The Cynical Career Counsellor Explains Your Future as a

Dental Assistant

Hey--Almost forgot your appointment, didn't you--good thing you got back; I was just leaving. You do that sort of thing a lot, don't you?

No--I'm never here after hours; the evening custodian just says that everytime he's about to light up the bong... er, I mean, he says there's this annoying kid--nevermind. Just have a seat.

Dental assistant? There are some pitfalls ahead, I fear.

You'll go to a technical school of some sort, and learn all about dental instruments, suction and chair operation. You'll learn the tricky art of staying out of the dentist's way while providing him or her with instant help. You'll even learn to translate the garbled articulation of those whose mouths are frozen and filled with gauze.

You're a good student, even if you forget stuff, so you'll get a good job working with one of the more successful dental offices in town. There you'll truly experience all that is disgusting about the human mouth. The mask and glasses don't save you from the stench of fetid rotting teeth, and the water rinse nozzle or the drill just bounce bits of that decay off whatever parts of your skin aren't protected by your gear.

It will take some pretty long showers to make you feel clean after work.

Your boss specializes in "painfree" dental work--he has a particular clientele who are rather phobic about such things--and he has more work than he can handle. Though you get off work at five, he begins scheduling some patients for after hours appointments. He explains that it's the only way he can keep up with the demand for his services, but assures you he's able to handle those extra clients on his own.

You notice that most of these after hours patients are attractive women, but you don't really think about it. Then, one day, you come back because you've once again forgotten something at work. He won't notice you until it's too late--the whole creepy situation now suddenly makes sense, and he rushes after you as you run from the office.

He pleads with you not to reveal his crime, and informs you that your salary and holiday time have both been immediately doubled. You just push him away and drive home.

You don't report for work the next day as you decide what to do. He sends you an email promising it will never happen again, and offering you a share of the business. That afternoon, as you're taking your dog for a walk and trying to clear your head, a car comes out of nowhere and almost runs you down. The driver speeds off, but you instantly know it was no accident.

Fearing for your safety, you rush to the police station and swear out a statement detailing what you saw back in the office. Soon there's a major media circus with you and your boss as featured players. At first, his lawyers try to spin it that you are simply vindictively making up the story because he rejected your romantic overtures, but when two patients come forward to verify your boss's crimes, you become a sort of hero.

It's an election year, and the rights of women in the workplace had already been simmering as an election issue. Soon, candidates from both sides are dropping by to ask your opinion on proposed legislation, and the eventual winner celebrates your courage by inviting you to walk next to her in the "take back the night" march.

There's a great deal of goodwill you can capitalize on--you are offered a variety of jobs with various committees and agencies designed to stop workplace sexual harassment, but you tell everyone you just want to do what you trained to do. The powers that be grant your wish--you are offered a job in Washington at one of the preeminent dental clinics in the world. Some of the top politicians and their high-level staff become your clientele, and you make more money working for your new boss than you would have made even if you'd accepted the bribe offer at your previous office.

It all sounds pretty good, doesn't it. Unfortunately, it doesn't last. There's a revolution in some third world country--their dictator had been a staunch supporter and ally of the current administration--and when he flees for his life, he is whisked away to Washington. Instead of calming the folks back in his home nation, there are daily protests and riots as citizens demand he be returned to face trial for his crimes against his homeland.

Suddenly, conveniently, he is killed in a car accident--the body badly burned. There are some who wonder if the body really was that of the dictator, but the press releases assure the public it was him.

That night, you once again forget something at work, so after dinner, you drive back to the clinic to pick it up. The men in the black ski masks had already replaced the dictator's dental records--seemed some were nervous about a potential invesitigation--and it's just tragically bad timing that you've seen them.

They can't kill you in the office--too suspicious--but you do get many positive mentions in the press when your "suicide" is announced the next day.

I've got to go now--I'm late for happy hour.