I reckon there is not one single tooth in my mouth that does not have a filling, a cap, or even an implant. I have visited many dentists some good, some awful and looking back collectively they form a thread through my life. I cant think why it is but I have several tales to tell that I think some might find amusing so here goes.
Back in the 1970s I worked on the floor of The London Stock Exchange as a ‘Jobber’. This was easily the most demanding and stressful job I ever had. Making high value transactions with counterparties often involved conversations whereby close up contact was warranted so that prying ears could not ascertain the nature of any given deal. If someone had eaten garlic for lunch or had smoked a cigar say these conversations could be unpleasant, for obvious reasons. I am not sure just how the practice came about but on every ‘pitch’ on the ‘floor of the house’ several tins of ‘deltoid mints’ would be placed. Closed at the start of the day in time their contents would be consumed as those who were sensitive to the nature of their breath took advantage of the things. Who put the tins out I don’t know but every day they were there and over time I became addicted. Of course I was sensitive about my breath but they also offered a reward when stress was high. Soon I was eating the bloody things almost non stop.
So far so good at least I had sweet breath but a routine visit to the dentist revealed that tiny shards of the mints lodge in ones teeth and over time corrode the enamel and as a result cavities, lots of them. The twelve or so fillings I had, rendered my mouth a mess of amalgam so much so that perhaps 15 years later when the subject of the dangers of mercury and tooth fillings first arose the dentist I was visiting suggested I replace my existing fillings with wait for it, Gold ones. Thank good ness I am one of those people who does not show his teeth even when smiling. This turned out to be a good thing as the subsequent work i had done might have rendered me a target if some unscrupulous sort had ever witnessed the ‘Alladins cave’ that my mouth became. On occasion I would approach the mirror open wide and consider a sort of dental Fort Knox. For the record over time all but one of the gold fillings has gone. When I see lower left 4 or is it 5 a whole glut of memories are provoked.
It was two days before Christmas probably 1986 and as I ate my lunch somewhat dramatically a rear molar encountered a foreign body in my sandwich and the thing sort of snapped off leaving a painful hole. The hole hurt some what too I had a very bad feeling that many will recognise. What to do?
At the time i was working for UBS in New York trying to make sense, and failing, of all things Swiss. I ran a department and I actually had a high rank of which you can read about the absurdities linked to it elsewhere. I had a magnificent glass office overlooking The Waldorf Astoria as my rank demanded. I almost never went in it though as my job was on the trading floor I supervised. The local HR department was run by possibly the most intimidating woman I have ever met-more later. She was of course Swiss and whilst I cant remember her name it was definitely of German roots and slightly menacing-Elsa come to mind. This woman had told me in no uncertain terms of my duties and ‘privileges’ of being a First Vice President when I first met her. Yes I ‘had’ to fly first class and stay in only the best hotels. I had a budget for artworks in our area of the office and I must have a ‘secretary’! I use secretary because that is what people called ‘assistants’ or what ever back in the day. My monthly reports were short, I seldom staged formal meetings and I almost never had the need to write letters. All central travel arrangements etc. were made by a discreet department. My objections fell on deaf ears and one day I was asked to interview a short list of three women. The woman I chose was Italian American. She was very stylish in her appearance and the HR department told me she was excellent at her job. I am sure she was but I had nothing for her to do. Occasionally I would have a a chat with her and she told me about her father who was a marble mason. He would only speak his native tongue in the house as would all the family. He cooked all the meals and was given to singing opera as he concocted his families daily feasts. Everyone who visited my office either from overseas or locally seemingly appeared to envy my choice and some how I have to admit it did increase my cred. But as I said I had nothing for her to do but a twist in the tale was to come.
Donna Musolini was recommended to me by a senior member of a rival US Investment Bank. She had apparently formed all sorts of unofficial committees and discussion groups for both buy and sell side in the booming Global equity markets North America in the 1980s. She knew all the clients all the players. Not thinking the thing through and in my busy life failing to do due diligence I gave her a job. She did know everyone, they knew her. However no one seemed to want to do business with her and she was a toxic force in our office as she offered opinions and demonstrated a clear lack of understanding of the nature of the business on a daily basis. I have to report she even got into a fist fight with a fellow worker which delighted those who attended the evening ‘bar debrief’ squad but was an utter nightmare to me as I had to ‘separate them and sit them as far apart as possible. It was not all bad news however because one day she asked to se me in my office. I was pleased to use the thing so I sat down and asked how I could help. I want to produce a daily news paper about foreign markets she announced. I was tempted to remark that Reuters probably had that particular base covered but I agreed to let her have a trial run. One of the benefits of the whole idea was the fact that my delightful secretary would have something to do. The daily document was almost farcical. One of my Swiss team decided to make a regular contribution although his content rivalled the absurdities of some of Donna’s observations. The trading team found the whole thing highly entertaining and corralled trading desks all over the USA to go on the daily list of recipients of the faxes sent out. To give an example it would say things like, “In the GB market Shell Oil have gone up 2 pence which represents 0.2 % of the value of the company. No more no less pages of the stuff. Apparently people would actually read it not to be informed but to have a laugh!! The production line took on new proportions. We ordered two new Fax machines and normal by 2pm!! The daily newsletter would hit the wires. Long after all the European markets had closed. I realised once and for all just how useless the thing was when the ‘esteemed’ President of the bank asked to be added to the circulation list. Once Donna had finished her work she would head off to lunch at some expensive restaurant in order to arrange some conference or other which few would attend. Om my days!
