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 and onions or something equally noxious to noon-time perfection. The rest of us would look at it, and complain about the smell, but one day it appeared that they were actually cooking something we would eat. One of the girls put a perfect round piece of tender meat on her plate, but I warned her, "I'd think about it before I tasted that!" and she threw the meat back in the crock pot. Our worst fears were true-it was tongue! Dr. "R" spent several minutes trying without success to convince us to taste it. Finally he gave up and got our real lunch out of the back room. Knowing in his heart that we would never touch their meal, he had purchased our favorite sandwiches at the local Dairy Queen.
There was never a dull moment with Dr. "R". He drew dental themed cartoons for us, added irreverent comments to our "to-do" or grocery lists, hid things in our shoes or snow boots, and wrote funny poems about us. We celebrated every occasion by bringing food to work and giving gag gifts. We were a team, with our own private jokes and humor. The day he told us he was closing the office and moving to another town was a stark contrast to the goofy times we had all enjoyed together. We knew a once in a lifetime experience had ended.
I have moved on to other offices, taking my memories with me. I am so thankful to Dr. "R" for teaching me lasting lessons-that work can be enjoyable, that we can deal with almost anything with humor, and that we should especially not take ourselves too seriously. I am sure I think of him at least once a day, and when I see my old co-workers, our conversation is filled with references to all the funny things that happened in our office. Dr. "R" died a few years ago, prematurely, at the age of fifty-one. Dr. "R", I hope you are "looking down".