All Sales Final
I was in the pet store today picking up some crickets for my son’s lizard, when I noticed signs posted all around the store: “Choose carefully. Live animals are not returnable. All sales final.” Good advice, I thought, if I ever wanted to entertain the notion of having a pet rabbit. If you’ve ever had one, you know what I mean.
So anyway, I got to thinking about our perceptions as consumers. Sometimes, obviously, we get what we paid for. Other times, we get more than we paid for. And still yet, there are times when we get cheated, or it just wasn’t what we thought it would be. The key, as suggested by this sign—lies within the consumer. Think before you buy.
I’m reading the book Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture by Ellen Shell, and I’m not that far into it yet, but something struck a chord. The book details the history of consumerism in America, highlighting the various innovations in manufacturing and marketing that have shaped how and what we buy. Shell says we have become so obsessed with getting a good deal that we have little concept of value any more. We don’t know, really, what something is worth by looking at the price tag, which is, in many respects, arbitrary and subjective. Retailers manipulate price, according to Shell, which “can confuse is, block the thinking part of our brain and ignite the impulsive, primitive side, the part that leads us to make poor decisions based on bad assumptions.” I am intrigued by the phrase “poor decisions based on bad assumptions.” The practice of making bad decisions is a result of not thinking things through, of course, or not properly analyzing our options, weighing the consequences. Bad decisions are usually those based on emotion, the passion of the moment. Her point is that price has nothing to do with value. Our understanding of value only comes from our experience with the product. Yet, the author says, “despite discounts galore, Americans habitually fret that we are paying too much.” Translation: We have the mentality that there is always something better, a better price, a better deal. But does this mentality go deeper than our wallets?
This price anxiety, I would argue, is so ingrained in us that it now part of our collective psyche, so much so that it influences our relationships, behaviors, and many areas of our lives. We are out for the best “deal”—the one that is the cheapest, takes the least amount of time and effort. We are more interested in convenience than we are value.
Every year, McDonald’s sells 2.7 billion pounds of hot, fresh, readily available instant gratification in the form of the French fry. Are they really that good? Really?
I know people who have 1,000 Facebook friends, very few of whom I suspect they have ever spoken to for more than ten minutes.
Cheap. Abundant. Worthless.
When we are on the cheap, we weaken our quality of life, our relationships, and sense of self worth.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I ran into a friend I hadn’t spoken to in a while. We chatted briefly, she asked how I was doing. At the time, my dad had just been hospitalized and we were sure, just yet, what was going on, or how serious it was. It was touch and go for a couple of days. As I stood there telling her about it, she kept looking off to the side, not making eye contact. It was glaringly clear that she was in a hurry, that there was somewhere more important to be, that she didn’t have time to listen. I was going through a scary time, and she was looking over her shoulder. I am not a body language expert, but I suspect that that particular movement is a subconscious pulling of oneself away from the situation.
Fast. Cheap. Convenient. Relationships were never meant to come in a pre-packaged box, one that is easy to open, palatable to everyone, and user-friendly. They aren’t something we should hoard, nor something we can easily return. Too often we buy into people impulsively because it seems like a good idea, then buyer’s remorse sets in and we play the time card. Have you ever heard yourself say the words, “Well, she/he just doesn’t have time…”? Maybe you’ve said it about yourself.
We accept busy-ness as an excuse for all manner of rude, dismissive behavior. Granted, we don’t have time for deep relationships with everyone we meet, but we do have time for common courtesy, kindness, and empathy. Sadly, I think we’ve gotten used to this sort of behavior in our society. Time, after all, is a commodity, and there’s never enough of it. And it’s true that some people are just simply bad at managing it.
There’s an older song by country singer Tracy Lawrence, “Find Out Who Your Friends Are.” The chorus goes:
You find out who
your friends are
Somebody’s gonna drop everything
Run out and crank up their car
Hit the gas, get there fast
Never stop to think ‘what’s in it for me?’ or ‘it’s way too far’
They just show on up with their big old heart
You find out who your friends are
The message isn’t anything new. At some point in life, we do find out who are true friends are. Sometimes too late. More often than not, we find out who our friends aren’t. Nearly every day, Facebook is full of posts lamenting wrong behavior or treatment. Some may say people are simply self-centered, that they just don’t want to invest where there’s no immediate benefit. That may be true, but I don’t think it’s strictly about “what’s in it for me.” I think it’s about “you’re not the best deal.” Never mind value. You might cost too much—too much time, too much energy, too much whatever.
It’s that cheap mentality—price anxiety. There’s nothing you can buy—not a luxury trip, nor therapist, nor pill on the market that can cure it. You know the song, “Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe?” When you are indebted to no one but Jesus, values—not deals—abound everywhere, in every area of your life. God gave us the gift of discernment—not price—to guide our decisions, including the friends that we choose. After all, we are not “shopping” for friends. Friends, like rabbits, are not just cute little fuzzy buddies in a cage. They are wild animals with claws that must be handled properly. Choose carefully. All sales final.
