Stage Coach Etiquette
So this weekend there was so much positive stuff going on I almost couldn’t believe it. Up until, “The envelope…please.”
Thursday (the new Friday) got things rolling with Twin Tower of Hygiene Jen and me attending a Pete Carroll Circle of Friends event at LA Live’s Lucky Strike. And if you’re starved for inspiration, I suggest sharing some time with folks who’re committed to transforming young lives often found in the “presumed lost” column. Coach Pete might be the highest paid educator in The Land and what’s the going price for hope?
Yesterday, I met with author David Clow. David’s journalism has appeared in national, local, business and scientific publications. His corporate communications have served Fortune 100 market leaders. David has written a documentary film series Understanding Cities and co-authored a novel Six Lessons for Six Sons. Last week, I opened a package to find David’s latest work A Few Words from the Chair. The book provides an eloquent human insight into what’s missing and the miracle of what’s possible out of the dental “caring” experience. The book needs to be required reading for dental students and graduates, period. And in his note, David actually admitted to admiring my stuff.
And tonight, if I can get my already over-sized head through the door, my TCDC gang and 200 or so close friends will be rolling out to Rancho Cucamonga for our eighth annual Oral Cancer Awareness Night at the Ballpark. If you can find something better to do than hang out with your buddies and share about life saving opportunities that are as easy as a trip to the dentist, let’s get in touch soon.
And then…I opened the mail. First up: the Stage Coach.
I guess I’m just a “bad news first” kind of guy. And more often than not these days, banks’ copy seems to occupy my negative leadoff spot. I’m a little intrigued and puzzled when the institutions we trust with our life hopes and dreams take on a casual regard for responsibility but retain the role of judge and jury over our businesses. Lately, the relationship has almost been the equivalent of our turning over the keys to the family car to a mechanic wearing a mask and carrying a gun.
So when I opened the Wells Fargo envelope I saw a certain VP named Ms. Sheri Wofford had cut my business card limit. Now I guess Ms. Wofford was just doing her job and she must be pretty busy these days because she’s apparently been forced to relinquish her phone number and e-mail address.
And when I can’t speak or write to folks covered by the WF Witness Protection Program, I start wondering. I wondered how my balance that wasn’t close to the limit or my payments that were exponentially more than the minimum posed a threat to the Stage Coach. I wondered how my retaining full employment and benefits with no salary cuts was endangering the economy. Couldn’t help but wonder if Wells Fargo was doing as well as TCDC; wondered if Ms. Wofford was surrounded by happy co-workers and had been on the job for the last 33 years.
Every practice management consultant I’ve met has advised against my being “the bank.” But in the interest of helping my patients live long healthy lives and in the absence of a human banking institution that deserves any trust at all, I politely disagree.
Tomorrow is Father’s Day and my Dad always suggested, “If you can’t say anything nice…” Sorry Dad, just this once:
“Dear Ms. Wofford and the Wells Fargo Gang,
To paraphrase Mr. Bart Simpson, hope you don’t choke on my shorts.
Your faithful small business servant,
JVB…or #2468”
