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The Cost of Everything

The Luncheon of the Boating Party (Renoir, 1881)

The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.

— Henry David Thoreau 

Ever since the government printed all the money, everything is remarkably more expensive.

Houses, eggs, martinis.

Girl Math is trending. Boy Math is trending.

Money is the physical representation of work and it’s easy to count, so we are usually good at figuring out whether something is worth the money it costs us. Do I want to max out my 401(k) or keep getting cheese from Whole Foods?

But, the older we get and the more bullshit we deal with, we start realizing that the cost of something is more than the money.

Energy, stress, mood. These are harder to count, but they are at least as important as financial costs.

I know Boomers that will use $10 of gas and drive in traffic across town to save $5.

There are time costs, mental health costs, opportunity costs, physical health costs, social costs, and so on.

We know that everything has a value and everything has a cost. We are intuitively making these calculations all the time.

Is skipping a trip worth missing out on the memories? How much time should I spend on TikTok? Is the relationship worth the effort? Is buying something worth the maintenance?

If we think clearly about all the costs, we will get better deals.

If we live to 90, that’s 4,680 weeks. This helps sharpen the focus on the non-monetary costs.

The Cost of Stress & Time

I would rather be waterboarded at Guantanamo Bay than call customer service.

Corporations make errors all the time. Magically, the errors tend to be in their favor.

If I was overcharged for something in my 20s, I would be vigilant in getting it fixed, for the money and out of principle.

Calling customer service is obviously a tax. No one ever said, “Yeah, my day was pretty good because I got to chat with several people at Comcast. The most rewarding part was repeating the same thing as they transferred me to different departments.”

While the indignation and principles remain, I am more strategic now.

Sometimes it’s unavoidable. At other times, we have to ask: Is it worth the stress of calling Georgia Power to get my $23 back?

I tried their internet chat. Started out trying to be friends with a robot. After an ALL CAPS LIVE REPRESENTATIVE plead for help was answered, they said they can’t make financial decisions via chat (convenient).

I felt pot-committed, so I called and heard the most annoying corporate nudge of the past decade: “We are experiencing unusually high call volume. Try your call again later.” Not, “Oh a live representative will assist you as soon as the Mexico Border Wall is completed,” just a flat out, “Try your call again later.” If you could have seen my face when I heard that. I thought, “Are they allowed to simply not have a customer service department?”

So, yes they are monsters and I hope the class action lawsuit happens, and we all get our $2.37 settlement.

But, who really wins?

Do I respect money? Of course. My personal financial spreadsheet is thousands of columns and rows.

But, if I would have taken all the time, energy, and effort I spent in my life talking to customer service representatives (who are doing their best to speak English), who knows what I could have done?

We all think about this, but I know rich people that don’t have TSA PreCheck and I know poor people that use Uber Eats.

An honest assessment of how much our time is worth is an important consideration.

My time is more valuable now than it was when I graduated college, so the tradeoffs change and are worth reevaluating periodically.

The Cost of Dumb, Untrustworthy, or Toxic People

I discovered that life is better when I do things with smart, trustworthy, and emotionally mature people.

Conversely, dumb, untrustworthy, or toxic people generally make my life worse.

They are harder to make plans with, it’s a hassle getting a debt repaid, and of course there is the drama. I eventually look at the relationship and ask: Is it worth it?

The cost of keeping these people in your life is…yet again, your life.

Maintaining relationships clearly entails a cost, and for the right ones, it’s worth it.

So, that’s the point. It’s not trying to minimize costs. It’s trying to bear costs thoughtfully.

I may be projecting, but I feel like everyone has a lot on their plate. Judging from my email inboxes the world wants to consume our 24 hours, every day.

The Thoreau quote at the beginning has been increasingly on my mind and I am increasingly trying to invest my time, energy, money, and mood into people, things, and experiences that are durable and long-lasting.

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Thanks to James Bunch, Laramie Bolin, and Suzanna V. Wood for reading drafts of this.

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