Monday, December 12, 2011

I Want to Be a Dentist!

I went to get a cleaning and checkup today.  The office is run by a couple who met professionally, then married.  It is quite literally a Mom and Pop shop.

I love the word "quite."  It adds no content, but very nicely adds flavor.

Anyway, Margaret Mary Something was my hygienist.  Her certificate of dental hygienery was dated 1983, so that makes her a few years older than me.  She was, as they say in more polite circles, a bit eccentric.

She was not all that chatty... with me.  She occasionally vocalized the monologue that was going in inside her head, but there did not appear to be an expectation that I needed to pay attention or respond in any way.  On the few occasions where she did address me, it was in a weird tangential way.  "Some people floss better with those floss picks.  I'm nobody's mother and can't tell anyone what to do, but we have some samples of them."

There were a couple of other hygienists in of the other rooms that were very loudly talking to their patients about nonsense and sundries.  Margaret Mary said at one point, "No need for me to be chatty.  We can listen to them."

Her approach to the actual cleaning was, shall we say, aggressive.  But even with that bit of pain, my teeth are extra clean and shiny, and I had some time to think.  I think I'll ask for her again.

1 comment:

Mustang Bobby said...

I have an old-fashioned dentist. He does all of his own work. He doesn't have a hygenist, he doesn't have a fancy computerized appointment system; he doesn't even take credit cards. It's just him and a receptionist. I'm in and out in twenty minutes; longer if we start talking about antique cars. He's only in his Miami office three days a week; the rest of the time he's up in north Florida doing pro bono work for the poor.

I am dreading the day when he finally retires.