Clear communication key to building client relationship

I know the archetypal American used to be a fugitive from a “frat house” movie and it sometimes suited our purpose to think of our transatlantic cousins as being loud and with strange tastes in television, but the world has moved on since those days.

Having spent several days at the North American Veterinary Community (NAVC) conference in Florida, I can attest to a rather more engaged people than our media might suggest, and some of the most interesting conversations I’ve had in a while.

Of course, we are different in a wide range of ways and we fool ourselves if we believe sharing (most of) a common language creates an inevitable similarity, but the people I met were interesting and interested in what we do over here and how we do it.

There was a time, maybe 30 or 40 years ago, when we could have looked to some of our US colleagues to be ahead of the game, but now most of us would think the standard of medicine practised on either side of the Atlantic is largely comparable and our understanding of key health issues would be similar.

To be fair, when there was disagreement between colleagues, the range and scale of it seemed wider or greater than we might see things here and perhaps some of that rests with a degree of British reserve, but we seem to have much in common with many of our US colleagues.

Understanding the client relationship

On the eight-hour flight home, it occurred to me where things differ most is in our understanding of the client relationship.

It’s not that we don’t understand what our clients want, but do we seek to lift the lid on that recurrent British reserve and engage fully with both the client and the all-important stream of communication between us? Some readers will be supremely confident their communication skills are above reproach, but I’ve been thinking about mine and have decided my own, self-appointed jury is out on the matter.

At home, I am frequently informed by “management” I either haven’t listened properly to a conversation I was previously confident of 20:20 recall, or I have developed a selective deafness.

When my children were younger, I rarely found either they or I were in accord about much at all, not even the simplest of arrangements, let alone anything more esoteric or taxing. On that count, I appear to occupy the minority
position within my own household in terms of “entente cerebrale” and have scored poorly in any assessment of my ability to communicate.

In my mind, I am usually the aggrieved partner in this process and find it hard to understand why there is a scintilla of disagreement about things that seemed perfectly straightforward to me.

Of course, communication is all about the skills of talking and listening, and, to be honest, I appear to be scoring poorly on both fronts. Putting aside any sense of grievance that what appeared to be the simplest of arrangements could end up in disagreement, I’ve been trying to train myself to be better at both skills.

I’ve made a real effort to order my thoughts, think before engaging my mouth and ensure I can explain something in simple terms without being patronising. In theory, for a comparatively well-educated, seemingly mature adult with several decades of experience of talking to people from all walks of life, and in almost every continent, this ought to be not only feasible, but pretty straightforward. The reality seems to be different.

All too often, I find myself rehearsing something important I want to say and finding, at the moment of delivery, an irresistible alternative has taken its place.

Not only that, but, far too often, I find myself planning and executing a response to something someone is telling me without properly hearing the person out. Maybe this is because I’m getting old and doddery or because I’m so egocentric I’m more interested in my own response than attending to the narrative.

Of course, I think neither of these can be a reliable explanation. I’m rather keen on hearing your reassurance so I’ve made an effort to stop and listen, at this point, rather than barrelling on with my next point… I’m certain I’ve not suddenly become so self-absorbed this can be the root cause, but can I be sure?

Maybe the truth lies somewhere in the middle. I am certainly older than I was and it is possible my poor, addled brain is struggling to keep up with everything else it appears to need in an instantaneous time frame.

I must confess to becoming a little intolerant of certain traits, so maybe I’m getting to the point when people might smile knowingly and make a determined detour around me to avoid hearing a story I think is illustrative of a point we could be discussing.

Communication is a skill, not a function

It is at this point when I look up anxiously to check you haven’t got tired with all this and gone for a welcome pint and a chat with someone more interesting.

The real point here is communication is a skill, not an autonomic function. “I am, so I speak,” might be a fine position for a recalcitrant poet, but the approach does little to win friends or influence people.

Going back to my US visit, it became clear most Americans have developed the admirable art of communicating clearly and without artifice. They appear interested in what someone has to say, tend not to look over one’s shoulder to see if anyone more interesting has arrived and, in most cases, seem content to listen for at least 50% of the duration of the encounter.

At NAVC, there were numerous lectures on communicating with clients, a skill in which they seem happy to invest time and money. Over here, we talk with confidence about veterinary medicine being an art and a science, but, the older I get, the more I’m coming to realise simple communication is both these things too.

In my experience, it’s quite easy to fudge the science, but remarkably hard to master the art of communication.