I just don't get also why DENTISTS of all people are so excited to create less work for themselves.
Ah, yes. I remember my first trip to the dentist-man. Why, it must have been nine-score metric yearlings ago now (a measurement that made more sense back then, when everyone was young because old people had been banned). After what seemed like an eternity, but was later revealed to just have been a rather long time, sitting uncomfortably on a large Tongan man in the waiting room, the Toothmeister - that's what he made us call him, you see - finally announced my name.
I was led through a cavernous pipeline lined with rusting wooden floorboards until we came upon an dark, abandoned theatre. A profile from the rafters lit up the only object on the stage: The chair.
The chair was twisted trainwreck of metal gears and levers, the machinery not quite hidden under the poorly stitched rabbit-hide furnishings. I sat uncomfortably and waited for the examination to begin.
Clunk!
As if by some arcane magic the chair flew to life and threw me upon my back, the metal teeth grinding beneath me at the behest of my captor and interrogator.
"Do you eat candy?"
The question, though not entirely unexpected, was delivered with such force as to throw me off guard. "Wha--huh?" I stammered.
"Do. You. Eat. Candy? Answer me, child!"
"Uh...yes sir. Occasionally, sir," I lied, "and I always brush my teeth after, honest!"
"You occasionally eat candy, do you? Well, we'll have to change that!"
"No sir!" I cried, "Not the candy! Please don't stop me from eating candy, it is ever such a delectable treat! Oh, I'll do anything, just let me eat my candy..."
The Toothmeister cackled, "Foolish child! You must not stop eating candy. You must eat MORE candy! Candy for breakfast; candy for lunch; candy for dinner! And forget about brushing your teeth - such wasteful behaviour, I'll not tolerate it! From now on you will clean your teeth by gargling soda, and soda only."
"Honest truth, sir? I can eat candy and gargle soda and nothing bad will happen to my teeth?"
"Of course not," the Toothmeister replied, "follow my rules and your teeth will be healthy to the day you die! Why ever would I lie to such a charming boy as yourself?"
I certainly couldn't think of a reason, and he was such a kind man that I bade him well and set off on my way with a gracious, "Thankyou sir!"
"No trouble, my child!" he hollered after me, "Dont forget to make an appointment with my secretary on the way out...say, for the twentieth anniversary of your birth? And bring a chequebook - I have a
big surprise for you!"
And on my way I went, following a convenient trail of barley sugars back to the entrance while the maniacal laughter of the Toothmeister faded off behind me.
There is so much rust in the older pipes, that 16 inch mains are only at half capacity. It was very common to knock off huge chunks of rust while working on/replacing pipes. There are still many asbestos pipes remaining, not that it hurts you when its wet, but they are there. Then once we finished we would toss some chlorine in to clean up our mess. It was not always the certified boss who did this and certainly it was not always measured to the correct amount. I have always used filtered water since that job(I am a general germaphobe) and while I am sure the filter does not do near as much as I am told or would hope, I still feel better doing it.
Not citing a conspiracy theory actually, I always found the claims nonsence but this is the one part that rings true. Honestly if that really is the only reason I find this absolutely insane! 
