Top Toad in the Pool

It is safe to say that most dental students look forward to that day when they can show a clean pair of heels to the university in which they presently sweat. Buoyed by surveys that indicate upward of 70 percent of all dentists work in solo private practices, these survivors of an eight-year indentured servitude are more than ready to shed the shackles of student life and become The Boss. If the university has done its job, altruism suffuses the student heart; and the new dentist, if asked what his or her career objectives are, would reply with feeling, "I want to work with people."

What the university fails to point out is that in spite of diva Barbra Streisand’s lyrical claim that "people who need people are the luckiest people in the world," the record shows that many people who work with people all day long are inclined after a while to regard their fellow beings with ill-disguised loathing. Observe the clerks at any big-city Department of Motor Vehicles for confirmation of this.

A more forthright career objective might be stated as "I want to do the best I can to obtain a sense of personal fulfillment by helping others. That this is best measured in U.S. dollars is irrelevant, but ask me about it later."

It seems incredible in this modern sophisticated world of corporate structures that 70 percent of dentists elect to work in solo isolation, embracing the illusion that they, as The Boss, are living the dolce vita they dreamt of as students.

A Real Boss, defined as the chairman of the board of a big corporation, actually does nothing but is paid exorbitant sums of money for just showing up occasionally to convene the board of directors so they can renew their pledges of obeisance to him. They, in turn, have two or three dozen vice presidents that kowtow to them. Subservient to that bunch are approximately 10,000 middle-management personnel. Near the base of the pyramid are the several thousand secretarial, clerical and gofer people and, finally, at the bottom of the pile is Production.

That’s why The Boss has little to do; these people are doing it for him. It is not necessary for The Boss to even know what’s being produced -- baby wipes or double-helix flanges -- it’s all the same to him.

Guess who is in charge of Production in a solo dental practice? Nobody else but our dentist/boss who stands proudly atop a pyramid of underlings consisting of a receptionist, two part-time assistants and a hygienist who may or may not come in on Thursdays.

The plumber arrives to fix the backup, the lab guy is late, a walk-in shows up at 5 p.m. with a raging toothache, and the last employable assistant on Earth departs in a huff. Those are the ones whom the dental student was really talking about when he proclaimed, "I want to work with people." Only he didn’t know it.

Yet, year after year, solo practitioners soldier on, foregoing the imported teak desk in the plush private office with the five or six layers of SS troops between The Boss and petty annoyances. When he or she eschews the bonuses, stock options and retirement funds that come with the territory, one is induced to wonder why.

Well, the people who are paid to conduct inquiries into phenomena such as this say it is a classic example of the "big frog in the little puddle" syndrome. This is not to be confused with those Budweiser commercials featuring talking frogs with tongues the length of a football field.

Having considered myself to be a 70 percent dentist, the primo frog in my own little puddle for well over 50 years, I have examined the frog/puddle analogy from every aspect to reassure myself I have not been misled.

The frog/puddle combinations, i.e., little frog/big puddle, little frog/little puddle, big frog/big puddle are, as Arte Johnson used to assert on Laugh-In years ago, "verrrry interrrresting, but schtoopid!"

In the first place, "puddle" is one of those words that, if repeated often enough, leaves you with the impression that you must have made it up. Puddle, puddle, puddle. Clearly, this is not the sort of thing you want to spend much time doing lest it indicate the early onset of something more serious.

Secondly, there simply is no satisfactory substitute for being the top toad in the pool. In this exalted position of benevolent despot, nobody tells you what to do. Instead, a support group consisting of your spouse, your kids, the IRS, various insurance entities, utility companies and an all-caring government join to protect you from accidentally following your own inclinations. Corporate America, eat your heart out!