“This could be big,” he said after I told him about the company who wants me to cover their 100+ employees. I pay him to give me the stark reality of things, but his optimism made me uncomfortable. ”You’ve got to go for this. I know you don’t feel ready for it yet, but this could really be huge for your business, and I don’t think you should pass this up.”
I sighed. Yes, this is a victory of sorts (still only theory, not reality), but what if I can’t deliver? What if I fail?
“You know,” a colleague told me during another phone conversation, “you are the buzz of the medical community right now. We talked about you for half an hour at lunch today…and it was all good!” He went on to use phrases like “our only hope,” and “the way out,” to describe the potential for my practice model.
“No,” I thought, “I am not Obi-Wan. I’m not your only hope.” I sighed. I don’t want that kind of pressure on me before I even see my first patient. What if I fail?
Even worse: what if I succeed?
One of the main things that separates good clinicians from the rest is the ability to think through contingencies. When I order a test or prescribe a treatment I have to consider the possible outcomes: if the test shows X, then we do Y; if it shows not-X, then we do Z. Or, here’s the plan if you get better on the medication, and here’s the plan if you don’t. The more contingencies I can anticipate and plan for, the more direct the path to the ultimate destination: resolution (or management) of the problem. I find that my experience in thinking through contingencies serves me well in my current job of building a new and innovative practice.
