We were lucky to catch up with Michael Wong recently and have shared our conversation below.

Michael, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. What did your parents do right and how has that impacted you in your life and career?

People are always floored when I tell them that I spent more time in the principal’s office than in the classroom. Through much of elementary and all of middle school, I would routinely get kicked out of class. I was suspended for two weeks in 7th grade for lighting fireworks in shop/woodworking class. Many of my friends’ parents didn’t want me to hang out with their kids. To them, I was that long-haired, denim-wearing, defiant metalhead punk…

I wasn’t bad, just a bit rebellious and profoundly understimulated by school. I was actually a great student. I was in the 99th percentile in the tests that show how “intelligent” you are and was even in the “gifted” program. Now I find this so ridiculous, especially as a parent of three kids in elementary school, the way society labels children as “gifted” or alternatively… “giftless” I guess? But I digress.

So what did my parents do right to take me from the principal’s office to being CEO of North America’s largest, fastest-growing, privately-owned veterinary neurology business?

First off, they would never let me say something like “I’m CEO of North America’s largest, fastest-growing, privately-owned veterinary neurology business.” They would encourage me, then keep me in check. “Be humble.” “There’s always someone above you and someone below you.” “Don’t get too big for your britches, Michael.”

COMPETITION and WINNING

Growing up, I played tennis, soccer, baseball, volleyball… pretty much every sport. I didn’t have the patience for golf or the height for basketball, but pretty much everything else came easy. I was naturally competitive. I loved being number one, winning the tournament, taking home the trophy. My parents taught me that winning was the result of the work I put in off the field combined with my effort on the field; that winning wasn’t the goal, it was just the outcome.

“Win or lose, you need to always do your best…”

“… and have fun!”

My parents taught me to keep things in perspective. Winning is important, but it’s not the only thing, and it shouldn’t come at the expense of other things that are also important.

Despite being an all-star, MVP, captain of multiple teams and only one of four freshmen to make the varsity baseball team, my most-prized awards were for sportsmanship. How you play the game matters. I was always the first to line up, shake hands and say “good game”. I was always the first to help someone up if they fell (or if I knocked them over). I always encouraged the new guy when the pressure was on.

I believe this has transferred into how I approach business. On the one hand, I want to win. Excellence matters. But what game are we playing? And who’s keeping score?

Does it matter if our company is the biggest, the fastest-growing, or the most-valued? I’d rather be remembered as someone who gave my best for my patients, their pet parents, and the people I work with. I’d rather be remembered as a humble guy that kept a family whole by helping their pet walk again. I’d rather be remembered for how I treated others and how I played the game rather than what the final score was.

RESILIENCE and POSITIVITY

When I was a junior in high school, my dad met me at the door when I arrived home after tennis practice. My dad was one of two assistant managers at a regional blood bank for over 20 years. He had two bachelor’s degrees, a Master of Science, and an MBA. He had an office right off the lab floor. He was well-liked by his co-workers.

I remember going to the blood bank as a kid. Obviously, I never donated blood as a six-year-old, but I can still taste the generic Oreos and Mr. Pibb that were there for donors. I remember the smell of the lab. I remember being mischievous and wearing the adult-size costume of their mascot, a “bloodhound”. I’m sure my dad has even more memories.

Dad had worked there for 20+ years. And seemingly overnight, the company merged with a larger group and my dad was let go. Just like that.

I don’t remember exactly how long he was unemployed. He eventually landed a job with a software company to help make blood banks safer, more accurate and more efficient.

I remember his resilience in a very uncertain time. I remember his resolve. He was matter-of-fact about the situation. He never showed emotion, never expressed resentment toward the other manager who was kept during the merger, and never badmouthed his previous employer for what I thought was unfair treatment. I remember his optimism for a new opportunity, when the company he had put so much time and effort into cut ties with him.

