Forty-sixth posting - Dr?

One of the most difficult aspects of being a writer must be the constant threat of writer’s block. (If it is this easy to not write something, I should probably take “writer” off of my future vocation list.) It’s not that I haven’t had a million and a half subjects flying through my head over the past week or so… I think that my situation at work has taken a toll on a greater proportion of my thinking than just the time I’m at the office.

Anyhoo, today I had a dentist appointment. Some background first: Dr. C. and his wife, also Dr. C., started a practice together ten years ago. Keep it in the family, they thought. Both were straight up dentists – nothing fancy like cosmetic surgery or teeth whitening back then. Four or so years ago, the receptionist at C & C Dentistry got a little friendly with Dr. C., the husband, probably at a “conference.” This friendliness became more intimate, and the Drs. C. parted ways, leaving Dr. C, the husband, with the practice, which became C. Dental, and leaving the receptionist with a huge rock on her finger and a twinkle in her boss’s eye. Now Dr. C can make your teeth whiter and your gums bigger, and find a little action on the side for himself, too…

This morning I was a few minutes early to my 8:50 appointment. In the dental world, it’s bad luck to have appointments start on the hour or on the half-hour. Just kidding. I said hello to a different receptionist, who said, “Have a seat, Nathan.” I then read the paper and some of the Economist before realizing I’d been there an hour already. I was sitting ten feet from the front desk, but the place was busy, so I figured they were running late. Ten minutes later a troll of a woman comes in with her Goth daughter, sits down next to me with a harrumph, spots the TV’s remote control on the table and turns on the TV to Montell Williams. My annoyance level quickly escalated when I heard the subject of the show was something like Women Who Can’t Leave Bad Relationships. After less than a minute of the mother and daughter chattering, “I can’t believe she’d stay with that asshole,” and “He’ll get what he deserves…this show don’t leave you hangin’”, I walked to to the front desk and told them I’d been there for almost an hour and a half, and that I wanted to reschedule my appointment.

Immediately I got apologies coming from everywhere, and I didn’t yell (I don’t know if I’m capable of yelling, to be honest), and one receptionist blamed the other. I wanted to ask which one was sleeping with Dr. C. now, but I didn’t. So I’m going back next week for another tortuous morning. Next time, I hope someone actually looks at my teeth before I leave…

NATHAN