Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Only a Daughter Can Get Away With That

I've started working at my dad's dental office over the summer months. Being the bosses daughter definitely has its perks, such as the whole application process. Here is how I got my job:

Setting: Driving to school one morning in April
Dad: Hey Elena, I was thinking, how would you like to work reception at the office this summer? That's what your sister did.
Me: What will you pay me Dad?
Dad: X amount of dollars an hour. You'll just be in charge of filing, and talking to patients, and basically just help with whatever needs to be done around the office. And we don't work Fridays, so you'll have weekends off.
Me: Oh okay.
Dad: Okay then.
(Both resume staring impassively out the windshield)

Forget resumes, job interviews and all that jazz. Just a drive to school is all it takes when you're a daughter.

But here's the thing, and in fact, the purpose of this blog: to maintain some sort of professionalism at the office, I'm supposed to call my dad Dr. Redd at work. That in itself is an adjustment. Every time I say it, I feel like I'm talking to someone else.

Plus most patients know I'm the dentist's kid. There are a number of ways they can know this:

A) They have known me since I was teeny-tiny. So they walk into the office, see me sitting at the front desk, and say; "Elena? Are you working here? Wow! You've gotten so big."
Then the pinching of cheeks and the cooing over how old I am and how old they feel commences.

B) Across from my desk there's a family picture hanging on the wall. Patients will wander over to take a look. They'll look at the picture, than look at me, then back at the picture.
Patient: Are you his daughter?
Me: Yes.
Patint: Is that you?
Me: Yes.
Patient: Oh.

C) My absolute favourite:
My dad is in the operatory with a new patient. I enter.
Me: Hey, I need the insurance info.
Dad: Do I have it?
Me: Yeah it's in the file I gave you.
Dad: Can you take it later?
Me: No, I need it now otherwise I can't print the insurance claim.
Patient: Are you his daughter?
Me: Yeah.
Patient: I figured. Only a daughter can get away with that.

That pretty much says it all.