Last night, I was compelled by a strong odor to give one of my Dobermans, Valenzia, a bath. Those of you who have seen Valenzia in action or read about her know that she is kind of an anxious dog — as in, wound so tight she makes a Slinky look downright relaxed. Fortunately, she is also very food-motivated, so bath time — once a terrifying, stressful experience — is now just the occasional unpleasant interlude that she has learned to barter for cookies.
I grabbed a handful of treats and gave Valenzia the bath cue. She dashed into the bathroom and jumped immediately into the tub, already whining because she knew she was about to get wet and wouldn’t like it, but willing to endure it in exchange for tasty liver treats. As I sprayed her with warm water, she assumed her usual bath position: head down, eyes squeezed shut, tail tucked, muscles tense. She held very still during the bath, moving only to accept the occasional treat. After I’d toweled her off and given her a release cue, she sprang out of the tub in relief and began running laps to burn off the tension, leaving wet pawprints all over the house.
This morning, I had a dental appointment. Now, I don’t really mind going to the dentist; the office staff are nice people, and I’ve never had a terrible experience there. But having someone poke about inside my mouth with sharp metal objects isn’t my first choice in leisure activities, and I really, really dislike the taste and texture of tooth polish and fluoride, so I’m grateful that dental visits are only necessary two or three times a year.
As I lay in the chair while a hygenist cleaned my teeth, I caught myself exhibiting the same kind of behavior I’d seen in my dog the night before: eyes closed, muscles tense, rigidly still. If I had a tail, it probably would have been tucked. I chomped the uncomfortable x-ray plates, endured the irritating whine and vibration of polishing, and resisted gagging on the nauseating fake-strawberry-flavor fluoride treatment, conscious that each unpleasant step was closer to being done. I understood completely my dog’s urge to bounce away and run in circles after her bath was finished.
After my exam, as I handed over my credit card at the cashier’s desk, I found myself reflecting on the visit and questioning the factor of reinforcement. Why do I go through this? There is certainly negative reinforcement involved — guilt for not going to the dentist regularly, as well as the threat of dental problems in the future — but where is my positive reinforcement? Valenzia at least got treats during her bath, I thought, whereas I’m actually paying $270 for a less-than-pleasant experience. What’s wrong with this picture?
Many clicker trainers and TAGteach practitioners have learned the benefits of reinforcing during dental checkups, but most of us don’t have a dedicated coach waiting to TAG us. I do carry a TAGulator attached to my purse; I could self-TAG if necessary. But as a paying client (and behavior nerd) who often makes business decisions based on behavior practices, I’d like to see the experience itself become more rewarding and less unpleasant.
In fairness to my dentist, the office does offer forms of positive reinforcement; there’s a “prize basket” full of goodies — toothbrush holders, notepads, sudoku books, mini hand sanitizers — from which patients may select an item after their appointment. There’s also a basket of dark chocolate just past the cashier’s counter, along with a sign extolling the benefits of dark chocolate in preventing tooth decay (see, Mom, I told you all that chocolate was good for me!). The problem with these rewards is their placement by the exit — the reinforcement is delivered just as you’re paying and about to leave the office, rather than during the unpleasant part of the visit.
Then again, from a business perspective, it makes PERFECT SENSE to reinforce clients for paying their bills. Maybe my dentist is actually more behavior-savvy than I thought…
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Ha! Today I was at the ophthalmologist and was having very similar thoughts about counter-conditioning! (Eye visits are stressful for me.) I will have to self-TAG through that ghastly part where they touch my eyeballs. /shudder/ And then reinforce with dark chocolate. 🙂