We have been trying, of late, to break our habit of being maximizers. This tendency causes people to, when faced with a decision—be it small or life changing—consider absolutely every possibility to be sure that the final choice is the absolute best possible one and and will assure one's perfect happiness.
At least, given any time constraints. If you'd had more time, of course you might have found an even better option.
But according to people who study happiness, this tendency does not make one happier. In a perverse irony, the happiest people are satisficers. These are individuals who analyze their choices but who are able to peacefully come to a decision without having to excruciatingly examine every possible choice or scenario ‘til death do take the decision from their hands.
I say we have this maximizing problem, but really the issue is mine, and the Hero unfortunately gets dragged along. When at the grocery store, he does not feel compelled to look over every single container of blueberries, or every last bulb of garlic, to find the perfect one. He goes off to locate seventeen items and cheerfully returns with all of them—plus a few others—while I am still scouting around to make sure that there is no other, hidden bin of garlic I need to check out before I make my final selection.
This new resolve to be satisfied with something that is good enough has been sorely tested during our effort to find a place to stay during our upcoming trip to New Orleans. The number of reviews of lodgings on Trip Advisor is staggering, seemingly greater than the total traveling population in the US. And I have to read every one.
Fortunately, some of the reviews help us make rather quick decisions to not stay at a particular place. For example, of a small inn one person wrote, "It's a nice place, as long as you're not a jerk about every little thing."
We pondered what this might mean, what might qualify as "every little thing" and "jerk." You smile when an army of roaches marches through your bedroom? You don't run screaming when you notice mold several inches thick in the shower? You don't rant and rave that the bath towels seem to be held together with string, or perhaps hair?
In that case, we're sorry to admit it, but we just might be jerks.
At least, given any time constraints. If you'd had more time, of course you might have found an even better option.
But according to people who study happiness, this tendency does not make one happier. In a perverse irony, the happiest people are satisficers. These are individuals who analyze their choices but who are able to peacefully come to a decision without having to excruciatingly examine every possible choice or scenario ‘til death do take the decision from their hands.
I say we have this maximizing problem, but really the issue is mine, and the Hero unfortunately gets dragged along. When at the grocery store, he does not feel compelled to look over every single container of blueberries, or every last bulb of garlic, to find the perfect one. He goes off to locate seventeen items and cheerfully returns with all of them—plus a few others—while I am still scouting around to make sure that there is no other, hidden bin of garlic I need to check out before I make my final selection.
This new resolve to be satisfied with something that is good enough has been sorely tested during our effort to find a place to stay during our upcoming trip to New Orleans. The number of reviews of lodgings on Trip Advisor is staggering, seemingly greater than the total traveling population in the US. And I have to read every one.
Fortunately, some of the reviews help us make rather quick decisions to not stay at a particular place. For example, of a small inn one person wrote, "It's a nice place, as long as you're not a jerk about every little thing."
We pondered what this might mean, what might qualify as "every little thing" and "jerk." You smile when an army of roaches marches through your bedroom? You don't run screaming when you notice mold several inches thick in the shower? You don't rant and rave that the bath towels seem to be held together with string, or perhaps hair?
In that case, we're sorry to admit it, but we just might be jerks.
A lodger at another establishment noted that her gallant husband slew four roaches in their room the first day. I am mystified that there was a second day. And a third and a fourth. I can only conclude that these people, unlike us, are not jerks.
At this point in our search, the Hero made a unilateral decision—albeit one wholeheartedly supported by me—to seek lodging at a hotel rather than an inn or a bed and breakfast. "One with at least 95 floors," he announced. “We'll stay on the top floor, and any roaches that might be thinking of invading will be too exhausted by the thought of climbing that high to even attempt it."
Another trend we noticed in the reviews was the rather close quarters in many inns. One person, for example, noted that the small space did not allow "room for immensities." I imagine not.
A traveler further noted that "the two of us couldn't both fit in the room at the same time." Did they draw straws to see who would get to sleep inside the room? Or maybe they just meant the two of them plus the roaches couldn't fit at the same time.
But there I go, being a jerk again.
At this point in our search, the Hero made a unilateral decision—albeit one wholeheartedly supported by me—to seek lodging at a hotel rather than an inn or a bed and breakfast. "One with at least 95 floors," he announced. “We'll stay on the top floor, and any roaches that might be thinking of invading will be too exhausted by the thought of climbing that high to even attempt it."
Another trend we noticed in the reviews was the rather close quarters in many inns. One person, for example, noted that the small space did not allow "room for immensities." I imagine not.
A traveler further noted that "the two of us couldn't both fit in the room at the same time." Did they draw straws to see who would get to sleep inside the room? Or maybe they just meant the two of them plus the roaches couldn't fit at the same time.
But there I go, being a jerk again.
No comments:
Post a Comment