For a while, things genuinely felt better.

Culture had improved.
Morale was higher.
The team seemed more aligned.

I thought that if we created a healthier environment, it would shield us from extreme behaviors — the kind that derail everything.

I believed stability would compound.

About a month after our OM started, she began calling off.

At first, it didn’t feel alarming.
Life happens.
People get sick.
Things come up.

Over the next few months, it became more frequent.

We tried to handle it the way modern management tells you to:
with empathy,
clear expectations,
and reasonable reminders.

My operations director — who is exceptionally kind and level-headed — was the one having those conversations.
Nothing confrontational.
Nothing harsh.
Just clarity around responsibilities.

Then came the week that changed everything.

She called off three times in one week.

And that same week, something else happened.

The rest of the team started picking up on it.
Calling off more.
Pushing boundaries.
Testing what was acceptable.

Behavior spreads faster than policy ever will.

The moment that broke me wasn’t the call-offs.

It was what happened next.

After a very reasonable reminder — delivered calmly, respectfully, and with empathy — she quit.

Immediately.
No discussion.
No attempt to resolve anything.

The reaction felt wildly disproportionate to the situation.

When my operations director told me, my first feeling wasn’t anger.

It was surprise.

Then disbelief.

I couldn’t wrap my head around how an adult could react so extremely to such a reasonable interaction.

But what unsettled me most wasn’t her decision.

It was what the situation revealed about the system I was operating in.

No matter how much the culture improved.
No matter how much effort we put into leading thoughtfully.
No matter how empathetic or clear we tried to be.

I was still exposed to unpredictable human reactions.

And for my personality, that unpredictability is everything.

I can handle hard problems.
I can handle complexity.
I can handle pressure.

What gives me anxiety is volatility without rules.
Outcomes that hinge on emotional reactions.
Situations where stability depends on how someone feels that day.

And in that moment, it became painfully clear:

That’s when a very clear thought crossed my mind:

I don’t want my mental health or my financial future to depend on unpredictable human behavior ever again.

It wasn’t about quitting.
It wasn’t about blame.
It wasn’t about giving up.

It was about protecting myself.

At the time, I still didn’t know what the alternative looked like.
Selling wasn’t on my mind.
Partnering wasn’t on my radar.

But I knew one thing with certainty:

I could not keep building my life on this level of fragility.

Once I saw that clearly, there was no unseeing it.

If you know another dentist who’s stuck in the endless grind, feel free to share this with them — nobody should feel like they’re going through this alone. We can commiserate together.

Thanks for reading FUTURE // NOW.

More soon.

— Kevin