When I was little — about five years old — my mom took me to the dentist. Our dentist’s office was in a converted house which became a commercial building once it got surrounded by other businesses. It was a welcoming atmosphere.

When my time came to go back, the dentist came out to the lobby, called my name, and then, noting I shared a name with a spokes-cartoon for a popular cereal, he started calling me “Tiger”. He’d end up calling me “Tiger” for the next few years.

When he inevitably found I had cavities, he used some effective distraction techniques. For example, he pinched my gums where he was about to inject with Novacaine, repeatedly saying:

Dentist: “Just a little pinch here, just a pinch.”

Then, when the actual shot went in, he’d repeat:

Dentist: “Just a pinch.”

Because of this, I thought he was just pinching a little harder. He also had me look up so that he could get the syringe to my mouth without me seeing. Or when he started drilling, he said:

Dentist: “Here comes the tractor.”

And in my head, I’d just imagine a farm tractor, not realizing my teeth were getting drilled.

Years later, my mom worked for a different dentist, so I started going there. This doctor had no compunction about letting me see the needle, drill, or other implements. I got so nervous once when I needed two molars extracted that he had to give me a sedative in my arm so I’d be calm enough for the dental procedure.

I sure missed going to that other dentist…

I was sitting with my child at the pediatric dentist and overheard the most delightful conversation from a little boy sitting near us.

Dental Hygienist: “All right, champ! Can you tell me when your birthday is?”

They ask every child this to ensure they have the right chart pulled up at the right station.

Kid: *Looks hesitantly at his father* “I think I know it?”

Father: “Go ahead!”

Kid: “Well, I’m pretty sure my birthday is on January 12th, but I can’t remember whether I was born in 2015 or 2050. I think it’s one of those, though…”

As anyone who works in the veterinary industry knows, random people will crawl out of the woodwork and over hot coals to ask you for veterinary advice at any time. I have plenty of stories between colleagues and me about the acquaintance from high school who messages out of the blue after seven years, or, in one friend’s case, a partner’s cousin’s girlfriend who insisted on reaching out through text message about her dog.

This recent one from my coworker really takes the cake, though.

My coworker was having some advanced dentistry work done, and they were going to be sedated. The last step prior to sedation was to place a device in their mouth to keep the mouth open for access after they became unconscious. As you might imagine, this really inhibits one’s ability to speak.

My coworker was sitting in the dental chair, IV catheter placed, dental device just placed, and soon to be sedated. That’s when a dental assistant decided it was the right time to start a conversation.

Dental Assistant: “Oh, you work in a veterinary office, is that right?”

Unable to speak well, my coworker nodded.

Dental Assistant: “Well, my dog has had these chronic ear infections. The vet is talking about allergies and possibly doing a food trial and [other things]. Does that sound right to you?”

My coworker mumbled as politely and verbally as they could. I seriously don’t get people.

After ten years without a trip to a dentist, I decided to look for a local office after my new job’s insurance kicked in. This conversation happened upon my first phone call to a dentist’s office in the next town over. The nice woman asked me to provide some basic information, and the question of my insurance came up.

I was on break at work at the time and thus hadn’t thought to have my insurance card handy to give her the information. Since I was wearing gloves and my work pants had some odd back pockets, I struggled to fish my wallet out. I felt I was taking a little long, so I decided to break the silence.

Me: “So, how are you doing today?”

There was a long silence. I figured the woman didn’t hear me somehow, and I was willing to just not ask again as my wallet was now in my hand.

Lady: “Oh, were you talking to me?”

Me: “Yeah! How you doin’?”

Lady: *Suddenly very giddy* “Oh! I’m doing good, thank you! How are you?”

The rest of the conversation went normally. I imagine this woman deals with a lot of rude people in her day to day or just isn’t used to being asked such things. Either way, the joy in her voice was enough to make my day.

I’m in my mid-thirties and have been seeing the same dentist all my life, and he was fresh out of dental school when we started.

One day during a routine appointment, he asks me where I’m working.

Me: “I’m working dietary at [Local Nursing Home].”

Dentist: “Are you doing an apprenticeship, or did you study dietetics in college?”

Me: “Oh, nothing like that. I’m just the dishwasher.”

Dentist: “No, you’re not just the dishwasher. You have a very important job. You keep things clean for the residents, which is really important.”

I love my dentist.