Opining on the expense of dental procedures in yesterday’s post, Christopher over at Border Wars referenced the luxurious appearance of Alameda East’s new facility (the hospital of Emergency Vets fame), he wrote:

“The posh re-design of the building (nicer than most new hospitals, a large wall fountain, modern architecture) didn't help the impression of being bled.”

Yeah, I hear that. I feel it every time I go to my son’s orthodontist: wood floors, granite counters, high tech gadgets and computers of all sorts, fancy matching scrubs for all of the twenty-five staff members in his employ—not to mention the $150,000(!) Porsche in his covered parking spot.

Sure, the guy has a great reputation and he knows how to run a tight ship—but hearing all the bells and whistles go off simultaneously is enough to make even the least jaded among us wonder whether we’re paying too much for his services.

I don’t need those fancy cushions and custom blinds and the Mont Blanc pen to sign in with. I need metal on my kid’s teeth and I need to be able to afford all those impressions and cementings and whatever else his teeth need.

Same is true of vets, of course. Though I understand that no one prefers to go to a dinky hospital (with small spaces, forty year-old furniture and tile floors that have seen better days) over an Alameda East, extremes of luxury can leave a bad impression, too, right?

I ask in part because my place of work resembles the former establishment. It is decidedly un Alameda-ish. And yes, I’m jealous. I want a pretty place to toil in as much as I want my clients to feel comfortable there. And yes, it’s a constant source of irritation, all this inefficient use of too little space and clutter of a pre-computer age. But moving is out of the question and there’s no way to renovate without closing the hospital down for a while (and that’s not a good thing to do to any business).

Still, I expect that someday I will be practicing in a different environment. Whether it’s mine or someone else’s, I want to be able to strike the right balance between what is economical and what is comfortable not only for cost-cutting’s sake, but because it’s a little unseemly, I think, to be dripping with luxury.

But that doesn’t mean I begrudge my son’s orthodontist his financial success. In addition to the expensive accoutrements in view, I can also guess how much he spends on training seminars for his techs (I’ve asked how often they go and I see how often they close their doors for them). So I don’t mind too much when I see expensive flat-screen TVs in every exam room instead of small screens which would just as easily distract the kids.

It’s still a tad disconcerting—and maybe I’m just being catty here—that the aforementioned vehicle is always parked front and center when you walk into the building. Perhaps he should at least consider parking it a little less conspicuously. But then, maybe there will always be those clients who prefer to be treated by a rich, successful doc. Mo money is mo better in many ways they might well believe. Oh well, it takes all kinds.