Sort Your Face Out

Woman with crossed arms looking unhappy against a grey background

Sort Your Face Out

Yes, I said it.

Sort your face out.

We talk endlessly about personal brand now.

How you show up online.
What your LinkedIn profile says about you.
What you wear.
What you post.
How you position yourself professionally.

But I want to talk about something far more basic.

How do you actually show up when you walk through the door of the clinic?

Because I’ve been there.

I’ve worked in dental practices where working there made me miserable.

I’ve worked in cultures that drained the living daylights out of me.

I’ve worked alongside people who were negative, toxic and constantly shit-stirring.

I’ve been unhappy.

I’ve felt unfulfilled.

I’ve felt unappreciated.

I’ve felt taken for granted.

I’ve felt like I was carrying everybody else.

So this isn’t coming from somebody who thinks you should bounce into work every morning full of joy and gratitude.

Far from it.

But I learned something quite young. Mid-twenties is young, right?

Turning up with a face like a slapped arse doesn’t fix any of it.

And before anyone thinks I’m dismissing genuine mental health issues, I’m not. This isn’t about somebody who is struggling with their mental health and needs proper support. I’m talking about being unhappy at work, knowing you’re unhappy at work, and allowing that unhappiness to dictate how you show up every single day.

Because at some point, you have to take responsibility for what happens next.

It doesn’t make you happier.

It doesn’t improve the culture.

It doesn’t make your manager suddenly realise your potential.

And it certainly doesn’t improve how everybody else sees you.

Because whether you like it or not, people notice how you enter a room.

The slumped shoulders.

The sighing.

The eye rolling.

The monosyllabic answers.

The expression that tells everybody within ten feet of you that you would rather be absolutely anywhere else.

And then we wonder why the atmosphere feels awful.

Your mood enters the room before you do

This isn’t about pretending.

I’m not suggesting you plaster a smile across your face when everything is falling apart.

But you do need some self-awareness about what you’re giving everybody else.

Because if you arrive radiating negativity every day, it eventually becomes part of your professional reputation.

People notice.

Your colleagues notice.

Your manager notices.

The clinicians notice.

And, more importantly, patients notice.

You are getting airtime.

Trust me.

But it might not be the airtime you want.

“What’s wrong with her today?”

“He’s in one of his moods again.”

“Don’t ask them. They’ll only kick off.”

“She’s clearly had enough.”

That becomes your personal brand.

Not the version you’ve carefully curated on Instagram or LinkedIn.

The real one.

So what do you do when you’re genuinely unhappy?

My mum had a mantra when I was growing up:

Always do what makes you happy.

And that has stayed with me.

It doesn’t mean walking out every time somebody drives you up the wall.

It doesn’t mean everything at work should be wonderful every single day.

And it certainly doesn’t mean avoiding difficult situations.

It means recognising when something isn’t working and accepting some responsibility for what happens next.

If you’re unhappy, do something about it.

Ask for a meeting.

Speak to your practice manager.

Speak to the owner.

Explain why you’re struggling.

Maybe you don’t feel appreciated.

Maybe you’ve stopped feeling challenged.

Maybe your role has become repetitive.

Maybe you’re taking on responsibilities that nobody acknowledges.

Maybe you can see opportunities within the business that you’d love to get involved with.

Maybe you want more responsibility.

Maybe you actually want less.

Maybe the culture genuinely isn’t right for you anymore.

Have the conversation.

But here’s the important bit.

Don’t turn the meeting into a BMW session

And by BMW, I mean:

Bitch. Moan. Whine.

Don’t arrive with a catalogue of everything that’s wrong, spend an hour dumping it onto somebody else’s desk and then expect them to fix your life.

Bring some solutions.

Tell them what would make a difference.

Explain where you think your strengths could be better used.

Talk about what would make your role more fulfilling.

If you’ve spotted something within the business that could be improved, explain it and tell them how you could help.

Own some of it.

Because there’s a huge difference between saying:

“I’m really unhappy here.”

and saying:

“I’m struggling with where my role is at the moment. These are the reasons why, and I’ve been thinking about what could change.”

One starts a complaint.

The other starts a conversation.

And sometimes, you need to leave

There. I’ve said that too.

Sometimes your face doesn’t fit anymore.

The business has changed.

You’ve changed.

Your ambitions have changed.

The people have changed.

Or perhaps you’ve simply reached the end of your time there.

That’s okay.

But staying somewhere you’re deeply unhappy, turning up miserable every day and slowly poisoning your own reputation isn’t the answer.

If you’ve had the conversations.

If you’ve tried to change things.

If nothing is going to improve.

Maybe you need to go.

Because there is something deeply empowering about recognising:

I have control over what I do next.

You might not control the owner.

You might not control your manager.

You definitely don’t control Brenda at reception, who has been winding everybody up since 2007.

But you control you.

You control the conversations you have.

You control the opportunities you look for.

You control whether you stay.

And you control how you present yourself while you decide.

So, if you’re dragging yourself through the clinic door every morning, shoulders down, sighing before you’ve even taken your coat off, waiting for everybody to ask what’s wrong…

Take a good long look at what’s happening.

Have the conversation.

Find a solution.

Make a change.

Or make a plan to leave.

But please.

Sort your face out.

Laura