Monday Mantra: When in Doubt, Get the Hell Out

A mantra is a sound, syllable, word, or group of words that is considered capable of "creating transformation".

Every Monday I will post a new thought, idea, or focus for the week. When you need a breather from life, when you need a little inspiration, or when you're about to jump over the conference table and strangle your co-worker, remember the mantra.

Monday Mantra: When in doubt, get the hell out of there

 

I may have mentioned in the past that I am a little persistent about keeping my teeth, well, as my teeth. It's kind of a thing for me, all the brushing and flossing and two dental cleanings a year. I have Denturephobia, what can I say? On one particular trip I got way more than I bargained for.

I used to have a wonderful lady I always went to for my cleanings, but she retired and I ended up with *Polly Esther, a nightmare of a hygienist  The last time I had gone was unpleasant, what with me getting sprayed all over with the water tool resulting in me looking like I had a bladder condition, but I had silently vowed to give her one more try before bailing on her. In hindsight, that was a very, very stupid decision. 

On my very last trip to this one particular office, as I was escorted back to my room, a dentist in a chair nearby with another patient gave me the most unprofessional look-over ever, what with the head to toe body scan and the creeptastic twinkle in his eye. I silently thanked my Guardian Angel of Dental Work for him not being the new hygienist. I sat down with Polly Esther, not sure what to expect this round, and  was pleasantly surprised by her somewhat improved skills. This is going to be fine, I assured myself. The change of clothes in the car are unnecessary,  I thought. Then, when my mouth was pried open as far as it could possibly go, she let loose and started telling me all about her vajayjay. In detail. (Actually  it was the real V word, plus some of the P word, but I'm trying to keep this classy, so let's go with Oprah's term.)

I about choked to death on the mirror tool thing in my mouth. I mean really, could this be any more awkward?  Me and my mouth being forced open, being told intimate details of things I had no desire to know and didn't think were even legitimate, as far as human anatomy was concerned. As she continued to let loose on me, the prisoner in her chair, she added more details of everything from her husbands performance to her after-giving-birth vajayjay. I am not making this up, by the way. At this time, I am literally melting into my chair, trying to become one with it so I can escape without further mental impairment or trauma to my teeth. I gasp for air and freedom and she releases her vice like death grip on my jaw. 

I sit there, staring at her wide eyed as she clearly has no idea how incredibly inappropriate she's been or weird, for that matter. I tell her I need to go to work and she says I need to stay for a minute longer so the dentist can check me out. I am thrilled to no end when she leaves the room. As I try and regain my composure and determine my next move, none other than *Dr. Creepy McCreeperson walks in. Apparently, this can get worse, I thought.

Dr. Creepy gives me about 2 or 3 more look-overs before he sits down and starts to make small talk. Where do I work, what do I do, what building do I work in, blah blah blah. I lie, and lie some more, tell him I am very late for work at this point and have to get going. At that moment, in walks Polly Esther and the two of them then decide to have a full blown conversation on trees or some crazy shit that has nothing to do with me or dental work at all. I stand up and get ready to leave and right as I'm trying to exit the room, Dr. Creepy blocks the doorway and, in what I assume he thinks is his sexy voice (but is really what I would call his stalker voice), he tells me, "I'll be seeing you again."

I respond with a laugh and a "No, no you won't" and leave. As I'm waiting to be checked out at the front desk, I wonder what the hell I should do next. The girl there calls me up and trys to schedule another appointment 6 months out. I tell her I won't be here. When she persists and asks what day would work better, I lose all of my composure, crazily wave my hands in the air like I'm casting some kind of a spell and simultaneously killing a bug, and explain that I won't be here, like here-here. In this room, this office, this building, this planet. I might move to Mars, I don't know. I just won't be here ever again. She stops making eye contact with me and I leave.

I've since found a new dentist, but have learned an important lesson: Don't wait to get the hell out of whatever situation you're in because there's a good chance it can get worse. And probably will. Unless you could get stabbed in the mouth, then maybe wait a little bit.

My teeth and brain are all fine, in case you were wondering. I am only slightly scarred. Several years of therapy and shock treatment and I should be back to normal. 

Anyone have advice on getting out of weird situations like this? Tactics, maybe, or some game plan for Interactions with the Insane? I'll use it next time, I promise.

*Names have been changed to protect the insane

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