I found "The Paradox of Choice" Google Tech Talk pretty good. There is a book by the same name. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6127548813950043200
-- Vinayak On Sun, Jan 18, 2009 at 7:44 PM, Udhay Shankar N <[email protected]> wrote: > I can't resist quoting Rush on this: > > You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice. > If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice. > You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill; > I will choose a path that's clear > I will choose free will. > > Udhay > > http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/12/05/AR2008120501806_pf.html > > Choosing Not To Choose > Ever feel lost in a maze of too many options? Here's how one man let > indecision be his friend. > > By T.M. Shine > Sunday, December 14, 2008; W14 > > This social experiment had to begin with doughnuts. They have always > been my downfall. Not because of the fat, floury contents or the > mortality-threatening sugar count, but because I can never decide which > dozen to order in the intense pressure of a crowded Dunkin' Donuts. I > start to drown in a torrent of rushed decisions and false moves, with > nothing to look forward to but inevitable dissatisfaction with the > choices I've made; the act has always been a metaphor for my life. > > At some point, it occurred to me that my problem wasn't really doughnuts. > > It was making decisions. > > These days, there are so many choices to labor through, from the most > basic, such as paper or plastic at the grocery checkout counter, to the > nearly suicide-inducing, such as the friends-and-family plan or > unlimited texting. And don't even get me started on undercoating or > extended warranties. > > In these tough times, the abundance of life-changing decisions -- > finances, health care, career moves -- can be overwhelming. But don't > take it from me. Ask the guy who wrote the book "The Psychology of > Judgment and Decision Making." That would be Scott Plous, a psychology > professor at Wesleyan University. "There's no question that we have more > choices than ever before," Plous agreed. "And decisions are generally > harder and more time-consuming when there are lots of alternatives." > > Even Steve Jobs, whose technology allows us the misery of 18,000 music > selections in our pockets, has to counteract so many choices by wearing > the same outfit -- blue jeans, black turtleneck, New Balance sneakers -- > every single day of his life. With every move you make, you're bombarded > with predicaments from the banal to the extraordinary, and you obviously > can't trust yourself to make the right decisions anymore -- look where > that's gotten you. > > I know I'm not alone in this. We're all feeling a little needy now that > The Decider is about to caravan back down to Texas. Whom can we turn to? > The new resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. might have some more > important things on his mind than our individual indecisiveness. Friends > and family always have their own agendas; therapists are useless; and, > since the economic meltdown, there is a three-month wait to get in to > see a psychic in this town. So, who's left? > > Strangers, of course. They're everywhere. > > "Excuse me," I said to the woman behind me one morning in the queue at > Dunkin' Donuts. "I'm currently asking strangers to make all my > decisions. Would you mind picking out a dozen doughnuts for me?" > > "I'll order two, but then you're on your own," she said. > > "Never mind." > > Everyone knows the first two doughnuts are the easy ones. > > "I'll do it, but you'll have to tell me what you like," a gangly woman > who had overheard the previous exchange said. > > "Thanks, but that kind of defeats my purpose," I responded. > > "As long as you're paying," a thick-armed guy shrugged at me just as it > was his turn to order. > > He attacked the chore with glee. His choices were a blur of glaze and > frosting. He stopped only once, looked back at me and said, "Sprinkles, > two sprinkles," and they fell into the box with the majesty of a > fireworks grand finale. > > It was a win-win, a successful random act of indecision (RAI). And I was > striking a blow for science. "Your experiment will reveal how much > pleasure in a dessert comes from it simply being a dessert, rather than > a dessert that you would have chosen," Plous had observed. "In many > cases, the difference in benefit between two choices is smaller than > we'd guess." > > And that's not even counting the pleasure of not having to be the one to > make the tough decisions. I couldn't wait to get home and have someone > in my family make a face about the two apple crumbs -- Why'd you pick > the-e-e-se? -- so I could reply quite proudly, "I didn't." > Just Add Water > > This may be the best idea I've ever had. For two weeks, I relinquished > control over my decisions. I turned the reins over to perfect (well, I > don't know about perfect) strangers. > > Imagine the possibilities. You go shopping for sneakers and ask the > person in the next aisle to pick out a pair for you, or you hop in a > taxi and ask the driver to take you where he thinks you should go. Start > small. At a restaurant, approach the couple eating at the next table -- > "I hate to bother you, but I need to know what I want for dessert" -- > and work your way up to bigger decisions: "Burial or cremation?" > > You can't start smaller than Starbucks. I was bellying up to the > barista, perspiring heavily from a bike ride, when I started to ask the > woman beside me what I wanted to drink. She cut me off midway through my > spiel about how I was asking strangers to make my decisions and social > experiment and whatnot ... She didn't need any of that nonsense. > > "Just have a water," she said, snatching a bottle from the front case > and thrusting it at me. > > She herself ordered something that took the barista 11 moves to make, > but I was suddenly a