Money, Pain, and New Cars

The Diminishing Analgesic Effects of Wealth

When I was 12 years old, my dad took me to the dentist to get my first cavity filled. “By the way,” he said as we walked into the office, “don’t get the novocaine — it’s $20.”

My father was a very good man — the most decent, humble person I’ve ever known. But he was so frugal and required so little material fulfillment in his own life that maybe he had trouble understanding other people’s desire for teeny-tiny luxuries like anesthesia.