“Say what you want about women in the fire protection field, but she’s a real professional!“
“You may not agree with him very often, and you may not like the way he looks, but that man is a true professional.”
I agree with those I overheard sharing at a recent meeting of the Society of Fire Protection Engineers. The two people they were talking about do, indeed, carry the marks of professionalism.
What are those marks? What are the qualities that make us “feel good” about the competency of one working in our chosen field of endeavor?
I think I have a few clues. In the next few blog posts, I want to share these with you, because I’m pretty certain that you and I should be aspiring in these directions on a regular basis.
Compassion. I’ve chosen one of the seemingly warm fuzzy qualities as the first. I guess I’ve done that because the popular media has lately been pushing a mindset of tough negotiation and strident political discourse. In reading this literature, or listenting to the broadcasts, I don’t find any room for compassion, and I know that it is a critical seasoning in the recipe of life.
Have I ever told you that I like my dentist back in Connecticut where I used to live? In fact, I really like him. And, not only do I like him, he’s a real professional. He carries the marks of a professional. Among many important qualities, he has compassion.
Cartoonists depict dentists as persons recruited from a sadistic subculture that lurks around the biology laboratories at colleges and universities. The expression “It’s like pulling teeth” came about for a reason, as anyone who has had a tooth pulled knows first hand.
And yet, there are ways of pulling teeth that are somehow more compassionate than others. Case in point. My dentist, John Rosenlieb, recently under took to remove one of my upper teeth.
Instead of taking a 42-inch long needle on the end of a Novocain syringe, John carefully used a topical anesthetic to numb the outer tissue in my mouth. Then, ever so gently, he inserted a normal-sized needle into the tissue and began to push in the deadening fluid.
From past experience, I braced myself for a mouth-wrenching shock, as the entire upper portion of my face was blasted by this devil-potion. But, alas, John only gently squirted a little bit of the Novocain into my mouth, waited for the tissue to become partly numb, and then pushed in some more. It probably took him the better part of five or six minutes to accomplish the task of numbing the tissue deeply enough to be able to extract the errant tooth.
What was the difference between John and others who had clanked around inside the Wilson mouth? John did what needed to be done, but he did it with compassion.
Certainly, his time was valuable. Just as valuable as any dentist’s. He had every reason, from a coldly economic viewpoint, to rush through the procedure with dispatch and let the pain simply be accepted as a part of the procedure. But, he didn’t do that. He took the time he needed to treat me with compassion.
Later on in the procedure there was a moment where a nerve ending turned just a shade raw and an involuntary tear slid out of the corner of my eye. “It’s OK, Big D,” John said softly, “we’re almost done.” That’s compassion. And, compassion is one of the marks of a true professional.
- Equipped with knowledge and the wisdom to apply that knowedge.
- Gifted in communicating with patients, so that they actually understand the treatment that is necessary to restore them to a proper level of dental health.
- The presence to command respect without having to say anything.
- A strong sense of ethics in handling the business side of dentistry and in working with his assitant, Linda Petersen (who is also a professional).
- Honesty in dealing with diagnosis and with any negatives involved in treatment.
All of these qualities are certainly a part of John Rosenlieb, DMD. And, he has compassion.
I like my dentist from Connecticut. I like him a lot! He carries the marks of a professional.
In your industry, and in mine, as we strive to produce a product, or provide a service, that has significant value to our customers or constituents, may it be said of you and me: “There’s a professional!”
I don’t know how all this strikes you, but I’m going to start being more compassionate.
When I deal with a contractor who obviously hasn’t done his or her homework. Or, when someone on a committee takes a position that I believe is intolerable. Or, when one of my employees disappoints me over some truly trivial issue. I’m going to season my response with compassion. I know it will make me a better person. How about you?
The Moore-Wilson Sigaling Report—Vol. 2 No. 1 for April/May 1990
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