model of simplicity: a sweaty man drinking cold water. > > Already, my life was beginning to emerge from the fog. Left to stew in > my own brew of insecurities, I'd still be tortured over caf, decaf or > half-caf. And the encounter didn't seem odd. Thanks to television shows > such as "The Office" and "Curb Your Enthusiasm," awkwardness is now > fashionable. Awkward is the new suave. > > Moments later, I asked a gentleman at the newsstand if I should become a > night shaver instead of a morning shaver. I always wanted to be a night > shaver -- go to bed cleanly shaven and wake up with sexy stubble that > would be alluring until at least noon and ... > > "Absolutely not," the gentleman said. > > I'm sure he's right. > > Later in the day, when I asked a sandy-haired woman at Old Navy to pick > out a shirt for me, she began to look me up and down as if I were trying > to pass through a security checkpoint. I didn't mind the once-over, but > the twice-over and the thrice-over were a bit annoying. Her eyes were > darting and zooming in on my weaknesses. Zoom: Stain on shirt he's > wearing -- sloppy guy. Zoom: Right ear noticeably bigger than left -- > bad genes. Zoom: Scar on wrist -- possible suicide attempt. > > I had to fight the urge to stop her and shout: The scar's just from > punching a lamppost. It's not even going the right direction for a > suicide attempt. > > Zoom: Chicken legs. They're not really chicken legs. They're more like > free-range chicken legs, which are a little more muscular than chicken > legs because they're ... you know ... running free. But I stopped > myself. I didn't want her decision muddied by all the same junk in my > head that muddies my decisions. > > Once committed, she was sincere and devoted to the cause. "I want you to > have a crisper, cleaner look," she exclaimed. > > When an actual employee of the store overheard part of our conversation > and asked quizzically, "Sir, can I assist you?" my new helper quickly > snapped back, "No, I've got this." > > She did. She had this all the way. "And don't tuck it in," she said, as > I headed for the checkout counter. "It's designed to be worn out." > > I was still feeling crisp and clean when I stopped at the library. The > mission: to give a stranger the chore of selecting a book for me. > > "You sure? Picking out a book ... that's kind of an intimate decision," > the chosen one said. She was sitting at a tiny table with a little boy > and looking up at me as if I was one more irritation in an already long > day. But once I said I was positive, she popped up as if she'd just > adopted me, no questions asked. > > "Follow me." > > With the little boy in hand, she cut across the library with the > supermarket stride of a mom who just realized she'd forgotten the Fruit > Roll-Ups two aisles back. We were headed deep into the bowels -- past > the large prints and the self-helps, beyond the reference books, even. > Then she stopped short, pivoted, dropped a four-pound book in my hands > and said, "Here." > > I thanked her profusely, but I'm not sure it even registered. She just > mentally checked me off her list and was on her way. The whole encounter > -- in fact, the entire day -- was astonishing. By dusk, my new life's > course had been set by an entire team of people whose names I didn't > even know. > > I'd accepted all advice without question, with one exception: While at > the local cineplex, I asked the third woman in line what I should see, > and she said, "Nights in Rodanthe." I just couldn't do it. I went home > to watch "Bones" on TV. > > At an ATM stop on the way home, I gave the gentleman waiting in the > shadows behind me no preface, no social experiment bull, no need for a > full body scan. I just asked -- "Should I get up early tomorrow or sleep > in?" -- and he just knew. > > "Sleep in." > > Good decision. I needed the sleep, because I stayed up late reading "The > Singing Life of Birds: The Art and Science of Listening to Birdsong." I > got to Page 136 before closing my eyes on a brave new world. > Not Sweating the Big Stuff > > If any one group of people was ever in need of a diversion it's the > group waiting for the 12:15 p.m. to Newark. > > At least that's what I thought when I arrived at the airport with an > armful of decisions that needed making. In my hands were printouts of > several health-care and financial options, as well as a brochure for > night courses available at a nearby junior high school. With that kind > of workload, I needed people both bored and contained. > > I figured it would be awfully hard for a stranger sprawled out on > industrial grade carpet, barefoot, using a pink duffel bag as a pillow > and reading OK! magazine to tell me, "Sorry, I'm too busy right now." > > It wasn't that hard. In fact, she didn't even stretch out the response > that way. She just chirped, "Bizzy." > > My next stratagem was to approach individuals who appeared friendly, > which meant they were wearing sneakers. Well, people who wear sneakers > are actually quite ornery. > > Oddly, it's the Bluetooth type -- and, more specifically, individuals > with two laptops -- who are the most gracious, endearing people on the > planet and who are ideal for this type of social experiment. > > "I don't do experiments, but let me see those papers," a two-laptop guy > said, snatching the documents out of my hands. > > I told him he didn't have to do it all, that I was going to spread the > work around, but he ignored me. Then, without looking up, he handed the > junior high brochure back to me and said, "Get somebody else for this." > > I left him looking over the financial papers and found a guy four seats > over who took two phone calls just during the 15 seconds it took me to > explain my predicament. > > "Okay, what have we got here?" he finally said as if he were used to > people constantly sticking things under his nose to sign off on. When it > came to making big decisions, he was on cruise