Drowning in choice

So, we're already four days into the new year. Have you made any choices?
For most of us in the West, that is perilously close to an absurd
question. As Dr. Richard Swenson points out in ”The Overload Syndrome,” most of us are drowning in choice,
muddying up the water as we thrash around in an unseemly manner, headed under for the third time.

Who hasn't sat down at the dinner table recently, only to be verbally
assaulted by a telephone salesperson insisting they have the "right
choice" for us in long distance? They want 10 or 15 minutes of my
time, spent evaluating a decision they have purposely made needlessly
complex -- which, if I am fortunate enough to choose the right curtain --
might save me two dollars a month. Goodbye.

On the other hand, maybe that call was just to toughen me up. Have you
been to the supermarket lately? I buy about three different kinds of
breakfast cereal. Yet the boxes never seem to be in the same place on the
shelves that I remember from last time. As a result, I get to "choose"
from hundreds of brands and ingredient combinations, which if I
thoughtfully evaluated them, would take the time allotted to a week's
worth of breakfasts. All of which makes corn flakes look pretty good!

I don't know about you, but decision seems to stop me cold. Am I getting
the best product or service? There are 6,212 out there on the shelf,
but not all at the same store, and I have to be sure. Am I paying too
much? You can never compare apples to apples, of course; they all have
different bells and whistles. How about the warranty? Service? Delivery? Is it environmentally pure -- or am I contributing to a landfill's overeating
problem? The new model is out? Oh no, we have to start over!

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Perhaps choice is one of the secrets of control in a consumer-driven,
materialistic society? By paralyzing us in a sea of increasingly
irrelevant and meaningless choices, companies that manufacture and
produce all these goods and services can be reasonably sure we'll never
have a free moment to ask any really difficult or embarrassing questions.
Like, why do I need this, anyway? Is it really worth a full day of my
life, or three days every month, or taking a second job this summer?
Would my kids and wife actually be happier if I didn't buy this -- and
spent the extra time that I saved with them?

Choice. Moment by moment, day by day, our life ebbs and flows in a sea of
choices. Some are good; some not so good. The choices others would have
us concern ourselves with are all too often no choice at all: our money,
our time, and our lives are handed obediently over, while we ponder
crucial decisions like color, make, model and delivery schedule. Our
children grow up, and our spouses grow bored, while we grow old --
trapped in a make-believe, materialistic paradise -- where we are so
overwhelmed with choices that we need never confront the decisions that
really matter.

Ancient man, the Jews, the Greeks, Romans, medieval man; these seemed to
have time to pose the big questions. We don't. We've put our time and
effort into unraveling the Human Genome, yet most of us haven't decided
where we came from, and seem content to let chance decide the final
arrangement of our atoms at the final destination. Strange behavior,
isn't it, for a nation whose people value choice so highly?