Technology gave us a myriad of almost-equal choices. So how are we to decide?
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Version 0 of 1. There comes a point in the proliferation of choice when, for the average chooser, paralysis sets in – the kind of blinking, slack-jawed confusion of someone lately emerged from a cave. For example: this week I needed diapers in a hurry. The cheapest are from Costco, but Costco only delivers at in-store prices via Google Express. The problem with Google Express (which costs $95 a year) is that it only delivers dry goods, so you also need Instacart (which costs $99 a year for unlimited deliveries, but not at in-store prices), otherwise it’s Diapers.com, which is Amazon by another name, or you could use the voucher stuck to your fridge door and try Peapod, except that it expired two weeks ago (along with half the contents of your fridge). Related: The only thing worse than never having a choice is always having to choose | Oliver Burkeman The narrower the margins between comparable services, the harder the paralysis hits. Many Americans grew up with hundreds of television channels, while Brits 35 and older remember a time with just three. But in both cases, the choice was passive: a question of paging through screens until a show snagged your interest. The choices that now govern our most basic needs – how to get from A to B; how to buy groceries; how to watch TV – raise maths problems worthy of the Singapore school system. To wit: if Betty wants to watch Mad Men and seasons 1-6 of The Good Wife, and Joe wants to watch Breaking Bad plus old episodes of the Sopranos, should they (a) subscribe to Netflix (b) subscribe to HuluPlus and Netflix, buying anything not covered by those two services from Amazon Instant (3) read a book (4) take time out from watching TV to address the serious issues in their marriage, including but not limited to the fact that they don’t like any of the same things (5) consider the possibility that Joe’s interest in “old episodes of the Sopranos” is a Trojan horse for getting HBO Now – with its soft porn “adult only” content – into the house right under Betty’s nose? I would suggest that Betty and Joe go outside and get a life, but unfortunately that doesn’t solve the problem. On the street yesterday, I ran into my neighbour, who was standing on the corner, peering at her phone trying to decide which ride service to use. In New York, Via is the cheapest at a fixed rate of $5 per ride, but only operates in Manhattan, above 14th Street. Uber is the most convenient, but is subject to notorious price surges. Lyft can be great, I gather, unless you don’t feel like talking. GoGreenRide: who knows? Meanwhile, cabs with their vacancy lights on sailed passed. Behind all of this dithering is the fiction that, by applying ourselves with sufficient force to the internet, we can somehow beat the system. There it is, just out of reach like Gatsby’s green light: the perfect combination of premium subscription services, loyalty card and bulk buy discounts, and free stuff from Craigslist that will allow us to live our best lives at the lowest price. These digital services are supposed to make life easier – and, to the extent that you can now order almost anything with one hand while holding a baby with the other, they are. But the cost is one of clarity, and the peace of mind that comes with understanding, precisely, the implications of what one is buying. Without that, most retail is reduced to the baffling level of a Time Warner Cable bill. Eventually, you give up. I stood chatting to my neighbour for a few minutes, during which time she asked me to download various ride share apps so she could get the $10 gift voucher. Then she put away her phone. “Which one did you order?” I asked and she shrugged. “I’m taking the subway.” |