We Don’t Have a Communication Problem. We Have a Conversation Problem.
Amy Morgan – Director | Editor – The Rise Dental Co
The biggest misunderstandings in a dental practice rarely come from what people say. They come from the stories we create about things that were never said.
Imagine asking everyone in your practice the same question: “How would you describe the culture here?”
Chances are that you’d hear five very different answers. The practice owner might proudly tell you they’ve worked hard to build a supportive team. A dental assistant may quietly wonder whether anyone notices just how much happens behind the scenes to keep the day running smoothly. Reception might describe the emotional balancing act of calming anxious patients while juggling phones, schedules and unexpected changes. Meanwhile, the hygienist could describe feeling that their concerns are sometimes heard only after an issue has already occurred.
What’s fascinating is that they’re all describing the very same workplace, yet each person’s experience feels completely different. That doesn’t mean anyone is wrong, it simply means we’re all experiencing the same environment through different lenses, shaped by our role, our experiences and the meaning we’ve attached to them.
After working alongside dental teams across Australia, I’ve come to believe something that surprises a lot of people. Most practices don’t actually have a communication problem; they have a conversation problem. Whether we realise it or not, we all arrive at work carrying stories. That’s not because we’re dramatic or negative, but because it’s how our brains make sense of the world. Every interaction, email, passing comment, meeting and even silence is filtered through our own experiences and assumptions.
Sometimes they sound like this:
The dentist doesn’t trust us.
Reception has no idea what it’s like in surgery.
People in surgery don’t understand what happens at reception.
Management only notices mistakes.
No matter what I do, it’ll never be enough.
At first, these are simply interpretations. They’re our best attempt at making sense of a moment. But over time, something subtle happens, those interpretations begin to feel like facts.
Once we’ve written a story about someone in our mind, our brains naturally start looking for evidence to support it. We notice the interactions that confirm what we already believe while overlooking anything that challenges it. Psychologists call this confirmation bias. The difficulty is that while our stories often feel true, they’re rarely the whole truth.
Dental practices are incredibly good at exchanging information.
A patient has arrived.
Lab work is back.
Room three is ready.
The crown needs adjusting.
The stock has been delivered.
The schedule has changed.
Information moves constantly because it has to, it’s what keeps the day functioning. But information isn’t the same as conversation.
Every conversation we avoid leaves space for our imagination to step in. Because our brains are wired to make sense of uncertainty, our brains are uncomfortable with missing information. When there are gaps in the story, we instinctively fill them.
I often remind teams that people don’t respond to what actually happened, they respond to the meaning they’ve attached to what happened. That distinction changes one’s perspective immediately. Two people can experience exactly the same interaction and leave with completely different conclusions. Neither is trying to create conflict. They’re simply interpreting events through different experiences, pressures and expectations.
A few months ago, I was working with a dental practice that described themselves as ‘struggling with communication.’ As we explored what was happening, something interesting emerged. The principal believed the team had become disengaged. They weren’t contributing ideas in meetings, they weren’t asking questions, and there seemed to be little ownership around improving the practice. The team’s perspective was completely different. They believed decisions had already been made before meetings began, so they stopped offering ideas because they assumed their input wouldn’t change anything. Neither side was trying to create distance. Neither side intended to make the other feel unheard. Both sides were responding to a story they had created.
The principal’s story was: My team isn’t invested.
The team’s story was: Our opinions don’t matter.
The breakthrough didn’t come from a new communication strategy or another team meeting. It came from one honest conversation where both sides realised they had been reacting to assumptions rather than reality. The story they’d each carried for weeks disappeared in a two-minute conversation. Nothing about the situation had changed, only each side’s understanding of it. Sometimes the conversation we’re avoiding isn’t difficult because of what will be said. It’s difficult because of what we’ve already decided is true.
So, perhaps instead of asking, how do we communicate better? We should be asking, what conversations are we avoiding? That single question shifts the focus from communication as a skill to conversation as a choice. Because the answer is rarely another meeting, another policy or another personality profile. More often it’s about the courage to ask instead of assuming, and to acknowledge when we’ve misunderstood a situation.
The next time you find yourself feeling frustrated, disappointed or hurt by something that has happened at work, resist the temptation to immediately believe the first story your mind creates. Instead, pause and ask yourself three simple questions:
What do I know for certain?
Separate the facts from your interpretation.
What have I assumed?
Notice where you’ve filled in the gaps without checking whether your conclusions are true.
Who do I need to ask?
If the story involves another person, the only way to know the truth is to have the conversation.
These questions take less than a minute; they won’t eliminate misunderstandings altogether, but they can change the meaning we’ve attached to situations and stop a false story from becoming a damaged relationship.
Every person in your practice is carrying a story. Some of those stories build trust, connection and belonging. Others quietly create distance, misunderstanding and resentment. Sometimes the smallest shift in perspective opens the door to the biggest change in a workplace. The difference is found in the willingness to have one honest conversation before a false story has time to become someone’s truth.