The uncertainty of job security was never a reason I decided to open a business and be my own boss. However, my family’s experience frequently reminds me of my responsibilities as an employer. It reminds me of the effect losing a job can have on a person and that person’s family. I have over 100 people who count on me for their livelihood. I remind myself frequently that I work for them. And I do my best to make sure that anyone who is ever let go from my team is let go with dignity and respect.

PATIENCE and GRATITUDE
People are also surprised when I tell them it took four applications before I was accepted to veterinary school. The humility and resilience I had honed as a child needed to be mixed with a healthy dose of patience. When I was finally accepted into veterinary school, I was grateful for the opportunity I had waited my whole life for.

Then the realization of the costs of veterinary school set in. My parents were not rich. Like their parents did for them, they worked hard and sacrificed to make my life better. My mother took extra shifts as a lab technician to help pay for my veterinary school. She worked every weekend for four years to keep my debt down. I am incredibly grateful for her hard work, but I am equally appreciative for teaching me the value of hard work.

My responsibility was to make the most of my opportunity at veterinary school. Work hard. Study. Take advantage of my opportunity. I lived simply and kept my expenses to a minimum.

To this day, I’m grateful for the chance I get every day to make the lives of people and their pets better through my profession. I realize that not everyone has the opportunities I was given and I do my best to not take anything for granted.

I am lucky to have had loving parents that taught me these lessons and more. If you ever read this, Mom and Dad, thank you. I love you.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I was one of those kids who just always wanted to be a veterinarian. In kindergarten, I won first prize for an article I wrote, entitled “Be Nice to Your Pet if You Have a Pet”. I didn’t always know I wanted to be a neurologist, but over the years, I combined the things I liked most about veterinary medicine, like internal medicine, advanced imaging (MRI), and surgery; and neurology just made sense! After graduating from University of Florida’s College of Veterinary Medicine, an internship at Red Bank Veterinary Hospital in New Jersey, and a residency with North Florida Neurology, I became one of fewer than 300 board-certified veterinary neurologists practicing in North America. After finishing my residency, I interviewed with several veterinary hospitals in South Florida, but nothing felt quite right. I wanted to make a bigger difference in the lives of pets and pet parents, so I founded Southeast Veterinary Neurology (SEVN) in 2010. SEVN was built on a promise to be there for pets when they need us, not just when it is convenient; and to treat each pet as if it were our own. We are available 24 hours every day to exclusively treat dogs and cats with neurological conditions such as seizures, strokes, brain tumors, and paralysis. Paralysis? Yes, we make pets walk again! In fact, we’re on a mission to help 20,000 pets walk again by 2025. Too many families are broken when their pet becomes ill. SEVN exists to keep families together by giving second chances to pets with neurological disease and hope to the people who love them.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

I was always taught that “the customer is always right.” I was taught this as a kid, as a teen working in the food service industry, and at most of my jobs in veterinary medicine.

The truth is, the customer isn’t always right. There are times when the customer is completely wrong.

I love the Henry Ford quote: “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have asked for faster horses.” Everyone has an opinion. Some are good, and some are not.

Do we need to listen to our customers? Of course. Do we need to seek their feedback? Absolutely. Do we need to have empathy for their needs, desires, and concerns? 100%. But in the end, I’ve learned that I need to follow my head, my gut, and sometimes, my heart.

Customers are also not right when they’re abusing my team. Fortunately, we have fantastic clients who appreciate the work we do and the difference we make. And we understand that when a family pet is sick, emotions can run high. We occasionally meet someone who isn’t their best self that day. More rarely, we meet someone who is just plain mean. Early on, as a business owner, I’d unintentionally condone poor client behavior by apologizing for something that was out of our control or by telling the team that “it’s an opportunity to win someone over.”

But I’ve learned that the customer is wrong in this situation – and they’re the wrong client for SEVN. While I don’t want to lose a client, I’d rather lose a client than send the wrong message to my team. The people who work with me are important, and they deserve respect. This is a clear time for me to show that their leader has their backs, and that abuse won’t be tolerated.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

I think SEVN’s very first story is about resilience.

