Page 58 of Knot Your Basic B*tch
“My tooth is fucking throbbing right now. I took off work for this.” Ronald clenched his bony hands into a fist. He reminded me of my baby brother when he was on the verge of a meltdown. Except that Rowan was a two-year-old. “I’m here for my appointment and you are just wasting time. Why can’t you go and do your damn job?”
“I understand sir, just give me a minute to—”
He didn’t even let me finish my sentence.
“What, are you stupid or something? If I didn’t have to wait for you, I’d already be seeing the dentist by now.”
My mouth was hanging open. The second I realized, I shut it with a snap.
“Sir, I need to confirm that Dr. Miller still has the availability to see you.”
“What, are you a parrot? Got to repeat everything? If you weren’t such a stupid fuckingcunt, I’d be getting my teeth fixed right now.” Not only was Ronald raising his voice at me, he leaned in so close that tiny flecks of angry spit landed right on my face.
“Does there seem to be a problem? Sorry love, it’s Chloe’s first day.” Emma smiled at me with a smile that didn’t quitereach her eyes. “Why don’t you take a seat in the waiting area and I’ll go let Dr. Miller know that you’re here.”
That was basically the exact same thing that I said. So why was this loser nodding and doing what Emma told him to?
When Ronald went in the back to his appointment, he flashed Emma a smile, before rolling his eyes at me. Ronald muttered, in a completely audible voice, that I was a stupid bitch.
Okay.
It wasn’t my fault that he came in late.
My self reassurances that things could only get better were getting really strained.
Why did I think that working in a dentist’s office would be a quiet position? Sounds carried perfectly all the way from the treatment room to the front desk. I could heareverything.
I tried not to flinch as one parent screamed at her kid and tried my best to tune out the sound of sobbing.
“Just stop crying. Stop it. It’s making you drool more.”
“It’s going to hurt.” The kid couldn’t be older than four. She had sweet little pigtails and sparkly sneakers.
“You better knock that off, you hear me? It doesn’t even hurt, he just needs to check you to fix your teeth.”
All day, the noise would not stop.
I attempted to tune out the sounds of drilling, and the muffled sounds of kids screaming at the top of their lungs for long enough to focus on the next patient who had gotten to my counter.
I had imagined that Mr. Brown would be the worst patient of the day. Which was fine. I’d just knocked the worst out right away. It didn’t take me long to realize that this was clearly not the case.
“What the hell do you mean that it costs one thousand, three hundred and sixteen dollars? That isn’t what I was told over the phone.” A little old lady with curly gray hair and her wrinkled mouth twisted into a snarl was currentlyglaring at me like I had lit a bag of kittens on fire in front of her.
“Well then I can give a call to your insurance and have a representative discuss your exact coverage.” I could feel a headache tight across my forehead, like this conversation was about to reach into my skull, pinching my brain.
“No!” Yet another patient thought it was okay to scream at me. “I need you to honor the price you told me over the phone.”
“All I can do is give a call to your insurance.” I wasn’t even the one who spoke to her on the phone and told her however much she thought this appointment was going to cost.
The little old lady glared at me like I was personally out to get her. She didn’t thank me when I got a hold of her insurance and fixed whatever financial miscommunication happened before I even started working at Miller Smile’s Dentistry.
“Told you so,” she snapped at me, giving me a death glare as if she was putting me in my place. As if I had a secret vendetta, with malicious plots to overcharge my poor and defenseless elderly patients.
Everyone was stressed out.
Everyone was anxious. About their teeth. About the crazy cost and weird insurance policies that made no logical sense.
And the common denominator?