The paradox of choice is your own worst enemy.

$16 for a regular-sized, homemade-looking sandwich is insanity.

For Erewhon, it probably has to be—otherwise, people wouldn’t spend $20 on fruit smoothies. If everything’s expensive, then nothing is, right?

Anyway, I didn’t buy that sandwich; I was only there for a bottle of caffeine.

In the drink section, staring at shelves with half-open eyes, I’m faced with 40 random brands of beverages I’ve never seen before. What to choose, what to choose, I thought. I stand there for at least five minutes, surely more—way longer than it should’ve taken—privileged with the hardest decision of my morning. With so many brands to choose from, I refused to try something new and grabbed a bottle of maté that I’ve enjoyed many times before.

Why?

Because I’d much rather enjoy something I know won’t be shit than be brave, try something new, and risk disappointment—only to be left regretting my bravery with a five-dollar hole in my pocket.

This exact anecdote is called the paradox of choice: being overwhelmed with options to the point that making no choice feels easiest. In my case, I defaulted to something familiar rather than leaving the store with nothing.

Have you ever experienced this before?

The Paradox of Choice

A paradox mainly associated with consumer behavior, I feel like this occurrence is more widespread than we know—not just in buying canned beverages but in other areas, like finding hobbies or socializing with strangers. From infinite things to do to infinite things to say, unlimited possibilities rarely make coming to a decision easier; in fact, they often make them harder.

Come to think of it, we probably don’t even need more of anything—TV shows, TikToks, caffeinated beverages, self-help books, life hacks, supplements, etc.

But then again, we kinda do. Ah, a paradox within a paradox. We’re not about to go Inception-Interstellar deep; just bear with me.

“How’s that so?” you ask.

Because we feel far more productive following our innate desire for progression, innovation, and newness than stalling on the freeway, stuck, unable to move forward. It’s why we continuously crave more regardless if we need it or not.

Personally, I think we want fewer choices.

Trader Joe’s is a perfect example.

If you’ve never been, go. There’s a maximum of four variations of any given product, most only having one or two. Everything’s white-labeled as made by Trader Joe’s, so they’re putting their brand on the line if anything’s bad—which, in turn, builds trust due to the potential risk of tarnishing their name.

This makes it dumb easy to make a decision. When there are only a handful of options, you’re not stuck staring at 40 possible brands.

We really just want one

So how do we go about resolving something like this? How do we remedy that ugly scrolling-Netflix-forever-and-not-finding-anything feeling? As a society, quitting most of the above cold turkey is both impractical and difficult. You’ll be one of those people who talks about owning a flip phone yet won’t be able to access the menu at a diner because it’s a stupid QR code.

I wish the solution were more complicated, but it’s not: you need strength to add constraints to your life. It can be as simple as deleting an app or having another person hold you accountable.

In order to enjoy the pleasantries and niceties that come with living, we must limit ourselves more often than not—our brains weren’t designed to conceive infinite everything. “Everything’s amazing, yet nobody’s happy,” as comedian Louis C.K. says.

It’s by setting boundaries on what we can do or want to do that makes it all easier.

Rather than infinite Netflix choices, pick a single movie from a random list of five. Socializing at parties? Have one question or statement ready to go, feel out the vibe, and go from there.

I think it’s with less that we’ll find ourselves in a more capable spot, allowing us to do and experience more.

Or so I think,

George