Thoughts On Now… Quality (Finally) Overcomes Quantity?

Interesting things are happening.

Both personal and professional relationships are changing and developing in some incredible ways.

Some of these things are unlikely. Some are enabled by circumstance. But all feel right. Really, really right. I also, for various reasons, feel a more nuanced depth or awareness of things that matter—things I’ve always known and felt, but I’m in a much better position to act upon.

Partly, this is because as I get older I’m far more comfortable in my skin and don't feel any need to be anything other than me. Partly because I’m not the idiot I was yesterday. And tomorrow (if I keep working on it), perhaps I won’t be the idiot I was today. Over time, that strategy pays off. Make more intentional steps forward than unintentional ones backward…kind-of-a-thing.

It’s also because there are times in your career when it pays to speak, and times when it doesn’t. I’m less of a journeyman, dependent on the favor of others to put food on the table these days, which does have a beneficial effect on filtering. However, this world, while incomprehensibly huge, can also be cringingly small when you least expect it. So I plan to write and act with greater clarity, freedom, and openness, I hope not to come across as entirely unhinged.

You can expect writing in a style that feels more natural as part of a dive into things that more generally interest me, alongside the more staple exploration of leadership and it’s many facets. In particular, the pressures weighing on the shoulders of those who dare to name themselves a leader. I also mean to rage against the trend towards A.I. generated crap that is fouling the blogosphere as I type. 

I’ll offer thoughts and insights as I see things. But prepare for these to wander across the rich vista of life. This is largely down to my chronically chaotic yet utterly curious mind. So once in a while, added into the mix of business thoughts, I’ll stray off the path into personal exploration. If that’s not for you, then dawdle on by. But for others, I hope my words offer amusement, insight, hope, or encouragement. As ever, you do you, boo!

In that vein… (not the one that bleeds when cut)

You should know that I’m writing this on a train. Brighton is receding behind me, Manchester is some way distant down the tracks. Trains are magical places—both elegant and exciting. A travel space unlike others; I’ve done some of my best producing on rails.

I’m heading to Manchester to speak at the UK’s premier scientific vet conference, BSAVA. As a youthful “professional,” it was my favorite place to spend time. I went for nearly ten years straight before my travels took me to Australia. I would have killed to speak at it when I was a baby vet—and would also have been terrified.

This year, I’m heading up again—for one night, one session, and one meeting, and then getting home ASAP. It’s a big change, and I’ve been pondering how I feel about trips to conferences and being a somewhat public person over the past decade. There was a time when I lived for these events all over the world.

That feeling is a lot different today—a fact probably better illustrated by my recent trip to VMX, the world’s largest vet gathering, in Orlando. But to understand how this all fits together, first, I need to set the scene.

Then vs. Now

Conferences have always been a source of both excitement and anxiety. In my early years, attending BSAVA in the UK was exhilarating. It felt like some kind of spiritual home where a tribe—my tribe—would gather and offer praise in the highest temple of veterinary medicine: the Novotel Bar! The energy and hustle were as intoxicating as the lubricating drinks that started early and flowed late into the night.

I was a rare sighting in the structured educational program in those days. But in the sprawling social landscape of the exhibition floor and hotel bars, I was as common (and probably as useful) as a howler monkey swinging from the trees. I couldn’t get enough of the lusty tales of derring-do or disaster that roared forth from those I considered the silverbacks of the jungle. Surgery, medicine… it all seemed a bit less scary when you knew that the best of the best had plenty of frankly shocking days along the way, and yet still, they lived to laugh and beat their beasty chests.

This somewhat nocturnal jungle experience carried on as my speaking career took off and I attended events in far-flung places. A new excitement. Much more responsibility. But a new feeling—not like being in a jungle but instead being a tourist, present in a new land but not really belonging. Until, that was, I met some of the people who, over time, accepted and embraced me. These people have been some of the greatest influences on my life and a few became my BFFs.

Through them, I realized that a different game was afoot—one I didn’t understand. They had agendas, for example, that seemed far more packed out than my own. And the creeping anxiety that I was somehow doing it wrong grew and grew. I tried to quell the feeling by stuffing my schedule full of meetings too. Meetings to sell. Meetings to be sold to. Interviews. Coffee. Beers.

I got busy. But not very happy.

Most of these meetings served little purpose beyond being busy. My agenda became “to have a full agenda so I didn’t feel anxious about not belonging,” rather than to work on some useful objective.

Then COVID showed up, and well… you know. All that stopped.

Then came the recovery, and it started up again. Veterinary medicine has changed a bit since then, but not as much as we’d like to think. I, on the other hand, had changed dramatically.

The Shift

Public speaking - aka clowning about in front of a room full of people while slipping in a message that matters is both a constant and a huge source of joy. Gum-flapping, Scottish-accented edu-tainment is my gift. The raw energy, spontaneity, and promise that each crowd offers is exhilarating.

It’s how I feel about the other bits that has changed.

Communicating messages that matter to support my fellow veterinary professionals is deeply important to me. Anything that distracts from the work I’m enjoying—or from the work I’m uniquely positioned to deliver—is now extremely annoying.

Traveling? Blah-blah-blah meetings? Coffee without a clear agenda with a stranger? Making reels about an event? All in the bin of “waste of life.”

If I must, I’ll do them. But you’ll fight me every inch of the way.

That does make me sound like a terrible curmudgeon. But I promise I’m not. I’m just a big bit tired of the performative and often superficial nature of things. If I have time and I like what you’re up to, I’ll help. Schmaybe. Because I like helping people more than I like flapping my gums. But there has to be a good reason, rather than just because we’re here. And there has to be time.

Quality, not quantity.

During my jungle and tourist phases, I was like a Labrador chasing every tennis ball and squirrel in the park. All quantity. Experience everything. Sleep when you’re dead.

As I approach the end of my forties, time seems more precious. So too does energy. And focus—for me, the most elusive of beasts. So I try very hard not to overload my schedule or accept distractions.

Which brings me nicely back to VMX 2025.

Over five days, I had six lectures. A couple of meetings that mattered. I recorded three podcasts back-to-back with someone I admire and respect greatly. I broke bread each night with people I love and bought a drink for those in my leadership training group doing the hard work of being the best leaders they can.

When I wasn’t doing those things, I was in the gym or pool, training hard as the vet world scurried past. No bars. No beers. No nonsense.

And for the first time in a long time—no anxiety. It was really nice.

Want more like this? Join my Veterinary Leadership Success Newsletter.