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Dentists can be really funny. I know that sounds impossible, but for eighteen years of my working life I worked for a dentist who was a lunatic. And I mean that in the best possible way.

Dr. "R" took his work seriously. When other dentists had occasion to examine his crown and bridge work or composite restorations, they always commented, complimenting his skills. He was a talented workaholic and a perfectionist when it came to dentistry. When it came to his "girls" he expected us to work hard, but he was a merciful boss, and blessed us with his unique sense of humor. We were loyal sidekicks, even playing the "straight man" for his jokes.

Dr. "R" and I rode to work at our satellite office together, and one day we took my daughter's car so I could have it washed and detailed for her. It was an Eagle Talon, red, and quite flashy for the day. On the way home I asked Dr. "R" if he would like to drive; he of course welcomed the opportunity. It began to rain, and Dr. "R" just kept driving, making no effort to turn on the wipers. Worried that he couldn't see out the window, I motioned to the controls and asked, "Why don't you use your mister thing?". I meant the windshield washer, but he chose to interpret it as your "Mister Thing", and responded indignantly, "I beg your pardon. Why don't you use your Mrs. thing?"

Our patients were an endless source of amusement. As a new assistant I struggled with all the hoses, knobs and switches on the assistant's cart. One day during his treatment, a particularly apprehensive patient leaped out of the chair shouting, "There's something wet in my ear!" I had been resting my hand on the water syringe, unaware that I was directing a stream of water directly into his ear. Then there was the day I took an impression and the patient's very loose tooth came out in the impression. Scared to death, I showed the whole works to Dr. "R". Deadpan, he instructed me, "Tell her we're not going to charge her for that extraction."

While I seated an elderly lady in the treatment room she mentioned that her legs had been hurting. With that, she swung them effortlessly into the air, over the top of her walker and into position in the chair. Dr. "R"s eyes got big. But he had to leave the room when she spotted our emergency oxygen tank in the corner and asked, "Who's the golfer?"

Our receptionist and Dr. "R" shared a love of organ meats, which was incomprehensible to the rest of the staff. At least one day a week a crock pot in the staff room simmered liver

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