It was a classic case of the Michigan Avenue dentist.I spotted the fancy furniture in the lobby, and couldn't miss the wall-sized oil paintings and abstract sculptural pieces in the waiting room. Even the reception desk was spectacular.
I should have known it would be all about money.
Sitting down in the premium leather luxury reclining dental chair, I prepared myself for the usual recitations on flossing, and not brushing my teeth so hard. That I can handle. Lecture me all you want, I am still working on my flossing habit, or lackthereof, and can totally take it.
What I wasn't prepared for was the onslaught of upsell. First, the dentist suggested I get the laser teeth whitening. Then he frowned, and poked around in my mouth, only to mention that "to fix this mess in here, I think you may need Invisalign."
Uhm. Hold up.
"This mess" in here? Are we talking about the same smile that is a result of two years and thousands of dollars in 1989? Yes, I wore braces, buddy, and do NOT plan to go back there again. Taking note of the photo below, would you?!?! I know, the bangs are a bit distracting.
To this day, I have one stinking crooked-ish tooth on the bottom row, and I quite like the character it gives my face. As for the miniscule space between my front teeth, I was thinking that wearing a retainer at night would do the trick.
"But a retainer is supposed to just keep things in place, not fix major dental issues."
WHAT major dental issues? Are we seeing the same set of pearly whites? My teeth aren't exactly "summer teeth—you know, summer here and summer there." They're not just creating a smile only a mother could love. My smile happens to be the thing that I get compliments on the most. And, yes, my teeth are pretty damn white, mind you. Thanks to good genes and a little home whitening, I'm okay with it. It's not like they still look like this:
I mean me, not the pumpkin. Although he could use a little dental work...
As for the appointment, I hated every minute of it. After he led in the child-prodigy of an orthodontist who proceeded to further demolish my self-esteem, suggesting a full set of braces to correct the slippage of my once-precious teeth, I was fuming.
Steam coming out my ears mad. I was more angry at myself for letting them get to me.
Swinging my stilleto boots off the dental chair, and placing them firmly on the imported travertine tile, I realized what we had here was a scam. A game to make women feel less beautiful, and more "broken" in order to cross-sell the revenue-generating products and services. Those that AREN'T covered by insurance.
Hey Doctor—I work in marketing, and spent four years at a healthcare agency. I know your game.
So, with a flip of the hair, I'm taking this smile outside onto Michigan Avenue, back to work and to my computer where I'll research a new dentist. One whose waiting room furniture is totally paid for, and he actually practices ethical patient care.
This was a year ago. I put off finding a new dentist for so long that finally I caved and made an appointment for a cleaning at this jerk's office again. It is today at 2:00 pm. But, if he even THINKS about insulting my dental status, I'll set him straight.
Kindof like my teeth.
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