We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Chris Cangeleri. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Chris below.
Chris, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?
As a veterinarian and owner of my own practice, the most rewarding part of the job, the most meaningful, was mentoring my staff. Veterinary medicine is dominated by females, especially at the support level, and my practice was no exception, with seventeen out of twenty employees young women. Many of them started in the kennel at 15 or 16 years of age and I had the privilege of watching as they grew from girls into young adulthood, and beyond. I was a fairly demanding employer, with high expectations for my staff, but no matter how hard I could be on them, they also knew I would always be there for them, sometimes in unexpected ways. They knew I had their backs.
I always had my radar up in case anyone was struggling. As an employer there are plenty of opportunities for that. All you have to do is care enough to notice. You can pick up on subtle clues in how they perform their duties or how they are interacting with their co-workers. In my experience, performance issues at work are often related to some external pressure or crisis. Our approach in such situations was to ask first: are you OK?
I have learned that the early to mid twenties is a particularly fraught time for many young people. They aren’t teenagers any more, and they’re not quite adults, even though they are often expected to assume adult responsibilities. It’s a time when people make mistakes.
So whether it’s providing a lawyer for the time Jen got pulled over and busted for some loose joints, or sitting quietly at the funeral of Nicole’s deceased boyfriend whom I had never met, or referring someone to a trusted mechanic who wouldn’t take advantage of them, or letting Deanna know that failing her exam to get her professional tech license had absolutely no bearing on her value to the practice, it was giving Sarah a second chance when she needed it most.
They knew I was there for them.
Sometimes it’s the little things like giving 16-year-old Amy a ride to the record store so she could buy a CD with some explicit lyrics that her parents wouldn’t approve, explaining how a 401(k) works, or simply taking the time to teach them how to ask for a raise.
It’s attending Joni’s wedding and they liked the pictures you took better than the professional photographer because you knew exactly where to be and what to look for. It’s the slide shows and the holiday parties at your home and staff outings.
It’s being straight with them when the economy tanked and cuts were needed. It was including them in decisions like, should we cut staff or is everyone willing to just work fewer hours when we were slow. It’s taking out loans to meet payroll.
Why is all of that meaningful? Because I got to walk Nicole down the aisle when she eventually found new love. Because of the messages from Erin years after she left the practice to pursue an education in Spain, just to say thanks and to see how I was. Because Jill makes sure to call or message once a month just to chat. Because, years after we both left the practice, Deanna still wanted me to attend her wedding.
There is no amount of money that I would have traded for those opportunities.
Chris, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
My path to veterinary medicine was atypical. Unlike many veterinary students, I never dreamed of working with animals as a child. In fact, I didn’t decide to pursue veterinary school till I was 31 years old, a time when most of my peers were settling into careers. Meanwhile, my wife, Adele, and I earned money selling nail decorations to nail salons and running a karaoke show. We had a lot of flexibility.
It all started with baby raccoons. They were born in our fireplace (which we never used). We could hear soft rustling and purring. We called a wildlife removal company. The man arrived and was able to get the mama coon up the flu to the roof, where he then kicked her off to the ground. He then took four 1-2 day old babies and put them in a bucket. They were hairless and their eyes hadn’t yet opened. We asked what were we supposed to do with them and he replied “put them in the woods, the mother will come back for them.
Following his advice, we placed the bucket ‘o baby raccoons in the wooded preserve that bordered our property, but the sun was setting and it was getting cooler. When we checked, only two of the original four had been retrieved, and the remaining two were starting to show signs of hypothermia. My wife, Adele, wanted to take them in. I said “let nature take its course,” to which she replied “they had a warm safe place, that was nature,” even if it was in our fireplace. She took the babies under her sweatshirt and used a hair drier to warm them until they became more lively. What now? We didn’t have a clue. We called a number of wildlife rescue organizations, and were told they couldn’t help because they weren’t allowed to deal with raccoons. Finally we found an organization willing to give us advice on what to feed. The next day I went to the library and took out a book on wild orphan babies. The people who had helped us worked with a veterinarian who was willing to provide support for wildlife rehabilitators, and so our journey continued. We obtained our wildlife rehabilitation licenses and started working with raccoons, squirrels, opossums, and various birds.
After a year or so, I realized that I wanted to do something more meaningful than sell rhinestones and run karaoke. With more support from Adele than I can possibly describe here, I enrolled in SUNY Stonybrook, and eventually made it to Cornell College of Veterinary Medicine, and graduated in 199 at the age of 40.
I began working at Rocky Point Animal Hospital on Long Island, and in 2003, I bought the practice along with another veterinarian who also worked there. From the start, our goal was to build trust. In veterinary medicine, trust is the most important element to success. If you don’t have the trust of your clients, and your staff, you’re dead in the water. Trust is the foundation upon which everything else rests, and trust was our brand.
Do you have any stories of times when you almost missed payroll or any other near death experiences for your business?
In 2009, we entered a deep recession following collapse of the housing market. By 2010, we were feeling the effects of a struggling economy, as people were forced to make tough decisions, including whether veterinary care could be a part of their shrinking budgets. As business steadily declined, and we were confronted with empty appointment slots, we realized we had to make some changes. At the same time, we were confronted with an increasing number of hardship cases, sick animals that needed care but that the owner could not afford to pay. We handled as many of these cases as we could, often absorbing the cost rather than turn people away.
So we called a meeting with our team and laid out the options. Our goal was to preserve jobs, so rather than letting people go, would the staff be willing to cut back on their hours if there wasn’t enough appointments or procedures scheduled on any given day? To their credit, the staff was unanimous that they would work together to manage their hours until things picked up.
Meanwhile, my partner and I took cuts in our own pay, even as we relied on a line of credit to make payroll.
By 2011 things started to turn around, and we were able to regain our fiscal footing.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
I entered veterinary school after 3 years of undergraduate work. Cornell did not require an undergraduate degree, only that you satisfied the prerequisite pre-vet course work. It seemed like a no-brainer for an older student. What I didn’t realize at the time was that that fourth year of undergrad would have included a basic introduction to anatomy and physiology.
Cornell was in its second year of a new tutorial-based teaching system based upon Harvard Medical School. The idea was small groups working on case-based learning modules, led by a tutor. The problem with the new system was that there were no mechanisms to help you assess how you were doing along the way. No quizzes or other feedback loops. Just a test at the end. Another problem was the disparity in the knowledge and skill of the group tutors. So one group might have as their tutor a guy who literally wrote the book on neuroanatomy, with decades of teaching and clinical experience, while another group tutor may have been a research scientist with little to no teaching or clinical experience.
Those two factors combined, and I wound up flunking out of my first block. I had assumed I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, because everyone was freaking out and very few were confident they were “getting it.” Turns out, it was just me.
It was the most humbling and humiliating experience of my life. It was the first time I had failed at something I really cared about. I had to drop out for that year. I lost the money I had borrowed for tuition. I would be allowed to try again next year.
Fortunately, we had rented a house, and we were still doing karaoke shows, which, along with Adele’s small fixed income was enough to sustain us.
Returning was hard. My new class knew about my failing “Block A,” and it was difficult knowing, or feeling, how they viewed me. I was as open as I could possibly be, and did my best to help whomever I could. Overall, my classmates, both former and current, were very kind.
For my second go-round I was assigned to Dr Delahunta’s group. Dr D was a legendary anatomist, clinician and teacher. With his help and encouragement, I was able to move forward with my education.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://olivercangeleri.com
- Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/oliver-cangeleri/sets/singles?si=2f2d5b8ef144494489ce6f4ab06e137f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing