Lessons Learned - The Painful Early Days of Being an RVT

I want to get down to some of the nitty-gritty aspects of our profession that so many people don’t talk about, are scared to talk about, or have a stigma because I have seen so many competent RVTs leave the industry over them.

I have spent the last few years on a mission to gather as much information from fellow RVTs as possible. Information about what would have made their life in this career easier, what resources they felt were missing, what benefits or policies would have supported them, and if they had left the industry altogether, why, and what could have potentially mitigated that.

That mission, in part, resulted in CanadianRVT.

I will get into some of the feedback received and what I have started to do about it, but first off, let me give you a bit of background as to who I am and how I started my career.

I grew up on a dairy farm in Caledonia, Ontario, and like many other RVTs, animals were always a big part of my life. Between the cats, dogs, and parrots we had as pets, there were also the chickens and cattle. Any injured or abandoned wildlife that came under our wing was promptly cared for, released, brought to a wildlife rehabilitation facility, or received the appropriate funeral service a child thought they deserved. My poor parents!

My formal introduction to working in veterinary medicine started when I was in grade 9. I pestered my local small animal and exotic practice to take me for “take your kid to work day”. I was not their kid, and they by no means owed me anything, but they went out on a limb for an enthusiastic and eager teenager.

I thought I was clever because I brought my resume with me. At the end of the day, I handed it to one of the clinic's partners, asked her for an assistant job, and told her to use that day as my working interview. She hired me on the spot.

I worked at that practice for several years and got a rude awakening into the toxic unprofessionalism of some individuals in the workplace. As a 16-year-old teenage girl, it was a hard lesson, and many tears were shed. People whom I thought were my friends turned out to be some of the most manipulative people I have ever met, even to this day.

When I graduated high school and went to the University of Guelph, I volunteered at a wildlife rehabilitation and education facility. I learned SO much about Canada's domestic wildlife species and how to care for them. I learned about teaching our youth how to respect and care for our ecosystems and planet and how to build a more sustainable world for tomorrow.

I also learned that navigating legislative changes around what volunteers and staff can and cannot do is challenging. And more importantly, how to handle myself in a large corporate organization that, while wanting what’s best for the animals, also has a strict set of regulations that govern what they say or do.

After two and a half years at university and a TON of money down the drain, I hit my first (of now several) rock bottom and left. I pursued my original career path and goal of attending Seneca College for the Veterinary Technician program, which was much more aligned with what I wanted to do.

While I completed my schooling, I worked in a small animal practice and applied for and completed a Large Animal Biosecurity Externship through the OAVT. It was the first year they ran the program, and I had to complete a lengthy application, write an essay, and have character references to be considered. I was selected for one of the 20 available spots.

Upon my graduation in 2011, I moved to Winnipeg, MB. I began working in a mixed animal practice with a large animal surgical suite in-house. I did a fair mix of small companion animal medicine, food production, and equine medicine in-house and on the farm. I had moved out West because my ex-husband (who was obviously, not an ex at the time) was military, and we were posted there. I did not have any family or friends in Winnipeg, so I dove headfirst into work and my new role.

The practice I worked at had a close-knit group of support staff and RVTs, and it became a family of sorts. I went through a few health scares while working there, and I can honestly say that the one owner almost became a father figure to me.

While overall, the clinic seemed great, it was in the process of being sold, and there was a significant amount of lying, shielding, and misinformation from the management and owners. They outright lied to us about the sale, and we found out from neighbouring practices.

It was an exceptionally confusing, frustrating, and discouraging time, especially as we were such a close group. Trust was broken.

With the incredibly long hours, being significantly understaffed, the mounting tension in the practice, and stress from my home life (I spent my first winter in Winnipeg alone because my ex was away on course), I had my first introduction to burnout and a mental breakdown.

Around 10 pm (several hours past closing), I was trying to get all the dogs (boarders and medical patients) fed, walked, and medicated, the clinic cleaned and ready for the next day, surgeries for the morning organized, and the hospitalized horses fed and watered. Except for my boss, who was writing records and having a meeting with the office manager, I was alone. I was trying to get everything finished so I could get home to my two dogs, who had been locked up for almost 13 hours. We had no other RVTs, support staff, or volunteers to help, which was a regular occurrence.

