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It seems like a small thing, but there’s a big message: We don’t care. You are a number to us.
I’m talking about communication from large prestigious medical facilities that sound like solid advice. The kind that medical professionals shrug off with, “What’s the big deal?”
I have a background in marketing. Most of my research was in service delivery – the reaction of customers to the services they received. So I find myself asking, “What does routine communication reveal about the organization’s service philosophy?”
Recently, I had an important test at a hospital I’ll call Y, which is also a major teaching hospital. The doctor had met me right after the test and told me everything was fine and no action was needed.
Two weeks after the test, I got a snail mail letter beginning, “Dear Sir or Madam,” saying that there was a test result that should be discussed ASAP.
If it was ASAP, why did they use snail mail? Was the test result something new they discovered, like maybe the machine was having a bad day and our results call for a review? Was it a one-size-fits-all letter sent to everyone who took the test? Or to a sub-group of patients, based on a meaningful distinction?
I have a portal and I know how to use it. I sent a message to my provider’s office, which confirmed that it was a letter sent to everyone, but intended only for the small percentage of people who do not use email, text or portals. They told me to ignore it. The institution itself acknowledged that the communication was not meant for me.
To them it was not a big deal; to me, it was a sign they couldn’t be bothered to have the letter written by a professional for a few hundred dollars. At the very least, the letter could have said, “We send this to everyone,” and, “If you have a portal, please disregard this letter,” and, “If you have already discussed the results please ignore this letter.”
And how about “Hello” or “Good morning” instead of “Dear Sir or Madam?” I haven’t seen that salutation in years. A prestigious medical institution can’t be bothered to personalize communcations — something many solopreneurs do in their newsletters.
From another local hospital I’ll call X, I received a happy birthday message via the portal. The message suggested I use the day not to celebrate but to review my annual medical tests. I’ve never done screenings but I can think of happier ways to spend my birthday. However, there was a small list of tests attached with a note that I don’t need to have any of them because I was too old.
Surely they have a computer function that can sort on birth date so I wouldn’t get the message at all. If they can’t hire a good systems professional, what else are they not doing?
I also received a large, glossy postcard from Hospital X, urging me to undergo a certain screening test. They wrote in big letters, “This test saves lives.”
That is true. But according to the NNT database, over 500 people must take the test, over a period of years, to save one life. Knowing the truth made me skeptical of the message. I also questioned why a hospital would spend resources on a message that actually undermines informed decision-making.
Messages like these create a lack of trust, which in turn will influence the way people interact with the institution.
I personally find it hard to be even routinely courteous and compliant when I’m treated like a number and sent ambiguous messages that take time to deal with. When a medical professional makes a recommendation, I’m not compliant. I say, “Are you sure? Let me see the evidence.”
Some people may be able to laugh these things off; I can’t help suspecting that some of those people get unnecessary tests and procedures. And there’s a cumulative effect of getting misleading messages over and over again instead of on rare occasions.
For-profit companies understand that customers make decisions based on trust. They understand that communications influence relationships. Why don’t the hospitals? Why are they spending money on things that create skepticism?
