Physiatry Practice Management Resources

Hoping to boost revenues, two doctors fell for a slick sales pitch. Live and learn.

It seemed a sure thing. Our small gynecology practice was destined to become a gold mine if we signed up with a West Coast-based practice marketing agency.

Our first exposure to the high-pressure tactics of the company was when we received an enticing mailing. It featured a testimonial from one of their satisfied customers and detailed how we could gain total control of our local market, get a bigger return on our advertising investment, and make more money overall.

Those possibilities were attractive, since our small practice competes with a larger group in the same little town, as well as with a regional medical center nearby. The competition, coupled with declining revenues in general, prompted our search for marketing magic.
Pressure to sign on the dotted line

So we attended the company's grueling weekend marketing seminar. The course was designed to cram a lot of information into just two days. There were few breaks during the day, and evenings were devoted to reading the printed material and trying frantically to comprehend the concept of "selling" our practice to new patients. My partner and I were exhausted by the seminar's end.

But we faced a huge decision. Should we fork over $50,000 to sign on with this group, or should we simply take all their marketing suggestions and implement them on our own? The pressure to sign right away was intense—like a car salesman promising a discount only if the decision is immediate. We struggled with the price tag, which had to be paid up front. But there was a guaranteed money-back offer. If we weren't satisfied, we could get at least a partial refund. In the end, we signed up to join the ranks of the "elite practices" that had come before us.
The marketers give us a makeover

We returned from the seminar enthusiastic about our new tools for promoting the business, and we did our best to sell the concepts to the office staff. It was essential to gain their support, since many of the changes in billing and collections, handling patient problems, and generally "putting on a happy face" would depend on their cooperation.

We asked the receptionists to keep track of new patient referrals so that we could send thank-you notes to those doing the referring. We instructed all employees on phone techniques that would make our patients feel important and cared for. And we gave our business office staff marching orders to set up payment plans and other sorts of schedules.

Unfortunately the staff was dubious that the marketing plan would translate into more income. From their perspective, it just created more work for them.

Still, we physicians forged ahead, updating our CVs and professional photos for the new advertising campaign. While we did this, the marketing company created a new logo and business name for us.

The marketers thought our existing name, "Washington Women's Clinic," was too clinical. They planned to soften it up a bit, making it more attractive and "woman-friendly." We didn't like the first name they came up with, "Washington Womancare," because it didn't flow off the tongue, so we compromised on "Washington Women'sCare."

Although we liked the new pastel logo and the tag line (Healthcare for women by women), problems soon became apparent. The pastel color scheme for our letterhead was very expensive to print. Worse, to anyone casually glancing at the new name—WOMENSCARE (it appeared in all caps and without the apostrophe in the phone book and on certain official documents)—it looked like "WOMEN SCARE." One of our local surgeons actually called to let us know—tongue in cheek—that he was not too keen on sending patients if we were going to scare them.

Despite these glitches, our Yellow Pages ad was first-rate, and we were able to track the increase in new patients it generated. The marketing company had encouraged us to purchase a full-page ad in order to get prime real estate, and that advice seemed to be working.
The glitzy extras didn't always pay off

Our huge capital outlay on fancy practice brochures, however, was a bust. I took bunches of these trifold, glossy handouts to health fairs and speaking engagements. A few people would take them, but there was no way to gauge whether or not they were worth the money spent. We were stuck with hundreds of them.

Once our professional photos were completed, we mailed them off for incorporation into one-page, personal bios that would grace our waiting room. These were intended to acquaint our patients with our individual style and philosophy of practice, as well as our medical credentials. Presumably, patients would read these while waiting and perhaps take one home to give a friend. The actual results, however, were just as difficult to track as those of the practice brochures. We suspect that the expense of the printing may have outweighed any marketing benefit. Also, our photos remain in the hands of the marketing company, which seems reluctant to return them to us, despite innumerable attempts. This, of course, is a minor annoyance compared to our overall contention that we have not received what we've paid for.

Another promotional tool the firm promised was a user-friendly Web site, which we thought would appeal to techno-savvy patients. The marketers were supposed to build the site and secure our domain name. The site would feature mini-bios of each physician, an overview of the practice philosophy, links to other health sites, and general information about women's health. Unfortunately, this site never made it to the Web. We tried for months to get the company to correct certain errors in the test version, but to no avail. Only later were we finally able to put together a suitable Web site.

A final insult from these marketeers was a set of posters that were to hang on our office walls. These were supposed to address various gynecological ailments and suggest that the patient explore new therapies with her provider. The images were quite appealing, but the workmanship was incredibly poor. We couldn't even get them to hang on the walls; they fell off on a daily basis—and for this, we paid a premium price.

Our foray into the world of professional practice marketing was humbling but, ultimately, enlightening. We will no longer be so easily parted from our hard-earned income, and we'll likely think twice before spending so much up front. The money-back guarantee did us no good. Although some of the work was substandard and unprofessional, we felt we couldn't demand our money back, since other aspects of the work were acceptable. Plus, we were always more focused on getting the job finished than on getting our money back.

Perhaps we could have pressed harder at an earlier stage, but that's water under the bridge now. At this point, we're just happy to have survived and to have remained economically viable in the unpredictable world of medical practice.