6/24/2003
Fix. Don't Judge.
I have. The dentist. From hell.
So there I was, on a Saturday morning, getting ready for a cleaning that was LONG overdue. Lets just say the last time I had my teeth cleaned was 3 degrees ago. I know. Disgusting. But I just never had the time or the proper nagging to get it done. But I finally bit the bullet and scheduled one.
Let me take the time to give you some backstory on why it had been 3 degrees since my last cleaning. I was eight years old, sitting outside my dentist's office, waiting for my appointment. All of a sudden, I heard screaming. I mean, piercing screaming. Screaming of an unholy nature. They were slaughtering the lambs. So I ran in and tried to save one of the lambs. Oh wait. Whoops. That was a movie. My bad.
But I really was 8 years old, and there really was an unholy scream emanating from the dentist's office. Apparently I went to the one dentist in California who decided NOT to use anasthetic when applying fillings for young children. So after all that screaming subsides, I see this red faced kid being walked out to his mom, and the dentist calls me in. Lets just say that 4 fillings and zero anasthetic later, I swore to God Almighty that I would never go back to this sadistic place again. And I kept my promise to God. Until Now.
So I'm sitting there in the dentist's chair when my dentist, who, I shit you not, is wearing fuschia, teal, and yellow stretch pants, leans over and starts surveying the damage.
"Hmmm.... there's a little erosion there. Do you drink soda?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I thought so. Hmmmm... you must drink a lot of tea."
"Uh, Coffee, actually."
"Yeah, you must drink 4 or 5 cups a day."
"Actually, just one in the morning, two at the most."
"Huh. Its been a while since your last cleaning, huh?"
"I guess so. I had a traumatic experience when I was young."
"Yeah, I can tell. Well, we'll see what we can do."
Ok, time out. WTF? At this point I'm getting a bit peeved. Hey Stretch Pants, its your job to fix my teeth, not judge my habits. If I wanted that I could have just lied down on my couch and had my mom go at my teeth. The nagging and judgment I get at home for free. Don't think that I'm going to pay for it now.
So now she busts of the drill or whatever and starts going at it. And I'm in total pain because she's digging that stupid thing up into my gums, but I suck it up and figure, "Look, this is your punishment for neglecting to do this. You can't be pissed that it hurts." So I wasn't. But the whole time, she's making judgments. "Gee, do you floss? I bet you don't floss." "Gosh, this tartar is really built up. Has anyone shown you the proper brush technique?" What am I twelve?
Anyway, as she's doing her thing, I'm noticing that my face is kind of getting wet. I just assume that its either my saliva or the water from the little suction thing. I don't think much of it. So about 30 minutes later, after she's all done, she sits me up and gives me a mirror to look at the work she's done. Ok, so I hold the mirror and look at myself, and seriously? My face? Covered in blood. Have you ever seen those movie shots where a guy has blood splatter all over his face because the guy standing less than a yard away from him just got shot in the face? Yeah. That was me. I had blood everywhere. Turns out it wasn't water or my saliva. It was blood from my fucking gums that just came spewing everywhere as she was digging around.
Now let me clarify. Am I mad because she made me bleed? No. Am I mad because the blood is all over my face? No. Am I mad that she never hinted to me that there was blood flying everywhere? No. Am I mad because she knew that I had a traumatic experience at the dentist when I was young and nevertheless neglected to wipe the blood from my face before giving me a mirror to check out her handiwork? FUCK YEAH! I mean, who does that? That's just a total lapse of common sense, right? Right.
Its almost as though she didn't even notice there was blood on my face until I was staring myself in complete horror. "Whoops! Look at that!" And then she proceeds to take dry paper towel and wipe the blood away. I am seriously just staring at her while she's doing this in total disbelief.
Maybe I was totally appalled because in my job I too deal with people who have problems. They have problems and they come to me to find out how to fix the problem. And you know what the key in dealing with clients is? Fix. Don't judge. I have people coming to me who have somehow got themselves into crazy predicaments where it would be so easy to hear their story and say, "You did what? Why did you do that? What are you, an idiot?" But really, how does that accomplish anything? They already know they were an idiot. And it takes them an awful lot of courage to even admit that and come to ask for my help. That courage should be acknowledged and commended. Because bottom line. They didn't have to come to me.
My job? To fix. Not judge. They tell me their problem, I tell them it will be ok, and we work out a plan to fix it. Because that is my job and that is what they pay me to do.
The point of this story? Put yourself in other people's shoes and be sympathetic to their concerns and their problems.
And for God's sake, take the time to wipe the blood off their face!
So there I was, on a Saturday morning, getting ready for a cleaning that was LONG overdue. Lets just say the last time I had my teeth cleaned was 3 degrees ago. I know. Disgusting. But I just never had the time or the proper nagging to get it done. But I finally bit the bullet and scheduled one.
