One Moment That Changed How I See Client Experience

I still remember the very first time I went to confession and to be honest, it scared me so badly that I didn’t go back again until I was an adult. That first experience felt like the kid version of terrifying.

I had no idea what I was walking into. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, when I was supposed to say it, or how the whole thing even worked. I just knew that grown-ups talked about confession very seriously… which, to a kid, made it feel like this was important enough to determine whether I was headed toward Heaven or taking the express lane to the “other” place.

I sat in the pew, feet swinging, heart racing, mentally spiraling: What if I mess this up? What if I forget something? What if I say the wrong thing? What if the priest thinks I’m the worst kid ever? The anxiety was very real and it stuck with me long after that day, enough that I avoided confession altogether until adulthood.

Years later, walking back into the confessional as a grown woman, I was still nervous; same butterflies, same fear of the unknown, same “please don’t let me do this wrong” energy. But this time the priest greeted me with warmth instead of formality. Not stern. Not intimidating. Just kind, gentle, and reassuring. He slowed the moment down and walked me through everything step by step: where to sit, when to speak, what to say. No judgment. No pressure. Just guidance.

And suddenly, all that old fear dissolved.

The process hadn’t changed… but the person delivering it had changed everything. I walked out not only feeling about 99% confident I wasn’t going straight to hell, but also thinking, “Wow… this was nothing like what I had been afraid of for all those years.”

That experience stuck with me and over time I realized something powerful: this is exactly how many of our clients feel when they walk into a veterinary clinic.

They arrive nervous. Unsure. Overwhelmed. They don’t always know what questions to ask or what they’re supposed to understand. And often, they’re scared about their pet, the diagnosis, the bill, or the unknown outcome. Just like that nervous kid walking into confession, the emotional tone of their experience is set long before any real “process” even begins.

So if you ever want to truly understand the culture of the clinic you work in, or the one you’re considering, here’s one of the best tools I know: be a fly on the wall.

Sit in the lobby for 15 to 30 minutes and just watch.

• How are people greeted when they walk in?
• Do team members make eye contact and smile… or keep typing?
• Are clients called by name? Are pets remembered?
• Do people leaving look relieved and confident… or frustrated and confused?
• Does anyone take the time to walk them to the door and say, “Have a great day!”?

These little moments tell you everything. Because culture isn’t words on a wall. It’s how people feel the second they walk through the door. A clinic with a healthy culture feels welcoming and safe, even on the busiest days. A struggling culture feels rushed, disconnected, or tense… and clients can sense that instantly.

And here’s the most important part: every single one of us shapes this, no matter our role. You don’t need to be the owner or the manager to influence culture. Culture is built every time you greet a nervous client with a smile, learn a pet’s name, thank a teammate, or slow down just enough to make someone feel seen instead of rushed.

Those first moments matter. Because just like my experience with confession, how we welcome people changes everything about how they experience what comes next.