Running a dental clinic for children would be simple and fun, or so I thought. They smile, we smile. Easy, right? But it’s only through losses and
loans did I understand, behind every sparkling smile there should be a hidden world of operations, marketing, follow-ups, staff training, MIS reports,
and tax filings. It’s less like a graceful ballet and more like juggling while riding a unicycle.
Over the past 20 years of dental practice, I’ve learned that practice management isn’t just about perfect pediatric dentistry—it’s about drilling
down into systems. My early years were full of mistakes (some spectacular), but each taught me something valuable. So instead of boring you with
theory, let me share three lessons I learned the hard way. If you’re a dentist dreaming of scaling up, a clinic owner in the trenches
(been there and done that ), or even a curious reader, you’ll find nuggets here to help you grow—and maybe laugh a little along the way.
1. When Turnover Tricks You
In my early years, I committed one of the most common financial blunders: I treated clinic turnover as personal income. Every rupee that came in was
mine—or so I thought. Clinic money paid for groceries, holidays, and household bills. Basically, my clinic doubled as my ATM.
This illusion shattered quickly. When salaries, consumables, or equipment bills rolled in, I often came up short.
I was working harder than ever but felt broke at the end of every month.
That’s when I realized something fundamental: the clinic is its own entity. Its money is not my money. My role is not “owner who dips in” but “CEO who manages.”
A simple mantra put it all in perspective:
👉 Turnover is vanity, profit is reality, and cash flow is sanity.
Here’s how I fixed it:
- Separate accounts. The clinic got its own dedicated financial system.
- Draw a salary. Like every staff member, I paid myself a fixed monthly amount.
- Save consistently. Even from my salary, I forced myself to save a little.
- Set targets. I worked with realistic financial goals—for clinic growth and personal stability.
This wasn’t just a financial shift—it was a psychological one. Paying myself a salary gave clarity and discipline. If you treat your clinic’s
money like an endless wallet, it’ll evaporate. Treat it like a business, and it will grow.
2. Shouting Into the Void (Why Marketing Needs Measurement)
For 15 years, my marketing strategy was simple: smile and hope patients come back. And to be fair, it worked a little. We built a base of 30,000 patients.
But here’s the catch—we had no structured follow-ups, no reactivation, no system. Patients would disappear into the crowd, and we’d assume they’d “remember us.” They didn’t.
I also believed the old myth: in healthcare, word of mouth is enough. Spoiler alert—it’s not. Marketing is not optional. But here’s the twist: marketing without measurement is just noise.
That’s when I discovered two life-saving acronyms:
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CAC (Customer Acquisition Cost): How much it costs to bring in a new patient.
- LTV (Lifetime Value): How much revenue a patient generates over their journey with us.
Without these, marketing was guesswork. With them, marketing became strategy.
Today, we track and optimize everything:
-
Excel sheets with dropdowns track leads, conversions, and campaigns.
- Automated reminders and calls nudge patients about checkups.
- Feedback boxes collect brutally honest insights.
The feedback, in particular, is humbling. As an optimistic founder, I focus on the wins. Patients, however, point out delays,
miscommunications, or small lapses that matter a lot to them. Their honesty has helped us improve far more than my self-congratulations ever did.
The lesson? Marketing brings patients in. Follow-ups, measurement, and feedback keep them coming back. And no, follow-ups are not pestering—they’re caring.
After all, even dentists forget their own checkups sometimes.
SOPs and Smiles (Patient Care Goes Beyond Treatment)
As pediatric dentists, we know this deeply: treatment isn’t just clinical, it’s emotional. A child doesn’t just need a filling; they
need comfort, cartoons, and compassion. Their cavity may bring them in, but the experience brings them back.
For years, my team and I added these human touches instinctively. But as we scaled to multiple clinics, I noticed something troubling:
the patient experience wasn’t consistent. One doctor played cartoons, another didn’t. One spent time building rapport, another got straight to work. Patients noticed the difference.
That’s when it hit me: just like a pulpectomy has defined steps, patient experience also needs defined steps.
We began creating Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs)—not only for treatments, but for experiences:
- Warm greetings at the front desk.
- Playing a child’s favorite show before the procedure.
- Spending 30–60 seconds building rapport.
- Consistent follow-up calls after treatment.
And here’s the key: these SOPs aren’t just for doctors. They’re for everyone—front desk staff, dental assistants, doctors, and even the follow-up team. Why? Because a smile is built by the entire clinic, not just the person holding the drill.
This system shines during staff transitions. When someone leaves and a new team member joins, induction becomes smooth. Instead of shadowing for weeks, they receive documented SOPs upfront, making training easy and ensuring patients don’t feel the bumps of turnover.
Of course, writing SOPs isn’t enough. They need reinforcement. Just as clinical habits take years to become second nature, non-clinical habits also need repetition. So we revisit SOPs in meetings, remind each other, and repeat until they become culture.
The golden rule? Anything undocumented cannot be replicated. Document it, repeat it, and watch your team create consistent magic even in your absence and/or cross clinics.
Conclusion: Learning, Unlearning, and Growing Together
Looking back, I smile at my own naivety. I thought running a clinic was about fixing teeth and collecting smiles. In truth, it’s about systems—financial discipline, measurable marketing, and standardized patient care.
But here’s what I know now: just like life has infinite possibilities and growth opportunities, there are also infinite mistakes waiting for us in practice management. And that’s perfectly fine. Mistakes aren’t failures; they’re tuition fees for the school of experience.
The only honest way to grow is through open discussions—sharing mistakes, learnings, and even “unlearnings” with colleagues, friends, and fellow professionals. Together, we can build platforms not just for clinics, but for collaboration, growth, and dreams.
So here I am, sharing mine. May they help you make fewer mistakes, dream bigger, and keep building a world full of beautiful smiles. Even before this is published I would have made some more beautiful mistakes, so will have new stories to share.