I remember hearing once about an experiment in behavioral economics. I wish I could remember the details of how the experiment was constructed, but the "big picture" was that a person making a purchase is told at the checkout that the item they're buying is on sale for $5 less at a location down the street. Would they like to be rung up or walk a couple hundred yards to save 5 bucks?
It turns out that the answer is: it depends. On what? The price of the item being purchased. If it costs $10, most people will incur the inconvenience associated with walking down the street to a different store in order to save $5. If, however, the item costs $200, almost everyone says, "Ring me up now!" It doesn't seem as if this result is in accord with the dictates of reason. By the dictates of reason, the price of the item being purchased shouldn't matter, right? Five dollars is five dollars, one more than 4 and one less than 6, and the question is whether it's worth the walk to have that much more money. But evidently that's not the way most people think about it.
Maybe "think" is the wrong verb. One plausible explanation for the observed behavior would be that it's emotionally satisfying to save a high percentage of the purchase price and that, as the ratio of savings to cost decreases, the emotional compensation evaporates. Whatever the explanation, this social science phenomenon probably helps explain the experience you have while, for example, buying a new car. When spending tens of thousands of dollars, you're susceptible to buying a bunch of shit you don't need for a hundred or a thousand more, and the people at the dealership know it. That's why they have all these products and options and insurance you don't need. They talk to you about it as if only a lowlife would decline these incredible offers.
I tend to think of myself as being too rational to fall for these ruses, or even to feel the attraction of arguments that have their source in the brain stem rather than the brain. On Monday of this week, however, I spent most of the day sitting in the service department of the Honda dealership, where I'd gone to get an oil change. I'd also noticed that the low tire pressure indicator had come on and, while the tires looked and felt fine to me, the light remained on when the weather changed. So I mentioned that, even though they'd have noticed anyway. Well, you can guess what happened. There was a nail in one of the tires, unrepairable on account of the location. Did I want two new tires or four? The tread depth, they said, was down to between 4- and 5-32nds, which I did not doubt, so I got four. When they got the tires off, they noticed, what they hadn't detected before—brake work needed! (They'd already pointed out that the cabin filter was filthy and the wiper blades worn and streaking.) All the work being done extended my stay over the noon hour, so I walked to a nearby Chipotle for lunch. Would I like guacamole on my burrito bowl? I always say no but hell if I'm going to deny myself guac for $2.25 extra while dropping a grand a half block up the street! On the way home in my fully serviced vehicle, I stopped for groceries and bought everything that looked good. Despite the full pantry, when the kids got home I told them we were going out for supper to our favorite neighborhood joint, and instead of having one tall boy I had two glasses of the house red.
Back to being a tightwad today, however. Practically have no choice.
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