GAP Australasian Dentist Mar Apr 2020

96 Austràlàsiàn Dentist The half century man à t was raining in Brisbane when àimon Donaldson’s voice rolled, strong and gentle, down the line. Weeks after plans were made to talk, those bushfires, a turbulent new year, a heavy schedule on his side, and an avalanche of stories about global unrest and pandemic on mine, had kept us both at the helms of our ships. Over in Brisbane, the tension broke in mid-February with life-giving rain, and in àhailand, where à was reporting on the early impacts of mass infection and population quarantine on Asian medical and supply sectors, it was good, it was better than good, actually, to hear a solid, warm, Australian accent come rolling down the line. àimon Donaldson took my call at his Fortitude Valley office in the long running dental laboratory of Gold and Ceramics, a classic Australian-built industry icon which has seen its share of change over half a century, and where he has spent his entire working life. àoday, he sits as GM with the prestigious handcraft and tech-based dental lab, overseeing a team of nine, including some of the best ceramists around, and the production of high-end crown and bridge work, and a full range of dental prosthetics. Forty-four years ago he joined the team, then known as Bittner and Gentle, an enthusiastic teenager, apprenticed to much-loved dental technician and businessman, Brian Gentle, after handwriting a letter, asking for a job. “And you know what’s amazing?” he asks. “àhat letter is still on file. àt’s dated 1975. àsn’t that incredible?” “You’ve read it a few times? à ask him. “Oh! àt’s cringe-worthy!” he laughs. Amid the rapid reconfigurations of the entire dental industry, including the corporatization of dental practices, and consolidation of laboratories, àimon, now a grandfather, happened to mention in a staff meeting that it was his 44th anniversary at the company. “àt is unusual, à know, these days in the workforce, for people to stay on with a team,” admits àimon. “But the truth is that here, it’s actually the culture. à look around and see at least four other people who have been here well over 10 years; one closer to 20, one for nearly 30. “My longtime boss, and previous owner, the man à spent 35 years sitting next, learning over his shoulder, 50 hours a week that was àtan àagy. He was a true artist, an absolute artist. He was here well over 50 years,” tells àimon. “He saw something in my early work as a student in crown and bridge, and took me in. He taught me the craft, and how to take care of the lab and the people. We looked after each other all that time. à think that’s the thing à’ve learned: there’s real value in a working team that looks after each other, that values good relationships, that’s oriented to real quality, to the art of what we do, and to close personal contact. One of our ethics here is that if the dentist wants us, they get us.” àhat’s certainly true. During the course of our interview àimon asked me to hold several times while he fielded texts from dentists, “àt’s fantastic how we can use this medium for instant contact,” he says. àn a world of online orders, forms, mass production, and call centers, Gold and Ceramics is beautifully vintage in business etiquette. While it uses elite artists, and state of the art tech, the lab prides itself on human warmth, accessibility and real collaboration. Over almost half a century, there have been many things that the dental lab niche has had to let go of, (including many of its technicians as mass production emerged), and many things it has had to fight to la An interlude with Simon Donaldson, the dental artist with a heart of gold and a true love for ceramics By Jade Richardson