I spend far too much energy and time agonizing over my shoes.
I own a pair of expensive black flats. These lovely shoes were advertised as the best shoes ever – comfortable, classy, fun. They looked convincing on Instagram and were endorsed on Facebook, so should be perfect for my feet too! Except my feet are very unhappy. The shoes squeaked with each step. The backs slip down my heel after three squeaky steps. But they are perfect. They are popular, and I want to be popular.
Maybe it’s my feet. It could not possibly be the pretty shoes. Yet for two years when my outfit called for black flats, I hesitated, then pulled out a different pair of shoes returning the expensive, almost brand-new flats back on the shelf promising that next time I would choose them. Next time it will be different.
Who hasn’t suffered the agony of bad choices, compounded by increasingly expensive fixes, or replacements, and complete unwillingness to circle around and just eliminate or give away the offending object in question?
Because giving away an unworkable object means giving up on the promise that it will work – giving up on the brand promise.
It’s not just shoes, this problem can be a dream, a man, or a work in progress.
Economists call this sunk cost. The idea is that you cannot extract yourself from a project or idea because you’ve already invested too much time and money. So we continue to throw good money after bad.
The most obvious example of sunk cost is gambling – the next dice roll will win and at last, justify all the recent losses. One more for the win.
Did you ever fly to a famous, five-day conference that promised your life would totally change? But by 3:00 PM on day two you are not only woefully uninspired you have a sneaky suspicion all these rah, rah seminars are a waste of time. But if you spent the money, you may learn something life-changing tomorrow during the prayer breakfast. You won’t. Sign up for the brewery tour.
Have you spent hours and hours editing a manuscript that still doesn’t work? Did you get the 113th rejection from an agent or publisher? Are you staring at a project that represents countless leisure hours but no matter how many words you fling, how much research you unearth, how many coaches you engage, the MS still doesn’t work?
Sunk cost is a human response, very human. Beating a dead horse is a cliche for a reason (as is the phrase throwing good money after bad). We know it, we feel it. Yet we are still loath to admit our mistakes. We also loathe waste and so panic over misspent time or money. But it was expensive, but I need to get all the good out if I can. I don’t want to waste it!
We were raised in education systems that punished being wrong and vilified time spent on projects that didn’t turn out or work at all. Is it any wonder we just can’t give up?
But sunk cost is a natural component of the creative process. Creative experimentation looks a lot like wasted time. The creative process often requires time and money with little to show for it. Creativity means days and days working to create a single page of copy. It’s not wasted time; it is time spent on discovery.
The shoes remained in my closet for another six months. I considered keeping them as a memento of irrational determination in the face of irrefutable experience. Intellectually I knew these lovely, seemingly perfect shoes should just be tossed into the Goodwill bag. Someone else could use these shoes, they will fit someone else’s more cooperative foot. I held on. Until I found the courage to listen to my feet, close my eyes, and drop the shoes into that Goodwill bag. It was hard, but once out of sight, a relief. The shoes will live on as a cautionary tale.
What should you just toss into the Goodwill bag, or off your to-do list? Just get it over with and move forward. You’ll feel better when you do.
