A Small Biz Survival Story or...Locust Alert!

So, back on March 16, I was sitting in front of my computer at 6 AM, engaged in a 4-hour webinar designed to help private dental practices survive the next 90-days.

And I wasn’t THAT stressed out. The nosebleed at the half-time break was probably just a coincidence.

For the next 10-weeks, I re-wrote balance sheets, applied for SBA loans I thought I’d never receive, and pleaded my case for payment deferrals on business cards and financing. Team Leader Dani remained on the payroll and worked remotely from home; the rest of the team was placed on temporary unemployment insurance. I was hoping we were right about “temporary.”

We had already begun ordering Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) that was either nowhere to be found or on backorder. I took countless webinars, commiserated with colleagues on WhatsApp chats, and wrote newsletters made to look professional by Associate Dr. Lee (who, along with Registered Dental Assistant Kolleen, came onboard at the 6-week mark.) Our entire team periodically stayed in touch using Zoom Conferencing.

I watched Governor Cuomo’s daily morning briefings from NYC and took some inspiration from “New York tough.” I knew we’d need to be Temple City tough as well.

At 10-weeks, we were back. Our amazing general contractor, Jason, had procured materials from as far away as Florida to transform our interior design to somehow express safety and warmth. We took the original ADA safety guidelines and adapted them to our culture and physical structure to generate an improvement. There were and are conversations over our always looking for one more “best idea.”

But what was missing? What relieves anxiety, keeps you thin, and helps manage your blood pressure and tendency to create high drama?

Don’t know about you, but I’ve exercised just about every day of my life after learning how to stumble forward without achieving a three- point landing. During the 10-weeks, there was only walking while masked up and observing social distancing. And before Covid, I already felt like a slacker being limited to riding a stationary bike in a roomful of mirrors and walking while carrying golf clubs. Without my Covid buddy real estate go-getter neighbor around to urge a walking tour of every square inch of Pasadena, I would’ve emerged as Dr. Staypuffman with a bad attitude.

But I guess today we’re better off staying indoors, at least protected from a dangerous viral aerosol with (in my case) 2-3 masks, a shield, a cap and a shower curtain or glorified trash bag masquerading as a “gown.” In fact, when we’re all suited up like dental gladiators and our A/C is down for the count (at least two weeks per quarter Mr. Property Manager), sitting while exercising our fingers can generate a high-altitude Olympian workout and even a puddle. But it seems the indoor brand of anaerobic exercise also produces more drama, higher BPs, and the urge to seek out more tacos.

And today, in addition to the virus (we didn’t know about when we should’ve); we have flames, 121 degrees Fahrenheit in Woodland Hills, and air sharing the texture and appearance of caffeinated almond butter. These days, when I walk out to the car, first thing I do is check the windshield for locusts.

And I almost forgot about the hatred that’s probably the worst airborne contaminant of them all.

When men and women who’ve given their lives to protect us and our Constitution are referenced as “losers” and “suckers,” there just aren’t enough industrial air purifiers in existence to clean up the foul air.

And when NFL players, expressing their First Amendment rights by demonstrating unity before the kick-off are booed, it’s clear “New York tough” isn’t contagious.

I’m hoping the figurative air purifiers of all kinds can do the job and get us all back on track. I’m also hoping a virus hasn’t revealed who we really are.