Now...Spit!

Friends,

I'm hunting for jobs in Madison, Wisconsin. It's been a thorough hunt thus far, really scouring those websites (my favorite one so far Indeed.com). So today I uploaded my resume to some of the more popular career finding sites, and I got an e-mail from one of them, Careerbuilder.com, with a list of jobs that apparently my resume qualifies me for.

Now, you know my resume. MFA in Creative Writing. BS in Elementary Education. Teaching experience out the ass. Menial jobs in-between. Scant publications. Anyway, there was a slew of shitty jobs that I'm qualified for (custmoer service things, naturally). A few that I'd like, but not really qualified for, (Vice President of Learner Success at a technical college? Really?). And a couple really screwball ones, such as a heavy machine mechanic. But the goofball one that takes the cake for me...apparently, in Green Bay, Wisconsin, according to CareerBuilder.com, I could be a dentist.

That wouldn't be too bad. I always liked the dentist when I was kid. Seriously. I was a brush-twice-a-day person for a long time, drunk plenty of milk, had routine checkups. The dentist was always a nice way to kill an afternoon. The flouride. The vaccuum spit machine. The deep cleaning of teeth. The plaque scraping. None of it bugged me. Me and Dr. Splangard got along real good. Once I no longer got dental insurance, trips there were too expensive for me, so I quit going. But even when I finally did get a check up at the denistry school in Carbondale where they filled two cavities for me, it wasn't a bad experience.

However, I always knew denistry wasn't for me. I couldn't stick my hands in other people's mouths all day long, every working day, especially having seeing some of the horrorshow maws of my hometown. Seriously, some of those people looked like they enjoyed eating marbles and batteries for dinner. One guy I'll always remember had two full rows of bottom teeth. I'm not joking. And is breath smelled like he had just eaten a pound of hobo underwear. There were all kinds of fucked up chompers for sure. Plus, the breath smells. Oh, jesus, can you imagine? You've smelled bad breath before, but I can't imagine the bouquet of rot a dentist would have to withstand. And you'd have to deal with those cute fuckers who'd show up with a pound of cheeto and oreo caked into the grooves of their teeth. And little kids whose parents worked them into an anti-dentite lather, so they'd be squirming and screaming, while the parents look at you like your some Spanish Inquisitator. Nevermind dealing with insurance companies, battling malpractice suits, ordering all those Highlights magazines...Dentists, man, god bless'em.





viva dentists