A Story About Perspective

It was going to be my first liveaboard experience. We had booked our space on the ship for our dive trip in Australia and I was really looking forward to it. We had the luxurious main cabin, with a hot tub outside and personalized attention. It was going to be great.

Then, two weeks before our reservation date, the company went bankrupt.

We got our money back all right, but we had planned our trip around these dates so it was important that we make alternative arrangements. We scrambled to find replacement accommodation aboard another liveaboard vessel.

When I saw the charge for the new excursion, I was surprised at how cheap it was, but by that time we had no choice but to go ahead. When I boarded the ship, I understood why it was so cheap. Our cabin was a simple drab box. The cafeteria reminded me of my days at boarding school. This was miles away from the expectations I had, based on what we had originally planned. It was like going from a five-star hotel to a Motel 6.

You can imagine the "self-talk" conversation I had with myself: This really sucks. I can't believe we're staying here. This is going to be terrible.

And then I took a look at the water and I decided to change the story I was telling myself: I am here for the diving not the amenities. I am going to enjoy this trip, enjoy the dives, and enjoy the people around me.

With that new attitude in mind, I took to the water and had an absolutely unbelievable time. We got to see the Great Barrier Reef up close. I was relaxed and having fun and had (no more issues with my mask) and I loved the energy of being around all these people who were serious divers and who were also having a great time. It was one of the most enriching experiences of my life. I just never wanted to get out of the water. It didn't take long for me to realize that this is what I was here for and the cabin was just a place to sleep in-between dives.

On that same trip we ran into a couple of French women, one of whom was particularly disappointed with her experience. Whereas as I was surprised at how little I paid, she was upset at how much this was costing her, and how little she was getting in return.

I could understand her frustration, after all when I first boarded the boat I didn't have great expectations either. I pulled aside a crewmember and let him know that this young lady needed special attention because she was missing out on the richness of the experience. By the end of the trip, she was as enthralled as I was.

Here's my question: How often is the richness of your experience driven by the expectation you create? How often do you have a patient who you "know" won't accept ideal dentistry based on what you know about their economics, insurance or lifestyle? How often do you let those presumptions guide your actions and limit your presentations?

The fact is if you expect to be disappointed, you'll usually get what you expect. But if you dare to venture beneath the surface and commit yourself fully to what you might find, you often find new depths of experience.