Waiter Sam Follet apparently had some jacked up teeth from a skateboarding accident in his youth. Having this mouthful of rotten enamel and pre-existing gum disease made it very difficult for Sam to feel comfortable smiling at his job at the Original Pancake House where he is a server. Although all of his customers think he is great, they all noticed that he very seldom smiled. The shame of bad teeth kept him from doing it. Sam, I understand. I too have some less than perfect teeth.
One time I went to meet an agent about the possibility of working with her. As soon as I sat in her office, she looked at my head shot and said, "Have you ever thought about having your teeth done?"
Taken back by the instantaneous criticism, I said, "Well, yes, that would be ideal but it's so expensive. Maybe after I book my first commercial, I can use some of that money to get them straightened." I laughed, embarrassed.
"Don't get me wrong," she said. "You'll never be a Cary Grant but even the wacky next-door neighbor on a sitcom is all put together." As she said "put together," she waved her hand in a circular motion around her mouth indicating, I guess, that she was in fact "put together" as opposed to me who looked like a Quasimodo Bitch with Bad Teeth. She did not ask me to sign with her and to this day, I have never felt so hurt by this business we call show. I will never forget her name but I will not be so low as to state it on this website (Renee Glicker. Renee Glicker. You know she has a Google alert set for herself. Renee Glicker. I don't like you.)
The point is, Sam, I feel you, buddy! Well, one day a cosmetic dentist was in Sam's station and was blown away by Sam's ability to carry three plates of shortstacks, five hash browns and two sides of bacon to the table but was curious as to why he wasn't flashing some pearly whites while doing it. Once the dentist got all up in Sam's personal business, he offered to fix Sam's teeth for him at no charge. What the hell? Why can't that happen to me? I want new teeth, Mr. Cosmetic Dentist. If you come to my station, I promise I will never ever crack a smile at you. I want new teeth so badly that I even wrote to The View one time telling them if they ever do a story on cosmetic dentistry, could I be the one who gets the new teeth? Desperate times call for desperate measures and I can think of nothing more desperate than writing an email to Barbara fucking Walters and asking her to give me new teeth.
Now Sam has a mouthful of perfect and he smiles all the time. According to the news article, he is even taking on more responsibility at the Pancake House. I like how when they say that line, they show Sam mopping the floor. Yeah, great editing there.
Attention cosmetic dentists: please come sit in my station. I will not smile at you and then you can give me some new teeth. If there are no dentists around, I will also take an Apple computer rep who can give me an iPad, a contractor who will re-do my bathroom for free or the president of Ketel One who can give me a lifetime supply of my favorite beverage. Basically, all I want is what's coming to me. All I want is my fair share. I never smile at work. What can I get for that?
(Bonus points to anyone who can tell me what musical the title for this blog came from.)