I just found a new dentist, after using the same dentist in Raleigh for a decade. (I wrote why I was leaving my old dentist here.). My old dentist has a state-of-the-art facility. Everything from the potpourri in the waiting room, to there wifi, to the TVs above the dental chairs, to the in-house crown printing device are shiny, polished and new.
I must admit, the environment was pretty spectacular – it’s like a high-end spa. But, just like a high-end spa, you have to pay for it.
My new dentist runs a less polished operation. It’s just him, a receptionist and a few hygienists. They have 90’s music streaming in the background. The dating room is basic with a few magazines and chairs. The dental equipment appears to be relatively current, but not quite as new as my former dentist had.
And you know what? I like it better.
The hygienist was fine. She cleaned my teeth, asked questions, listened attentively and worked efficiently. The dentist was great. He examined my teeth and gave me solid advice regarding my suspected cracked molar. He was realistic and conservative. I never once felt like I was being “sold” or pushed to upgrade to unnecessary, expensive treatments.
If all goes well, I won’t need to see him or the endodontist until my next cleaning appointment. I really liked that – but that’s not why I liked this dentist better.
I fit in here.
At heart, I’m a blue collar, low key guy. I’ve never been to a high end spa. I don’t eat at super expensive high end restaurants. I prefer laid back vacations in quiet beach towns and lakeside resorts vs. 5 star hotels with top tier entertainment.
Sure, I’ve eaten at high end restaurants, stayed in higher end Hiltons and Marriott, been upgraded to First Class a few times and lived in SouthEast Florida where I could (theoretically) rub elbows with the ultra wealthy.
I can pass in those environments. I know how to behave. I can don a suit and clean up nicely. I know how to socialize with just about anyone.
But that’s not where I belong.
This past week, my pool has been closed because the heater is broken. I’ve had to travel through Raleigh’s downtown to visit a backup pool. It’s very interesting to leave my manicured suburb with perfect streets, buried utility cables, manicured lawns and all new construction.
The streets I pass through range from “old money Inside the Beltway” streets with mini-plantation home covered in ivy and ornate brickwork to run down, ramshackle college student rental homes that look one set away from being condemned. The old streets are narrow, winding, and full of cracks and potholes. It’s like entering a different world.
But I like that world too. As I drive through the inner city, I see that Raleigh is really a small town. It’s got that small town vibe – walkable, a bit diverse, commercial mixed in with residential. Some of the landmarks I’ve only previously read about seem small and rinky-dink in person.
I have no interest in moving Inside-the-Beltway. I don’t want to deal with being near NC State student housing, limited parking, homeless people and crime. It wouldn’t’t make sense to pay the price premium to be able to walk to town, restaurants and bars.
I like my life the way it is today.
But it is intriguing to think that if I ever want to live in a small town, that I’m already there. I might not need to move to a different city, just a different neighborhood.