Let me take the time to give you some backstory on why it had been 3 degrees since my last cleaning. I was eight years old, sitting outside my dentist's office, waiting for my appointment. All of a sudden, I heard screaming. I mean, piercing screaming. Screaming of an unholy nature. They were slaughtering the lambs. So I ran in and tried to save one of the lambs. Oh wait. Whoops. That was a movie. My bad.
But I really was 8 years old, and there really was an unholy scream emanating from the dentist's office. Apparently I went to the one dentist in California who decided NOT to use anasthetic when applying fillings for young children. So after all that screaming subsides, I see this red faced kid being walked out to his mom, and the dentist calls me in. Lets just say that 4 fillings and zero anasthetic later, I swore to God Almighty that I would never go back to this sadistic place again. And I kept my promise to God. Until Now.
So I'm sitting there in the dentist's chair when my dentist, who, I shit you not, is wearing fuschia, teal, and yellow stretch pants, leans over and starts surveying the damage.
"Hmmm.... there's a little erosion there. Do you drink soda?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I thought so. Hmmmm... you must drink a lot of tea."
"Uh, Coffee, actually."
"Yeah, you must drink 4 or 5 cups a day."
"Actually, just one in the morning, two at the most."
"Huh. Its been a while since your last cleaning, huh?"
"I guess so. I had a traumatic experience when I was young."
"Yeah, I can tell.
Ok, time out. WTF? At this point I'm getting a bit peeved. Hey Stretch Pants, its your job to fix my teeth, not judge my habits. If I wanted that I could have just lied down on my couch and had my mom go at my teeth. The nagging and judgment I get at home for free. Don't think that I'm going to pay for it now.
So now she busts of the drill or whatever and starts going at it. And I'm in total pain because she's digging that stupid thing up into my gums, but I suck it up and figure, "Look, this is your punishment for neglecting to do this. You can't be pissed that it hurts." So I wasn't. But the whole time, she's making judgments. "Gee, do you floss? I bet you don't floss." "Gosh, this tartar is really built up. Has anyone shown you the proper brush technique?" What am I twelve?
Anyway, as she's doing her thing, I'm noticing that my face is kind of getting wet. I just assume that its either my saliva or the water from the little suction thing. I don't think much of it. So about 30 minutes later, after she's all done, she sits me up and gives me a mirror to look at the work she's done. Ok, so I hold the mirror and look at myself, and seriously? My face? Covered in blood. Have you ever seen those movie shots where a guy has blood splatter all over his face because the guy standing less than a yard away from him just got shot in the face? Yeah. That was me. I had blood everywhere. Turns out it wasn't water or my saliva. It was blood from my fucking gums that just came spewing everywhere as she was digging around.
Now let me clarify. Am I mad because she made me bleed? No. Am I mad because the blood is all over my face? No. Am I mad that she never hinted to me that there was blood flying everywhere? No. Am I mad because she knew that I had a traumatic experience at the dentist when I was young and nevertheless neglected to wipe the blood from my face before giving me a mirror to check out her handiwork? FUCK YEAH! I mean, who does that? That's just a total lapse of common sense, right? Right.
Its almost as though she didn't even notice there was blood on my face until I was staring myself in complete horror. "Whoops! Look at that!" And then she proceeds to take dry paper towel and wipe the blood away. I am seriously just staring at her while she's doing this in total disbelief.
Maybe I was totally appalled because in my job I too deal with people who have problems. They have problems and they come to me to find out how to fix the problem. And you know what the key in dealing with clients is? Fix. Don't judge. I have people coming to me who have somehow got themselves into crazy predicaments where it would be so easy to hear their story and say, "You did what? Why did you do that? What are you, an idiot?" But really, how does that accomplish anything? They already know they were an idiot. And it takes them an awful lot of courage to even admit that and come to ask for my help. That courage should be acknowledged and commended. Because bottom line. They didn't have to come to me.
My job? To fix. Not judge. They tell me their problem, I tell them it will be ok, and we work out a plan to fix it. Because that is my job and that is what they pay me to do.
The point of this story? Put yourself in other people's shoes and be sympathetic to their concerns and their problems.
And for God's sake, take the time to wipe the blood off their face!
Mix of the Week
I don't pretend to be John Cusack in High Fidelity. I'm not a music snob. If I like it, I listen to it, regardless of whether its rated 4 stars by Rolling Stone or not. So these are the songs I'm feeling this week:
1. The Scientist, Coldplay
2. Sing, Eminem
3. Bleed to Love Her, Fleetwood Mac
4. Lover, You Should Have Come Over, Jeff Buckley
5. Designs on You, Old 97's
6. Boys Don't Cry, Plumb
7. Epiphany, Staind
8. Squeeze Me In, Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood
9. Everybody's Fool, Evanescence
10. Promises In the Dark, Pat Benatar
1. The Scientist, Coldplay
2. Sing, Eminem
3. Bleed to Love Her, Fleetwood Mac
4. Lover, You Should Have Come Over, Jeff Buckley
5. Designs on You, Old 97's
6. Boys Don't Cry, Plumb
7. Epiphany, Staind
8. Squeeze Me In, Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood
9. Everybody's Fool, Evanescence
10. Promises In the Dark, Pat Benatar
Guilty Pleasures, aka, "Move over Celine, here comes Cher!"
