfortably again, sleep better, or smile without covering their mouths?

A team that understands the value has something useful to explain. A team that doesn’t may simply apologize for the price.

“It’s all about the production.”

That belief rarely appears out of nowhere. If every morning meeting begins with yesterday’s shortfall and ends with today’s target, the team can be forgiven for concluding that production is the purpose of the practice.

I’m a former practice owner. I understand that payroll doesn’t get covered by warm feelings. A financially unhealthy practice eventually compromises everyone’s future. But when we talk about the numbers, do we connect them to the people behind them? Do we celebrate someone finally getting the care they’ve postponed, or only the dollars attached to their decision?

The doctor may believe that excellent care creates a successful business. The team may hear that a successful business requires filling every opening with something billable. Those beliefs can produce very different conversations with patients.

“This would be a great job if it weren’t for the patients.”

There’s usually a laugh, or at least a nod, after that one. Sometimes it follows an encounter that would test the patience of a saint. People can be demanding, frightened, late, suspicious, or convinced that their insurance company knows more about dentistry than their dentist.

Still, the patients are why we’re there. Their anxiety, confusion, and competing priorities are part of the work we’ve accepted. When we repeatedly describe them as the obstacle to enjoying our jobs, we make it easier to greet the next question with a sigh or interpret the next concern as a nuisance.

And the doctor sets the example. If you emerge from a treatment room rolling your eyes about “that patient,” don’t be surprised when your team learns the routine. You’ve just delivered a leadership lesson of your own.

“Thank God it’s almost Friday.”

I enjoy weekends, too. Nobody needs to demonstrate commitment to a practice by mourning the arrival of Saturday. But there’s a difference between looking forward to time away and spending the week counting down to escape.

When that becomes the most dependable source of shared enthusiasm, I want to know why. Is the schedule consistently unreasonable? Are people working without enough support? Does someone feel that no matter how much they do, the only thing the doctor notices is what they missed?

That framed Tuesday joke might simply be a joke. It might also offer an opening for a conversation the practice needs to have. Taking it down won’t fix an exhausting workplace.

This is where leadership gets more demanding than hanging an inspirational sign. You have to notice the beliefs circulating around you, consider how you’ve helped create them, and decide what you’re willing to do about them. Sometimes the team needs a fuller understanding of the practice’s purpose. Sometimes the practice needs to operate in a way that makes its stated purpose believable.

At your next team meeting, try the sticky notes. Ask everyone to finish this sentence: “Around here, we believe…” Invite honesty, including the answers you may find uncomfortable. Before defending yourself or correcting anyone, ask everyone, “What happens here that makes someone believe that?”

Then choose one recurring problem and agree on something concrete you’ll change. Return to it at the next meeting. People will pay much more attention to what you follow through on than to what you put in a frame.

Ted’s sign gives us a place to start. Your team’s words tell you where the work is.

You may have written the mission statement. But who’s writing the messages your team lives by?