Kip Lyda 9 a.m., May 22
- Community Blog
- Daily Crasher
What's Worse -- The Dentist or Rachel Ray?
Always fun to start my day waking up a few hours earlier than usual. And for a dentist, no less.
They have these great, huge flat screens in there now. Gone are the days of staring at goofy, framed wildlife photos that cater to children.
But the dental hygienist/assistant, stewardess, or whatever they’re called now…had it on Rachel Ray. What the heck??
I don’t cook, and…they’re cleaning our teeth. This is a time to be watching something other than foods that can stain and ruin our pearly whites.
And what is the etiquette for changing the station? I mean, what if this woman really wanted to learn how to make the soufflé she was preparing? Or, what if I’m sitting there with my legs up (after just changing the channel), and it makes her think of her husband in the recliner at home, always in control of the remote. She might press down with that sharp metal thing just a little harder.
Wouldn’t the news be a safe bet for a TV in this situation? With TV shows, people are going to have different tastes, but everyone is interested in what’s going on in the world.
Before I left the house, I heard on CNN that a kid got busted at the airport for having Play Doh. A suitcase at another airport had bomb sniffing dogs going crazy. And President Obama prepared to do a news conference on airport security (shouldn’t he worry about security at his own events first?)
Some of my goofy guy friends like it better when they’re getting a massage from an attractive woman, or if the nurse is cute when they’re at the doctor. I’m the exact opposite. If I’m in a hospital gown, or I have my mouth pried open, I’d rather it not be someone I find attractive.
The woman cleaning my teeth was an attractive Filipina. She didn’t say hello or anything. All she asked was if I wanted my mouth numbed before they started. I had never heard a dentist offer that, but I’m guessing all these people that don’t floss or take care of their mouths, cringe in pain at every little thing and they got tired of it.
After that question, she made absolutely no conversation with me. Of course, had she tried to, I would be complaining now about how you can’t talk when there are hoses squirting water into your mouth, and your tongue is being pressed down by her hand.
I leave 30 minutes later with a clean mouth, and happy to see this is one business where they don’t have a tip jar on the counter. I head back to my car.
On one of the radio shows, a DJ talked about a reality show contestant who won “Biggest Loser” has gained the 214 pounds back. Now, it’s all coming back (get ready for the pun)…FULL CIRCLE…as he’s doing a reality show on gaining the weight back (the things people will do to get back on TV). I’m wondering if he’s going to claim that the “camera adds 10 pounds” to how he looks now.
I stopped into Border’s to buy my friend a birthday gift. I knew the perfect thing for her and was happy they had it there.
I also picked up a Dave Barry book that looked funny (okay, who am I kidding? It was on sale).
The line had about 20 people in it. Geez, I thought after January lines got back down to normal.
The five cashiers were on the ball, always saying “I can help the next customer in line.” You know if they didn’t do that, the first person in line would be daydreaming or looking at those crappy impulse items, and holding things up.
But just as I’m giving props to them in my mind, the cashier starts asking me a bunch of insane questions.
“Did you find everything you needed?”
(Thinks to self: Uh…yeah, or I’d still be walking around those aisles looking)
Says: Yes, thanks.
“Are you going to use your Border’s card today?”
(Thinks to self: If I was going to use it, it would be on the counter next to my Visa)
Says: No. I don’t have one.
“Really? Why not? They’re free. I can get you one right now.”
(Thinks to self: Am I going to save 50% or more? If not, why bother? And you’ll just want my email address to spam me deals and other garbage I don’t need. Besides, I read about one book every two years…I’m hardly the person to pitch this to).
Says: Oh…well…that’s okay.
Now, the cashier points to a stack of books near her register. She tells me, “Have you seen this book? It’s a New York Times bestseller. It’s about this guy that places an ad in the paper for a wife. He gets one, but she’s planning to kill him and take all his money.”
(Thinks to self: Why are you telling me this? Did you write the book? Did the author offer to give the Border’s staff a commission on each one sold? Should I tell you about my one book every two years reading habit? Should I fane interest? Should I tell you the theme to the blog I’m going to write later, which will likely include these questions?)
(Thinks to self: is she now going to tell me if I buy one of those books I get the second one free?)
The rest of the transaction went well and question free, although…I found it odd that she asked me if I wanted a bag. I had a total of four items. Shouldn’t that question be reserved for people that buy one thing?
But I can’t get mad. It probably helps the environment to not give bags to people that don’t really need them, I dunno.
As I walked to my car, I remembered being 16-years-old and trained at McDonald’s. At the register, there were six window steps you had to follow. The first was “greet the customer,” which is always easy to remember to do.
At the end of their order, you’re supposed to “suggestive sell.” And you’re supposed to use some common sense. If they ordered a Big Mac and fries, you ask them if they’d like a Coke. If they ordered the combo meal, you ask them if they’d like to add a hot apple pie for dessert (just don’t tell them they’ll scold the roof of their mouth, and they’d have a flap of burned skin hanging onto their tongue for days).
If they ordered a complete meal and dessert, you don’t suggestive sell anything. And if they say no to your suggestions, you never suggest a second item. It comes off as pushy.
I walk to my car, noticing that an SUV is parked right up against my door. On the passenger side, it’s a small Honda. That vehicle is against the passenger door, because they’re obviously not able to line a car up in between two painted white lines (in both cars defense, the spaces at the Borders in Mission Valley are small…but still).
As I set my purchases on the roof of my car trying to figure out the best way to shimmy my body in…I realize that it would’ve been so much easier to have my items in a bag on the roof, instead of watching as they slowly slide down the windshield.