Kalgoorlie Miner (10): Choice

Consider a situation where a friend rings and says “I’m at the pub, come down for a drink”, then hangs up without telling you which of the 30 or 40 local bars they are referring to. It would be pretty hard to find them wouldn’t it? Or would it? In reality, most of us probably only frequent a handful of trusty drinking holes.

For example I go to the Tower for drinks after work on Fridays (not during football season though, because the coach gets all sooky and unreasonable if we turn up for training legless), deBernales for Saturday night benders, and the Federal for lazy Sunday afternoons betting on Cannington dogs or Hong Kong trots or whatever other group of filthy animals happens to be running in circles at the time.

So when faced with so many choices, why is it that we drift towards the same well-beaten track? I think it’s a desire for familiarity that we all have. The quandary of these sparkling economic times though, is that as our choices increase we become less able to find the certainty and comfort that we crave.

A man living at Broad Arrow, to continue with the pub example, will be comfortable when in need of a grease-laden hamburger and an icy cold beer because he has just one place to go, but what would happen if a nightclub and a kebab shop opened over by the water tank?

Maybe he would continue to frequent the Broad Arrow, but be torn with longing to know what is going on in the flash new nightclub, or to taste one of these new-fangled Mediterranean treats. Maybe he would abandon the Broady for the new disco-dancin' souvlaki-eatin' lifestyle without hesitating, but then wistfully look back at his old haunt with a quivering tear of reminiscence in his eye. You would have to agree that whether it’s better or worse, easier or harder, his life is certainly more complicated.

Moving along, it strikes me that one of the peculiarities of the modern world is that the wealthy are the worst affected by stress, depression, and other "lifestyle diseases". How is it, for example, that a man living comfortably on $2000 a week can be more stressed or depressed than a checkout chick on $300 a week, or a Somalian corn farmer earning $10 a week?

I think that the wealthy man simply has so many choices that he gets sucked into a sort of alphabet soup whirlpool, drowning amongst Ralph magazines, Harvey Norman electrical catalogues, and copies of Business Review Weekly. He is constantly reminded of all the fashions, gizmos, shares and properties he needs in order to be considered successful, but countless high-profile examples demonstrate that wealth, and therefore greater choice, do not equate to happiness - if anything, the opposite may be true.

Don’t get me wrong, choice is essential, but the challenge for us modern folk is to make choices that complement our true passions and goals, and to not allow ourselves to be blinded by the neon lights of consumer culture.

I leave you today with words from the song "Freedom of Choice", by iconic 1980’s keyboard pop group Devo:

“In ancient Rome there was a poem, about a dog who had two bones. He picked at one, he licked the other, he went in circles till he dropped dead."