That's right, I love Celine Dion. I really do. And you know what? I'm not afraid to admit it. Ok, that's not entirely true. When I stand on BART cycling through my MP3 player, I hide the screen so no one knows I have the Dion; that I actually took the time to rip all her CDs, (yup, even the French Album) and move them into my cheap-ass MP3 player. I even turn the volume down a little so no one will hear. Although this is really just a diservice to me, because lets be honest, if you're gonna listen to the Dion, you have to crank it up.
But there I was this morning, cycling through my MP3 player, and what should come between Charlie Mingus and Coldplay? That's right. The survivor herself: Cher. I had completely forgot that I bought her Greatest Hits album a few months ago and put it on my player. So I play it.
Ho. Lee. Shit. Its good. I mean, really good. The thing you have to love about Cher is that when she sings it, you really believe that she means it. Yes Cher, I do believe in life after love. If I could turn back time I'd take back those words that hurt you, and you'd stay. I'm sorry your baby shot you down. And of course there are times that I wish my heart was made of stone. And thank for your important reminder that its in his kiss.
So in honor of Cher and Celine, here is my Top 5 List of Guilty Pleasures. If you disagree with my selections, or have any critiques whatsoever, then shut up and start your own blog. I didn't ask you.
5) Fried Pork Rinds: Ok, seriously? Every time I'm grocery shopping near the chip aisle, I always pause when I see that red fried bag of goodness. You know you do too. And when I do buy them, I totally hide them in the back of the cupboard. "Its so good when it touches your lips!"
4) US Weekly Magazine: Does anyone else think that US Weekly is actually just a real-life comic book? I mean all the stories are told through fuzzy, grainy pictures. You never have to read anything. Its trash. I've "read" every issue.
3) Real World Marathons: I could really care less about the people who have been on the Real World. A bunch of pretty people whining about the most inane and unimportant topics. "Ewww! Puck blows snot rockets!" "Beth's a drama queen!" "Hi, I'm Amaya. I look like a cross between the Olsen twins and Drunk Girl." "I'm Julie. I want to kiss Matt." But I can't tell you how many times I have woken up on a Saturday morning, only to turn on the TV and be sucked in to a stupid ass 48 hour marathon.
2) Bring It On: For some reason I can watch this movie over and over again and never get sick of it. Do I admit it? HELL NO!
1) Air Supply: Oh you know you love it. "I'm all out of love. I'm so lost without you. I know you were right, believing for so long." You know Air Supply is totally playing in every elevator in heaven.
But there I was this morning, cycling through my MP3 player, and what should come between Charlie Mingus and Coldplay? That's right. The survivor herself: Cher. I had completely forgot that I bought her Greatest Hits album a few months ago and put it on my player. So I play it.
Ho. Lee. Shit. Its good. I mean, really good. The thing you have to love about Cher is that when she sings it, you really believe that she means it. Yes Cher, I do believe in life after love. If I could turn back time I'd take back those words that hurt you, and you'd stay. I'm sorry your baby shot you down. And of course there are times that I wish my heart was made of stone. And thank for your important reminder that its in his kiss.
So in honor of Cher and Celine, here is my Top 5 List of Guilty Pleasures. If you disagree with my selections, or have any critiques whatsoever, then shut up and start your own blog. I didn't ask you.
5) Fried Pork Rinds: Ok, seriously? Every time I'm grocery shopping near the chip aisle, I always pause when I see that red fried bag of goodness. You know you do too. And when I do buy them, I totally hide them in the back of the cupboard. "Its so good when it touches your lips!"
4) US Weekly Magazine: Does anyone else think that US Weekly is actually just a real-life comic book? I mean all the stories are told through fuzzy, grainy pictures. You never have to read anything. Its trash. I've "read" every issue.
3) Real World Marathons: I could really care less about the people who have been on the Real World. A bunch of pretty people whining about the most inane and unimportant topics. "Ewww! Puck blows snot rockets!" "Beth's a drama queen!" "Hi, I'm Amaya. I look like a cross between the Olsen twins and Drunk Girl." "I'm Julie. I want to kiss Matt." But I can't tell you how many times I have woken up on a Saturday morning, only to turn on the TV and be sucked in to a stupid ass 48 hour marathon.
2) Bring It On: For some reason I can watch this movie over and over again and never get sick of it. Do I admit it? HELL NO!
1) Air Supply: Oh you know you love it. "I'm all out of love. I'm so lost without you. I know you were right, believing for so long." You know Air Supply is totally playing in every elevator in heaven.