What happened next could have been my undoing. I can honestly say that all my working life I was a supporter of women in the workplace. I am sure I was given to making the odd comment that today would be unacceptable but I never did so willingly. There I was, somehow persuaded by Donna to attend a conference in Los Angeles where I would be par of s ‘panel’ who answered questions on the Global Investing scene. At 33000ft on very tired Pan American 747, in First Class of call with Donna enjoying the privilage of accompanying her ‘boss’ in luxury. Even here Donna managed to irritate cabin crew and with a glass or two of Californian white down my neck i questioned Donna as to her future. Not quite sure what I said but i did inform her that what she was doing in my team was not as intended and I probably asked questions as to her intentions regarding he private life that was out of order. You know something like ‘would you ever want to go back to Milwaukie (where she came from) and start a family’. bang out of order I know but honestly it was well intended.
Thankfully we returned to New York separately. She was not in the office on The Monday morning which no one really noticed and on the Tuesday that I was summoned to the fearsome woman in the HR department. ‘Sit Down Mr Elliott’ she ordered. Elsa was dressed in thigh length leather boots over black pants as were a fashion of the day. She had a leather waistcoat on and her hair was scraped back in a bob. I knew something was up as she summoned a colleague who appeared with a note pad and proceeded to scribble away in short hand as we spoke.
‘Donna Mussolini’ has reported you for making ‘inappropriate remarks’ she announced. ‘What ever you do if any one asks you about the conversation deny it took place ,is that clear”? Yes” i mumbled. She then informed me that ‘my file’ would have a comment placed on it that reflected the fact that she, Elsa, and I had had a conversation but the subject matter would not be recorded.-How very Swiss!!.
As I stood to leave she added a further bombshell. Donna will not be coming back. No reason no more information. I never heard of the woman again perhaps the Swiss had paid her off. What ever I was in truth overjoyed but as a result my delightful secretary was back on the unemployed list again.
With this as a back drop when my tooth fell out I asked her to tray and get me an appointment. I knew it would be tough but my tooth was hurting by now. About a half an hour later she literally ran up to my desk clutching a piece of paper with an address in the most upmarket street in the City overlooking Central Park not 3 blocks from where John Lennon was killed. The Dentists surgery was amazing. Life size pictures of celebrities adorned the walls and ‘the man himself’ with a perfect smile was in pride of place behind the receptionist desk. I later found out he was the dentist to the stars and he even had a regular TV show which was a mix of the best in dental cometic surgery linked to celebrity of the day.
Two hours later I emerged from the chair with a new crown, that I think I still have. I now need to tell you the bad news the cost (ingrained in my mind) was $2,200! My secretary was desperate to know if I was pleased with her arrangements. Of course I said yes.
Only last month I was in the chair of my local dentist. He is a Sri Lankan by birth, trained a Guys, so very good and he has every single gadget and piece of equipment known to man. He is as a result very expensive. I was having my annual inspection when he asked me how many units of alcohol I drank a week. A question i hate because a,I drink far too much B, I never count units and c, why does no-one ever ask ‘how many units of exercise do you take’?-surely relevant.
My repost was to ask the dental nurse as to how much a unit was and how much did she drink, just for reference. She revealed that Thursday and Friday were ‘girls night out’. ‘I usually drink a bottle of wine before I go out, sometimes Prosecco’. ‘I meet up with my friends and have a couple of gins and according to what happens a number of shots.’ ‘Sometimes a lot of shots’ Saturday was a different pattern with alcohol staring at lunchtime and often going into the early hours, lots of it. Sunday, a day of recovery, would often involve a pub lunch or a glass of wine in the evening with a friend. I have no idea exactly what this amounts to in terms of units but she accepted a number of 70 plus almost with a look of triumph. My dentist was either embarrassed at what he had heard or he felt left out as he ‘confessed to a large whisky every evening to help him relax. AT the weekend he would take his wife out to dinner or else drink both whisky and wine at home. he seemed happy when I estimated a number of 40 plus for him. The atmosphere was electric as he repeated to me is request for information from me. I cant believe I did this but with a straight face I announced 14!
Tales of a Life Well Lived 