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David Bly: An occupation is about more than a salary

The remark tossed to a colleague — “I’m off to be tortured, then robbed” — was announcing a trip to the dentist. A bit of glib humour, perhaps, but unfair and untrue, if taken literally.

VKA-BLY-5181.jpgThe remark tossed to a colleague — “I’m off to be tortured, then robbed” — was announcing a trip to the dentist. A bit of glib humour, perhaps, but unfair and untrue, if taken literally.

Dentistry is one of those professions we like to poke at and joke about, perhaps because we resent having to endure the discomfort of a dentist’s chair, having all sorts of objects thrust into the mouth and then paying for the privilege.

As I was pondering these points, trying to breathe, wondering when I could scratch my nose, hoping I wouldn’t get a cramp in my leg, wishing it would soon be over, it suddenly occurred to me the dentist was probably thinking those same thoughts.

When it was done, I had a new crown that fit perfectly and felt good. I walked out of the office relaxed and relieved, almost euphoric. The dentist was already hunched over the next patient and it was only 8:30 a.m. I didn’t want to be him. His is not an easy job — it requires the right blend of medical, engineering, artistic and people skills. Besides that, it’s physically demanding — repetitive strain injuries are common among dentists.

We sometimes judge professions and occupations from the outside looking in, seeing what we think of as big paycheques for little work.

Schoolteachers hear that all the time: good pay, short hours and all that time off. I know a little more about teaching than I do dentistry, and I know it’s hard work, based on a year of teaching college journalism.

Those college students paid for the privilege of being there. They were interested in starting careers. They had been screened for suitability for the program they were in. They posed no discipline problems, there were no special-needs students and I didn’t have to do any parent-teacher interviews. Compared to teaching elementary school, or junior or senior high classes, it was light work.

Hats off to teachers.

So let’s pick on plumbers. Or not.

The dentist and I had a conversation about how we see others’ occupations. He needed a plumber and was shocked by the estimate, so he got a second opinion, which was even higher.

I think there’s more myth than truth to how much plumbers make, but how much would you charge to unplug someone’s toilet? How much is it worth to have faucets and drains that work perfectly? How much will it cost you if they don’t?

Years ago, I set out on a project that was supposed to be a minor repair to a kitchen faucet. Old house, old plumbing, huge problems. It involved all my spare time for three weeks. As I was trying to get the last piece of plumbing connected at four o’clock one morning, I was fervently wishing I had called a plumber, who probably could have done the whole project in a few hours, and would have done it better. You get what you pay for.

Hats off to plumbers.

Sometimes medicine is portrayed as a highly paid, glamorous profession. Spend a few hours in the emergency department waiting room at Vic General or the Royal Jubilee some Saturday night. It makes you appreciate what you don’t have. Not much glamour there.

Hats off to doctors.

I felled a tree once. It was a small, dead tree, but not as small as I thought. It took out a section of fence on its way down, and I realized it had enough mass to cause serious injury if I had got in the way.

Our friends in Metchosin needed a couple of big trees removed. They were not tree neophytes, as their acreage is a forest, but they called in an expert for the big ones, and then watched in awe as he worked. Suffice it to say, it was far more complex than simply applying a chainsaw to a trunk.

Hats off to arborists.

Ditch-digging has become a metaphor for all exhausting manual work, what you do if you don’t get an education, but I knew a ditch-digger who loved his work and took pride in it. He was a sturdy little man who took over in tight spots that trenching machines couldn’t reach. He was precise, clean and fast; his ditches were works of art.

Hats off to ditch-diggers, and to all those who take pride in doing a good job of what they do, whatever they do. In so many cases, the value of their work goes far beyond the money they are paid.

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