Sunday Scribblings - "Teeth" and/or "Sleep"

A profession that I find really repugnant is dentistry. I know there are plenty of jobs that are worse in plenty of ways, but for some reason, just the thought of having to peer into strangers' mouths makes me shudder.

Call it weird, but there’s something about teeth that gives me the heebie-jeebies. I hated the idea of the Tooth Fairy. When I read a story by Enid Blyton as a kid (ok, as an adult too), where these little gnomes carved toys out of human children’s teeth for the fairy children to play with, it made me feel ill. I loved scary stories but disliked the horror comics because of the skeletons – specifically, the skulls with their grinning teeth. Ugh. And even as an adult, the thought of parents keeping their children’s baby teeth as keepsakes sends a shiver down my spine.

I wouldn’t be a dentist for worlds, not even for the money – and they do make a good deal of money, especially in the West where they seem pretty thin on the ground and even thinner in the NHS. Getting an appointment with a good dentist inside of 6 months is near impossible – you could get a politician to tell the truth quicker than that. Or perhaps not. In any case, cutting short the waiting time by going to a less busy – and presumably less competent - dentist wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do… not even if your teeth are ready to fall like overripe fruit. Dentists use drills on your teeth! Enough said.

But getting back to dentists and their job, it beats me how they can face going in to work, knowing that they will, for the most part, be in close proximity to the vilest breath and the rottenest teeth. Day after day after day. Well, I don’t see people with perfect teeth and gums spending much time with a dentist, do you? And halitosis is nothing to laugh at when you’re up against it. Some of my colleagues could stop a charging elephant dead at 10 yards – just by opening their mouth. My lung capacity has improved enormously since I started work here because I’ve had to hold my breath for minutes at a time in sheer self-defence. (You can avoid halitosic (new word alert!) colleagues for only so long in an open-plan office.) So, a job where you have to face (pun unintended) a sort of assembly line of open mouths and festering teeth is pretty much at the bottom of my list of dream jobs. Actually, it doesn’t even figure on the list.

There ARE worse jobs. You only have to read this to know. But for all that, I still wouldn’t want to be a dentist. Ever.

Which brings me to my dream job – that of a mattress tester. What I wouldn’t give to be paid to sleep!