During my residency, I had planned to work for an established private practice after I finished my residency. Towards the end of my residency, I interviewed at a couple of different big hospitals in Palm Beach, Broward County, and Miami-Dade, but none felt right. I had never planned on opening my own business, but realized there was a need in South Florida for my specialized skill set. The only neurologists in South Florida at the time were in Cooper City and Stuart. And both were hoping to retire soon.

I had a friend who owned a veterinary dermatology practice in Miami. She worked out of a local veterinary referral center and paid a percentage of her revenue to that hospital. She was in charge of her business, but the referral center provided staff, supplies, equipment, facilities and pretty much everything else. Instead of being an employee and getting paid a small percentage of her production, she would keep the majority and pay a seemingly smaller portion to the hospital. It seemed like a pretty great deal.

She introduced me to the hospital owners, I explained my hopes and plan, and we eventually negotiated the terms of our agreement. Everything seemed perfect. I’d use their facility for exams, procedures, surgery, and hospitalization; and would perform my MRIs at a local human hospital.

The two non-negotiables for me were 1: Let me do MRIs “my way.” Don’t suggest using a CT or a low-field/lower-quality MRI machine. And 2: There would be no non-compete clause, since I wasn’t an employee, but was an independent contractor that was sharing facilities. We agreed, and it seemed like it was a deal.

My wife and I packed our belongings and our dogs and moved to Miami. This was in the summer of 2010. We had lived in a decent-sized house on an acre of land in Jacksonville. There was a preserve behind our house and we were right off the St. John’s River. In Miami, we rented a tiny house in Coral Gables. It was about half the size of the one in Jacksonville, but the rent was roughly twice as much.

We didn’t have much money saved up from my residency. Our living costs had doubled. We didn’t have any income; just a promise that I’d be working out of this veterinary referral center.

I met with the owners of the veterinary referral center to finalize paperwork and sign the contract. We met at Starbucks in South Miami and sat at an outside table on a beautiful sunny morning. It was there that they handed me a contract that had a non-compete clause. Two years, 25 miles. I was surprised. I asked about the discrepancy, and I negotiated for something more reasonable. In the end, they wouldn’t budge.

I drove back to our tiny house that we couldn’t afford if I didn’t start working soon. I sat there with my wife and told her about the meeting. We had a few options: I had a job offer in West Palm Beach that I could commute to; we could accept the terms of the contract and worry about the non-compete later; or we could try to find another place to rent space from.

It was a tough moment in our very short existence. But the answer was clear. Miami needed us. We had a very specific set of talents that without sharing them, countless pets would suffer. And I had seen enough of how larger businesses treated the little guy. I wasn’t going to give up. That same afternoon, we visited several emergency hospitals, introduced ourselves, pitched our plan, and asked if we could rent space from them.

We finally arrived at Miami Pet Emergency on Kendall Drive. It was a small hospital in a strip mall, but it was clean and quiet. I introduced myself to the receptionist. She stepped into the back, and then returned with Dr. George Smith. Dr. Smith was dressed in red, freshly-pressed scrubs with a clean white coat that displayed his name and credentials. He smiled warmly and shook my hand. His dogs Ted, Scuzz, and Wexy introduced themselves as well.

“My name is Michael Wong. I’m a veterinary neurologist that recently moved to Miami. I was hoping to discuss with you the possibility of working together.”

On a handshake, Dr. Smith gave us a chance… without a non-compete clause.

I often think about where we’d be today, or what would have happened to 40,000+ pets if my wife and I had given up. And every day, I’m grateful for Dr. Smith and his generosity.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.SEVNeurology.com
• Instagram: www.instagram.com/southeastveterinaryneurology/
• Facebook: www.facebook.com/southeast.veterinary.neurology
• Linkedin: www.linkedin.com/company/southeast-veterinary-neurology
• Twitter: twitter.com/sevneurology
• Youtube: www.youtube.com/sevneurology
• Yelp: www.yelp.com/biz/southeast-veterinary-neurology-miami-miami
• Other: tiktok: SoutheastVeterinaryNeuro

Image Credits
Emily Lara