When I became Writing Center Director in 2008, I was amazed by the high number of “no shows” – that is, students who didn’t show up for their appointments. I worked with the staff to put some practices into place, such as calling students to remind them of their appointments the day before, to reduce the no show rate, and while we were able to bring the rate down, our no show rate remained in the double digits. A few years later, when we adopted an online appointment system, we implemented the pre-loaded script that automatically blocked anyone from making an appointment after three no shows. That had no noticeable effect on our no show rate, either, but it made me feel like I was “doing something.”
A couple years ago, I decided to try a new tactic. Instead of blocking people who have three no shows, I set up our system to send an email to anyone who was a no show that basically says, “Hey, we noticed you missed an appointment. Everything ok?” No stern reminders of our three-no-shows-and-you’re-out policy, no guilt trips. Our no show rate remains unchanged, but now I regularly get emails from students who missed an appointment thanking me for checking in and sometimes giving me a glimpse into the complicated lives they lead that caused them to miss an appointment: childcare fell through, they were up late because of a chronic health condition and overslept, they got called into work unexpectedly, their car got stolen, their doctor changed their medication and adjusting to it has made life more difficult. Sometimes the information they give me provides an opportunity for me to refer them to offices on campus that can help; sometimes all I can do is convey my sympathy for their situation.
Here’s the takeaway: I can be a jerk and block them from making future appointments or I can be compassionate and connect with them as a human, but the no show rate will likely remain the same. I prefer to be compassionate and connect as a human. There is no benefit to the Writing Center, me, or the student if I block a student trying to adjust to a new medication from making appointments.
Earlier this week, the company that we rented my husband’s CPAP machine from came to the house to collect his CPAP machine. They did not know he had passed away—all they knew is that the usage data being communicated to them by the machine indicated my husband hadn’t used the machine at all in a few weeks. According to our rental agreement, that is “noncompliance” and after three weeks of noncompliance, we are obligated to return the machine.
So, on Tuesday morning, while I was in a meeting, I got an email saying someone was on their way to the house to get the machine. Twelve minutes later, sure enough, someone knocked on the door and demanded the machine. Because I was in a meeting and not checking my email, my daughter answered the door, assumed I had been expecting the machine pick-up and handed over the machine along with some other items she mistakenly thought went with it. It wasn’t until after my meeting, when I saw the email and read the “receipt” they later emailed that I realized what had happened.
The receipt said “patient not compliant, we need our equipment back.” The receipt also indicated that my husband was “not home” at the time.
This is a great example of enforcing a policy like a jerk, just as I was doing in the Writing Center when I blocked students who were no shows from making future appointments. I’m guessing the company’s noncompliance rate is like the Writing Center’s no show rate: fairly stable whether the company acts like a jerk or shows some compassion and connects with patients on a human level.
Do you have policies you implement like a jerk in your classroom, department, or workplace? Can you imagine ways to replace being a jerk with showing compassion and connecting on a human level?
**The CPAP company, if you’re interested, is AdaptHealth and they have not acknowledged my messages about how they handled the CPAP machine retrieval.