Raw food. The schedule. Price. Every clinic has an argument that never ends. Here's how to end it, and what to do when someone won't.
Early in my career, I won a lot of arguments. I could outlast almost anyone, from an associate who disagreed with a protocol to a client convinced kibble was poison. Eventually I noticed that winning changed almost nothing. The associate did it my way while I was watching, then theirs when I stepped away. The client nodded in agreement, went home, and kept feeding raw chicken necks.
In my obesity work, I call this a "dinner debate." Two people who want the best for the same dog, trading facts across an exam table, neither budging. Every clinic has its own version. Doctor versus doctor on a drug choice. Front desk versus treatment room on the schedule. Owner versus manager on overtime. An endless parade of dead-end debates.
A dead-end debate is any conversation in which both people are trying to win rather than solve a problem. The question quietly shifts from "What's best for this dog?" to "Who's right?" After that, nobody is listening, and the harder one side pushes, the deeper the other digs in. Plenty of motion, no destination.
We're evidence-based people, so we reach for more evidence. But a challenged belief doesn't feel like data to the person holding it. When researchers showed people evidence against their strongly held beliefs, the brain regions associated with threat and emotion lit up, and the stronger that reaction, the less their minds changed (Kaplan et al., 2016). Quote a raw-feeding client three more studies, and she doesn't hear scientific information. She hears, "You think I'm hurting my dog."
Most of us assume facts earn respect in a disagreement. Not necessarily. Across 15 studies in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, people who shared a personal story earned more respect than people who cited facts (Kubin et al., 2021).
Your raw-feeding client likely has one: the itchy dog whose coat turned glossy after she switched diets. To her, that story outweighs any statistic. So share yours. "I had a patient last spring whose family felt the same way..." gets a listen, then follow up with facts. Rely solely on "studies show," and you'll get a polite nod and another bag of chicken necks.
In a dead-end debate, you're on one side of the exam table, and the client is on the other, with the pet as the prize. Four small steps can bring you around to the same side.
Unfortunately, many practices have one: the team member who treats every conversation like a trial. Picture Jess, a skilled technician who challenges every new protocol in the morning huddle until the meeting stalls. She's often right on the details and cares deeply, so coaching is worth the effort.
Then comes a truth I learned late: you can't change another person. You can hold the door open and mean it. Only they can walk through.
If nothing changes after honest coaching, the kindest thing for your team, and often for that person, is a respectful goodbye. Do it privately, and never as a surprise. Keep it short and warm: "We've talked about this several times, and it hasn't changed. I don't think this is the right fit, and I'd rather be honest than let it drag on." Skip the list of grievances. Thank them for what they did well, offer what help you can, and let them keep their dignity. Most people know it's coming. Some are relieved.
The same goes for the rare client who turns every visit into a fight. A courteous letter, a copy of the records, and thirty days of emergency coverage let them go with grace. It protects your people and frees them to find a practice that fits.
Most people aren't looking for a fight. They're looking for someone to stand beside them. Get on the same side of the table, and watch how often the debate turns into a plan.
PS - Questions or suggestions for "The Altitude"? Email me at
If this month has you rethinking how you handle disagreements, these three will take you further.
"I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own."
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)
Franklin admits in the same passage that, as a young man, he was good at arguing and noticed it was costing him good friends. So he gave up words like "certainly" and "undoubtedly," replacing them with "I imagine" and "it appears to me at present." He credits that one habit with much of his later influence, and he says the change was hard at first and then became second nature.
It's remarkable how closely his self-taught rule matches what the receptiveness research found two and a half centuries later. Hedging your claims isn't weakness. It leaves the other person room to move toward you. That's the whole point of getting on the same side of the table.
The Altitude Monthly
October 2026 Edition
By Dr. Ernie Ward, Chief Veterinary Officer, VerticalVet
Insights on Pets, People, and the Profession to Elevate Your Veterinary Team

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