Last Friday, I was fortunate enough to be invited by my friend, Tod, to go flying. An aspiring pilot, I leapt at the opportunity, taking the morning off to view Central Oregon from above.
Now, I’ve been up in private aircraft a few times, but I have never experienced flying like this. It was the perfect combination: An enviable airplane, spectacular weather, and great company — all of which combined to make this experience one that I won’t soon forget. I learned a bit about flying, and if you read on, a bit about private practice as well.
The airplane was a Vans RV series plane, completely teched out with electronic navigation, GPS, plush interior, and Sirius satellite radio — definitely as nice as my novice eyes have seen. I was truly impressed.
The weather was as clear as it gets in Central Oregon — not a breeze, bump, or cloud in the sky. It was “smooth as silk” as they say, and I could see to the top of the Cascades, all the way to Silver Lake, and back to Smith Rocks, all without a squint. And the company, as I said, was great.
This was my first time flying with Tod, and he was accompanying me on this flight as both a friend and mentor. He’s been a pilot since 1979, and as much as he loves flying, I could tell that he derived equal, if not greater pleasure from turning others onto the sport.
It should have been no surprise then, when no more than 120 seconds after takeoff, just as I was beginning to control the awe with which I was viewing the landscape, that he said - “OK, take it, it’s yours.”
“Whoa.”
This was a great opportunity, and mighty generous of Tod, but independent of all that, I really didn’t have much of a choice — I could look like a wimp who’s afraid of the stick, or take it confidently while submitting a silent prayer for both of our safety. I did the latter, never letting on that I was the least bit nervous — I think.
So, I took the stick, and with palm sweaty, figured, “maybe if I don’t move, this thing will fly itself.” Not a bad strategy until it was time for my first lesson.
The first lesson went something like this, “Spin this thing around three hundred sixty degrees — go ahead and really bank it.”
“O…K…,” I said. Not sure that I “really banked” it, but I did manage to do the 360…probably in no less than a 5 mile radius.
After that lesson though, it sort of clicked, and I became fairly comfortable up there. I mean, after all, there was a long way down for him to take over and correct, and what the heck, why not just loosen up and enjoy the flight.
So, this is what we did for the next hour or so, when my lesson switched from “banking it” to “not chasing the needle.”
Chasing the needle happens when you’re striving for a certain altitude — in our case, 7,500 feet — and you make your adjustments just agressively enough that you shoot past your target and to the other side. For us, it looked something like this:
“OK, doing good, just about 7,500 ft…oh, whoops, 7,600 ft — better correct — there we go, got it, ah, whoops 7,400 ft — darn it, let’s go back the other way, perfect — ah man, 7,700 ft,” and so on.
It’s really a struggle when you know you need to head a certain direction in order to correct, and by the time you’ve made what you think is the right adjustment, you’ve hung on just long enough to require a correction in the opposite direction.
The advice from Tod: “Don’t chase the needle. Make small adjustments, lay off a bit, re-assess where you’re at, and adjust again. Don’t continue making your adjustments until you actually see the needle hit the mark — if you do you’ll end up chasing the needle to the other side.”
Sound familiar?
It should. As you’re likely aware, there’s a lot more chasing of the needle than happens in airplanes. While the gravity of the situation may appear greater at 7,500 feet, the principle applies to every mark we try to make, whether up in the air or in our own businesses.
In private practice, the mark that we’re shooting for might be patient volume, profitability, customer satisfaction, or anything in between. The needle usually comes in the form of financial or productivity reports, outcomes and satisfaction surveys, or staff retention — basically anything that is measured within the practice. The “stick” might be the marketing campaign, customer service training, clinical education, or anything else that is done to try to “meet the mark.”
At 7,500 feet, the altitude adjustment was pretty straightforward — push forward to go down, pull back to go up. In a private practice, the adjustments are many, and the best method of tracking toward objectives are not always easy to do. Increasing volume may require a combination of marketing plus customer service training; the financial profitability gauge may be more responsive to adjustments by way of expense reduction rather than revenue generation; and patient satisfaction may be tied more to clinical outcomes than to flexible appointment times. No practice is the same, and it’s the job of the owner or administrator to understand which adjustments should be made, and how aggressively to make them.