The office manager came out of her meeting, questioned and then reprimanded me for still working, and finished by saying they would not pay me overtime. I imploded. All the built-up stress, exhaustion, anxiety, anger, and frustration exploded out of me.

While I remember screaming at her, I have no idea what I said. I completely broke down and cried. I walked into the barn at the back of the building and sat on the concrete floor, rocking back and forth, and sobbing. I was paralyzed.

When the office manager finally convinced me to come back inside to speak with her and my boss, I, in a very hysterical tone, while crying, yelled that I could not keep doing this, that I was quitting, and that I hated it there.

I screamed that there was no help, that I had a life outside of work that I couldn’t keep up with, and that I was done. I said that I shouldn’t be there SO late at night trying to get everything taken care of and that when they are so short-staffed, I also get penalized for the additional hours I worked!

When my verbal diarrhea finally stopped, I was exhausted mentally and physically and just sat there silently crying while they stared at me. I was completely numb.

My boss, very simply and calmly, replied, “Go home and get some sleep. We will talk tomorrow. I am not letting you quit like this”.

While I did return to work the next day and conversations were had, there were some temporary measures put in place to support staff; however, I felt very disconnected from the practice.

I started looking for other opportunities to grow my skill set and advance my career. Being a newer grad, my goal was to become a lead/head technician or office manager.

It was the obvious next step because I did not understand that various pathways are available to RVTs.

Shortly after looking for new jobs, I was presented with a seemingly amazing offer. Do you know that saying about how if it seems too good to be true, it probably is? Well, it's true.

I was offered a position at a clinic that was part of a group of privately owned practices in Winnipeg. The group was opening a new small animal clinic and wanted me to move there as their head technician.

While the final touches were being put on the new build, I was to temporarily work at one of their existing practices for a couple of months. This would give me time to learn their protocols, get to know the ownership, and develop a working relationship with one of the DVMs who would also be going to the new practice. Ultimately, I would be responsible for hiring, training, and managing the new staff and RVTs.

It was exactly what I was looking for! Room to grow, more responsibility, and an opportunity to train and assist other RVTs.

Except, that’s not what happened.

When they opened the new practice, they secretly hired one of the veterinarian's daughters to be the head RVT. She was neither registered nor had she graduated from her veterinary technician program. I was to stay at the “temporary” practice.

During my initial interview, the practice owner said they needed more direction, guidance, and leadership with their RVT staff. One of their existing RVTs, filling a maternity leave for their head tech, was told the same thing. As one can imagine, this led to several major conflicts.

The practice culture and atmosphere turned out to be one of the most toxic work environments I had ever been in, and to be honest, I felt it on day one. I remember standing in the bathroom on my first day, staring into the mirror, asking myself what I had done. Perhaps I could call my old clinic and ask if they would hire me back. I didn’t. I was so excited about the promised opportunity that I pushed that gut feeling aside and ignored my internal dialogue.

While I do not regret working at that practice, as I learned many valuable lessons about management styles and techniques, working with different personality types, and how to work with veterinarians that did not practice the best medicine (I had to intervene on multiple occasions to prevent one particular DVM from making a fatal error), I do regret the outcome at the end of my time there.

I got pregnant with my first daughter while working at that practice and was scared to disclose it because I felt they would be angry with me due to the “inconvenience”. They were. The acting head tech ignored me entirely, and I was expected to perform unsafe tasks and procedures. I was required to mask cats (that is how they induced all cats for surgery) and take x-rays.

When I was 16 weeks pregnant, I encountered the most aggressive dog I have ever worked with. He was a 50kg, 4-year-old, intact male, GSD, that the owner was also fearful of. I was expected to restrain him while he was lunging at my face (the owner narrowly managed to get a muzzle on him in the parking lot) and hold him down while he alligator rolled and fought for the sake of a heartworm test and vaccines. By the end, I was out of breath, sweating, and bleeding from where he had carved my arm up with his nails.

All while my boss watched with relative disinterest from the sidelines.

Suffice it to say, Trazodone, Gabapentin, Chill Protocols, and other adjunct behavioural therapies have come a long way in the last decade in helping work with these anxious, fearful, and aggressive animals.

The tipping point at this practice came when I was around 18 weeks pregnant and got a kidney infection. I had told the office manager in the morning that I was not feeling well, and while I was not sure what was wrong, I was exceptionally nauseous and dizzy. I was holding for a blood draw, got hot and flushed, and my vision went black and spotty. I was so lightheaded and weak that I had to hold the wall as I slid to the floor, and then I crawled to the staff room. The office manager made me wait until the “head tech” came in to “decide” if I could leave for the day.

I ended up driving myself to the hospital, where I was admitted on IV antibiotics, had an obstetric ultrasound to ensure the baby was okay and was advised to take a week off work. When I returned the following week, I was either ignored or blatantly told how my being away was inconvenient to them.

I met with my boss that morning and advised them that I was going on sick leave, effective immediately. I told them that I could not take any more unnecessary risks that could affect my or my baby's health. The part I did not share was that the working environment was taking a massive toll on my mental health.

While my boss said they understood, they pulled the Office Manger into the meeting and made me repeat what we discussed. The Office Manager was red-faced and irate, and when we left the meeting, she slandered me with the acting “head tech” while I was in the room holding a dog for the other RVT on staff.

I rolled my sick leave into my maternity leave. I never went back, and I never talked to them again.

Unfortunately, due to that experience, I left the profession altogether for a few years. I was completely and utterly defeated. The optimistic, bright, bubbly, baby RVT that I had been just a few years prior had vanished.

The burnout, compassion fatigue, depression, and anxiety were crippling. I went into this profession with a passion for helping animals, and in the process, I lost myself.

During my “break years”, I had two daughters, had a falling out with my immediate family, my marriage dissolved in a disastrous and damaging way, and I moved back to Ontario. It was a rough few years.

When I moved back home, I continued to make amends with my family, got my feet under me, and did a lot of soul-searching and healing. I prioritized my fragile mental health. As a newly single mother of a one and two-year-old, I had to lay the groundwork for our new life.

In 2017 I was living in Barrie, my girls and I had our own house, I had a good (non-veterinary related) job, and while things were going well for all intents and purposes, something continued to feel “off”. I was struggling with my mental health and decided, along with my doctors' support, to go on stress leave from my job.

I was profoundly depressed and anxious and had significant panic attacks almost daily. I did not understand why things seemed so out of alignment when I should feel happy.

One morning while the girls were at daycare, I remember sitting in my basement, silently crying, feeling hopeless and numb, trying to journal and perform some cathartic exercise to improve my mental well-being. I remember giving up and making a plea to the universe, the silence around me, the wall, the chair…anything, to help. I begged for guidance and direction.

All at once, this overwhelming feeling came crashing down on me. It was a thought so crystal clear in my mind that I was shocked it had not occurred to me sooner. It was the most obvious and simple answer.

My job was wrong.

I was continually working and living in conflict with my true calling and passion. I was forcing myself into a box in which I did not, and could not, fit. I was pretending to be someone that I was not.

I missed veterinary medicine more than I could describe to you in words. It is something I am just meant to do. I started looking for all opportunities to move back into veterinary medicine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of optimism, hope, and direction.

Somewhere early in that journey, I wrote a thought in my journal about how wonderful it would be to work at the large animal practice I completed my Externship with before I moved out West. This thought morphed from a passing “that would be nice” note in my journal to a fully formed intention and belief that I needed to be there. There was no alternate scenario in my mind. It was like it was already my reality.

By some divine intervention, that practice JUST (the same day I wrote the thought in my journal) posted that they were hiring an RVT. I took my resume to them personally and went through a traditional and working interview. They had advised that there were five other applicants, one of whom was better qualified than I was, and that they would let me know the outcome the following Thursday (This was Friday afternoon).

The next piece of the story is almost surreal, even six years later.

That weekend I was visiting my sister and her friend downtown Toronto, and we were on a streetcar going to a rugby game. The game was a spur-of-the-moment, never been before, but a friend got last-minute tickets sort of thing. We were going to take an Uber but decided to save money at the last minute. We were not even sure we were on the right streetcar.

I was staring out the window, watching the building go by, and turned to look at my sister sitting opposite me. A man standing about 5 feet behind her, holding the top railing, looking out the window on the other side, caught my eye.

It took me a moment to recognize this man as one of my professors in the veterinary technician program I attended. The last time I saw or spoke to this individual was when I graduated. I stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Of all the seats we could have selected, of all the streetcars, of all the rugby games to attend, and the fact that we were supposed to have other plans that night, he was standing in front of me.

I eventually realized I probably looked like a creep because I had stared at him for too long and looked away. He likely had no idea who I was, and I am not even sure if he looked at me.

It wasn’t about the person themself standing there, but more, what they represented. They had been an integral component in my journey to become an RVT.

It was like the universe laughed to a friend and said, “hold my beer and watch this!”.

In that split second, I knew that I had gotten the job. Again, there was no room for doubt or question. I was 100% certain.

An overwhelming sense of gratitude and peace filled me, and I had to stare out the window to stop from crying. (That would have made things extra weird!)

I got a call from the practice owner on Monday morning to discuss my start date.

I find that when something is part of your soul, and you have a true passion for it, the universe intervenes and keeps putting that “thing” front and center. Almost like a knock at your door to say, “hello…you seem to be forgetting something”. Veterinary medicine is that passion for me.

When you open your mind to possibility and opportunity and allow yourself the space and compassion to expand your mindset, to reach and grow, the universe delivers. Living in alignment with your true self is integral to your well-being.

(I appreciate how “woo woo” that sounds)

The next chapter of my story (we will save that story for another day) has been filled with incredible opportunities and people. In the last five years, I have grown immeasurably as a leader, RVT, mother, daughter, and overall human.

I approach my career with a vastly different mindset than when I first started in practice. It is a privilege to do what I love every day.

That does not mean that I do not still struggle with my mental health.

Over the last few decades, veterinary medicine has changed exponentially; however, roadblocks we encounter have continued to be a huge concern. Things such as fair pay, benefits, maternity leaves, burnout and compassion fatigue, work-life balance, CE resources and opportunities, and ways to further your credentials and pursue new opportunities for growth are constant sticking points.

CanadianRVT was my passion project to help RVTs address some of these concerns. By providing support and tangible resources to others, I hope to make a difference in someone else's professional and personal journey. Perhaps then, they could avoid the same mental health crises and damaging work environments that I experienced. Even if just one person benefitted, sharing my story would be worth it.

Veterinary medicine is an incredible profession, and we do amazing, lifesaving and inspiring things every day, regardless of which area of the industry we work in. Together we can make it more supportive and sustainable.

It is crucial to note that if you are struggling right now, whether you are a student, a brand new RVT, or have been an RVT for decades, there is help available. You are not alone. Please reach out to a friend, a family member, your doctor, or other support. There is a list of mental health resources on the CanadianRVT website.

You cannot take care of your patients if you do not first take care of yourself.

Now that you know the beginning of my story, I would like to ask you a few questions:

1. How long have you been an RVT?

a. 0-2 years

b. 3-5 years

c. 6-10 years

d. 11-20 years

e. 21+ years

2. Have you ever left or thought about leaving the profession?

a. If yes, what made you or stopped you?

3. In your mind, what is the biggest challenge in our industry today?

4. Do you feel as though you are paid fairly?

a. Can you support yourself and/or your family?

5. In what ways would you like to further your career/skill set?

6. In your current workplace, do you feel supported and respected?

a. By management/ownership?

b. By veterinarians?

c. By fellow RVTs?

d. By clients?

7. If you could do ONE thing today to make a difference in your career, what would it be?

8. Having been an RVT for _____ years, would you still pick the same career if you knew then what you know now?

I value and welcome your feedback. Please feel free to comment on this post, start a discussion in the forum, or email me directly.

Until next time, take care of yourself and be well.