Last week, I had to go to the dentist. Before I landed my job last year, I still commuted home to Westchester to see my childhood dentist Dr. O. Literally, his last name is kind of hard to pronounce so we call him Dr. O. He rules. He has the gentle hands and kick ass hygenists who like to compliment my teeth ("You have such straight teeth!" And no braces? You are so lucky!") and distract me while they use their tools of death so it doesnt hurt. He even calls the suction thingie "Little Mr. Thirsty."
Flash forward. Last year. I get my dental insurance card. Dr. O doesn't take my plan. So I tried to weigh out the costs, $200 per visit to Dr. O for a cleaning twice a year or just find a new guy until I get an insurance plan that will bring me back to my beloved Doc. I chose the latter and settled with a guy who has an office near Central Park, not too far from where I work (figuring I can fit appointments into lunch hours).
On my first visit to my new tooth man I immeditaley noticed the marble floors and plush leather couches. "Kick ass!," I thought to myself as I waited and read magazines like Vanity Fair and W. Dr. O carried Highlights for Children and People. As I walked into an exam room, I noticed his walls were covered with photos. Photos of celebrities like the girl who plays Meadow Soprano and Faith Evans. B-listers, yes, but celebrities with good teeth nonetheless. I was impressed.
The hygenist sat me in her high-tech looking chair and gave me x-rays that popped up on this expensive looking computer. Cool enough, right? Then it all went to poo. She started talking about what a bad day she was having and how she got in a car accident and how her boyfriend is cheap. All the while, she was maiming my mouth with that pointy scraper thingie. She didn't even have her little mirror out. It was terrible pain, the likes I have never felt before from my Dr. O's kick ass hygenist, Pam (I miss you!).
I chalked it up to inexperince. I waited for the Doctor to come in. They told me I had only made an appoinment for a cleaning, not a check-up and I would have to come back....WTF? This is news to me. I mean really, doesn't the dentist just do the once over anyway and only intervenes if there are real issues??? But I had no choice but to make another appointment for a month later, during which I sat there for 30 minutes to wait for the new tooth man. He walked in. Wearing jeans. And a tight t-shirt that he shouldn't be really wearing. I wondered, is he going to a costume party dressed like Simon Cowell? I shook it off and let him exam me, which apparently cosists of his putting on some blue gloves and poking around my mouth for about 4.2 seconds and then asking me if I ever considered closing the small gap in my teeth. I told him, no, but he pretty much forced me to consider it after making me feel like a little girl in the schoolyard being made fun of.
Six months later. Crap, Dr. O is still not a fan of my insurance. I made another appointment with Dr. Cowell because I'm lazy and didn't feel like trying to find a new guy. I made sure to specify a check-up and cleaning so I wouldn't have to go back again. I was psyched to see that I had a different hygenist for my cleaning. She seemed nice enough. She got me ready for x-rays and asked me if I was pregnant. I said no. She said, "Lucky you."
WTF? Ok, I know I'm unmarried and have no engagement ring nor do I want a baby anytime soon, but what if I was a lesbian who was trying but couldn't get preggers. Would I be lucky then? NO! She crossed a line there and I don't care if she was insinuating that she was knocked up. Lady, keep your babies to yourself and clean my teeth.
Mind you it's my lunch break and I only have an hour. I had already waited 20 minutes. She looks like she wa about to start and says, "Oh God! Did you see Britney Spears???"
WTF? Lady, you are aboutto put Little Mr. Thirsty in my mouth and I won't be able to talk, so please, let's keep the Britney banter to a minimum ok? She then went on to discuss J.Lo and how good she looks and blahblahblah while stabbing me with her little sharp tool. BLOOD! EVERYWHERE! PAIN! Apparently she was the evil twin of the first hygenist. So she finishes, barely puts any effort while poliching my teeth and then calls the Doc in.
I started to laugh. He was wearing jeans. And a tight black t-shirt. Dr. Cowell dresses like this on a regular basis. Holy Crap! Where are his khakis and his lab coat??????? Once the humor wore off I looked closer. This guy goes tanning!!! I bet he has a young girlfriend named Bambi that he takes to the Carribean while his wife stays home and takes care of their kids. Oh yea, and you know he totally has a Ferrari. WHile I sat there sitting blood, Dr. Cowell mentioned the gap again. WTF? I felt emtionally raped. NO. MEANS NO.
Then it hit me. This guy was like once the McSteamy of dentistry. He's a fix-it guy who specializes in cosmetic dentistry who just happens to also offer check-ups!!! Hence, the "Put some sex appeal in your smile." on his business card. He examined me mouth again for like 4.2 seconds and sent me on my way.
Now all I can do is pray that Dr. O will come to his senses and take my insurance...please sweet Jesus. Save me from fake Simon Cowell, the dentist from hell.