control. > > "Does the class have to be useful?" he asked. "There's stuff like 'How > to Start a Home Business,' and then there's just junk like ... like > calligraphy." > > "Useless is good," I said. > > Back in the next row, just as Two-Laptops started thumbing through the > health-care and financial documents, a colleague of his showed up, and > he was quite gregarious, so I thought for sure my man was going to get > sidetracked. But Two-Laptops was homed in on my task, and the next thing > I knew, the associate wanted in and had his hands on the health plans. > > "I used to be in the insurance business," the associate said. That > initially turned me off because I thought he might still have cronies in > the business and try to sway me toward his old buddy Kenny who sells > overpriced coverage to imbeciles. But then he added, "They're all scum," > so I nodded my approval. > > My approval. Listen to me. I had become extremely giddy, especially when > I spotted Night-Course Guy using the Wall Street Journal as a makeshift > desk as he circled items in the junior high brochure. > > It was at that moment that I decided that when I do "Random Acts of > Indecision" motivational talks -- around the Northeast and selected > regions of the Midwest -- this will be the anecdote I wow my disciples > with right before the lunch break buffet, which is going to be excellent. > > While the boys were diligently working away on major decisions I didn't > want any part of and there was a good 20 minutes till boarding, I had > planned to leave them alone. Tell them I'd be over by Gate 34, sitting > with the people waiting to go to Detroit. > > But before I could stray, they started bombarding me with questions. > With hands raised, they had me running back and forth between them like > a schoolteacher monitoring a class. > > "Do you already have coverage?" > > "Yes, but I need to switch." > > "So, it hasn't lapsed yet?" > > "No." > > "Are you going to be adding money to your 401(k)?" > > "No, I don't plan on ever making any more money." > > "Do you like watercolors?" > > "No, I mean, yes!" > > I kept thinking that all this unusual activity at the airport could > attract the attention of Homeland Security agents, and possible Tasing. > > "Are you the type that would seek out unconventional treatments and > never give up?" Two-Laptops asked. > > "No, no, I'm famous for giving up." > > But, they didn't give up. Which is the beauty of RAI. > > End result: > > 1. BlueCross BlueShield Limited Benefits Plan 71 -- hospital and > surgical only. > > 2. Straight Vanguard money market account with annual yield of 0.09 percent. > > 3. One-stroke painting. > > Okay, people, let's break for lunch. > Danger Signs > > When I told my friend Laura about RAI and how much I was getting > accomplished, thanks to leaving all my decisions to strangers, she posed > an interesting question. > > "What if you can't stop?" > > That is a good question. And, in fact, I've decided there is no good > reason to shut down this adventure after only two weeks. Random Acts of > Indecision is not a social experiment. It's a lifestyle. > > I was finishing up this story at a restaurant not far from my house, the > first laptop loiterer this pizza place had probably ever seen. It was a > glorious day. A day for calling in sick to work, buying 14 pounds of > grapes from Whole Foods and stomping them into wine in your basement. > > I was so giddy with indecision that I wanted to come up with decisions I > didn't even have to make. Should I rotate the crops on my squash farm > this year? What color ribbons should I put in my lapdog's hair after > today's grooming? Should I start Terrell Owens on my fantasy football > team this week? > > I'm not usually one to look too far into the future, especially since > several people have told me I don't have one, but nothing gives me more > pleasure than to envision myself at a roof garden party in 2012 as a > woman nudges her date while muttering, "Look, that's the guy who hasn't > made a decision of his own since November '08." > > I couldn't wait for some moment of great turmoil -- a bind, a dilemma, a > predicament of major proportions -- with people coming at me from every > side shouting, "What are you going to do? What are you going to do?!" so > I could calmly respond, "It's not for me to decide." > > Midway through this endeavor, I interrupted Maryland-based professional > life coach Christy Helou's lunch to get her expert opinion on Random > Acts of Indecision. "It's an interesting and intriguing experiment," she > said over the phone. "Except for a little thing called the loss of > control over one's life." > > "Oh," I said. "I hadn't thought of that." > > That sounds a lot like a disaster in the making, doesn't it? But it also > sounds a little bit like being free. > > As I wrote these words, I was eating a slice of pizza with toppings -- > mushroom and sausage -- chosen by the frail man I had held the door open > for five minutes before. I was wearing a crisp striped shirt picked out > by a meticulous sandy-haired woman and, between sips of iced tea, > glancing at Page 351 of a book that was enlightening me to the "Cho-WE > Cho-WE" of the Carolina wren -- all the while patiently waiting for the > next customer to come through the door to decide whether I wanted to use > the eatery's rarely cleaned restroom or wait until I got home. > > The burden of responsibility for my life has lifted. Evangelicals and > alcoholics have their moments of being born again, and this is mine. The > old adage "You have no one to blame but yourself" doesn't apply to me > anymore. Next year, when things go wrong, I will have no one to blame > but each and every one of you. > > T.M. Shine last wrote for the Magazine about Washington's seats of > power. He blogs at tmshine.blogspot.com and can be reached at > [email protected]. > > -- > ((Udhay Shankar N)) ((udhay @ pobox.com)) ((www.digeratus.com))