The key is, regardless of which adjustments you are making, don’t throw everything at the gauge and expect not to chase the needle. In private practice, it is critical to do just Tod said: “Make small adjustments, lay off a bit, re-assess where you’re at, and adjust again.”
Last Friday, I was fortunate enough to be invited by my friend, Tod, to go flying. An aspiring pilot, I leapt at the opportunity, taking the morning off to view Central Oregon from above.
Now, I’ve been up in private aircraft a few times, but I have never experienced flying like this. It was the perfect combination: An enviable airplane, spectacular weather, and great company — all of which combined to make this experience one that I won’t soon forget. I learned a bit about flying, and if you read on, a bit about private practice as well.
The airplane was a Vans RV series plane, completely teched out with electronic navigation, GPS, plush interior, and Sirius satellite radio — definitely as nice as my novice eyes have seen. I was truly impressed.
The weather was as clear as it gets in Central Oregon — not a breeze, bump, or cloud in the sky. It was “smooth as silk” as they say, and I could see to the top of the Cascades, all the way to Silver Lake, and back to Smith Rocks, all without a squint. And the company, as I said, was great.
This was my first time flying with Tod, and he was accompanying me on this flight as both a friend and mentor. He’s been a pilot since 1979, and as much as he loves flying, I could tell that he derived equal, if not greater pleasure from turning others onto the sport.
It should have been no surprise then, when no more than 120 seconds after takeoff, just as I was beginning to control the awe with which I was viewing the landscape, that he said - “OK, take it, it’s yours.”
“Whoa.”
This was a great opportunity, and mighty generous of Tod, but independent of all that, I really didn’t have much of a choice — I could look like a wimp who’s afraid of the stick, or take it confidently while submitting a silent prayer for both of our safety. I did the latter, never letting on that I was the least bit nervous — I think.
So, I took the stick, and with palm sweaty, figured, “maybe if I don’t move, this thing will fly itself.” Not a bad strategy until it was time for my first lesson.
The first lesson went something like this, “Spin this thing around three hundred sixty degrees — go ahead and really bank it.”
“O…K…,” I said. Not sure that I “really banked” it, but I did manage to do the 360…probably in no less than a 5 mile radius.
After that lesson though, it sort of clicked, and I became fairly comfortable up there. I mean, after all, there was a long way down for him to take over and correct, and what the heck, why not just loosen up and enjoy the flight.
So, this is what we did for the next hour or so, when my lesson switched from “banking it” to “not chasing the needle.”
Chasing the needle happens when you’re striving for a certain altitude — in our case, 7,500 feet — and you make your adjustments just agressively enough that you shoot past your target and to the other side. For us, it looked something like this:
It’s really a struggle when you know you need to head a certain direction in order to correct, and by the time you’ve made what you think is the right adjustment, you’ve hung on just long enough to require a correction in the opposite direction.
The advice from Tod: “Don’t chase the needle. Make small adjustments, lay off a bit, re-assess where you’re at, and adjust again. Don’t continue making your adjustments until you actually see the needle hit the mark — if you do you’ll end up chasing the needle to the other side.”
Sound familiar?
It should. As you’re likely aware, there’s a lot more chasing of the needle than happens in airplanes. While the gravity of the situation may appear greater at 7,500 feet, the principle applies to every mark we try to make, whether up in the air or in our own businesses.
In private practice, the mark that we’re shooting for might be patient volume, profitability, customer satisfaction, or anything in between. The needle usually comes in the form of financial or productivity reports, outcomes and satisfaction surveys, or staff retention — basically anything that is measured within the practice. The “stick” might be the marketing campaign, customer service training, clinical education, or anything else that is done to try to “meet the mark.”
At 7,500 feet, the altitude adjustment was pretty straightforward — push forward to go down, pull back to go up. In a private practice, the adjustments are many, and the best method of tracking toward objectives are not always easy to do. Increasing volume may require a combination of marketing plus customer service training; the financial profitability gauge may be more responsive to adjustments by way of expense reduction rather than revenue generation; and patient satisfaction may be tied more to clinical outcomes than to flexible appointment times. No practice is the same, and it’s the job of the owner or administrator to understand which adjustments should be made, and how aggressively to make them.
The key is, regardless of which adjustments you are making, don’t throw everything at the gauge and expect not to chase the needle. In private practice, it is critical to do just Tod said: “Make small adjustments, lay off a bit, re-assess where you’re at, and adjust again.”