Last Friday I broke up with my dentist.
Looking back, I realize that our breakup was imminent, even though I’d somehow missed the signs:
- Her strolling in at 9:30 am for my 9 am appointment – with no apology to be found.
- The up selling tactics that were getting harder to ignore (e.g. I don’t want your f@#$% fluoride treatment!).
- Did I mention the ridiculous wait times?
But my last visit? My last visit was the final straw. There I was, watching my fingernails grow for 40 minutes when I happened to catch sight of my dentist comfortably thumbing through People magazine.
Dentist: “If you’re in such a rush you’re welcome to reschedule.” This. From the dentist herself.
Me: “I can’t simply reschedule. I have this crazy thing called a JOB. And I feel oddly compelled to go to it seeing as they pay me to do so.”
Dentist: “Fine. We can accommodate you by getting your cleaning done. But since you’re in a rush you’ll have to come back for the exam.”
Me: “Wait a second…you’re not accommodating ME because I have an appointment!”
*Insert huge sigh from the dentist. And a smart ass comment about how I need to be more understanding that things run behind sometimes (apparently this includes catching up on celebrity gossip).*
I think the dentist’s meds kicked in though because after one of the most painful cleanings I’ve ever had she calmly said: “Feel free to make an appointment to come back for the exam and we’ll do your x-rays then.”
Seriously? I guess it’s only obvious to me that I won’t be subsidizing the lease on her Mercedes anymore.
Like I said: nobody wants to do their job anymore. Nobody.