Immutable Antinomy · Track 19 · middle
Ode to the Paradox of Choice
More options should mean more satisfaction. It doesn't. Too many choices produce paralysis, regret, and anxiety — the tyranny of the self-selected optimal. Barry Schwartz named it. Supermarkets proved it. An ode to the moment abundance became its own kind of poverty, and freedom its own kind of trap.
Lyrics
[Intro] Ten AM. Tuesday. The air is cold enough to see your breath. [Verse 1] Aisle seven. The dressings. One hundred and seventy-five of them. Balsamic, Caesar, Ranch, Italian. One hundred and seventy-five little glass bottles of regret. Down the way, the cookies. Two hundred and eighty-five kinds. Chocolate chip, oatmeal, shortbread, sandwich. Each one a future I can’t have. And the olive oils, seventy-five deep. First press, cold press, unfiltered, infused. A wall of green glass and perfect labels. I came here for one thing. I just wanted one simple thing. [Chorus] They call this freedom. This paralysis in the holy light of the supermarket. They call this abundance. This poverty of the one right choice I know I’m going to miss. This is the tyranny of the optimal. And I am frozen here. [Verse 2] I remember the story. The tasting booth near the produce section. Twenty-four little jars of jam. Strawberry, apricot, blackberry, fig. Twenty-four spoons, twenty-four promises. And everyone stopped to look. And almost nobody bought a thing. Too many worlds in one small jar. But the next day, with only six… they walked away with something sweet. They walked away certain. [Chorus] They call this freedom. This paralysis in the holy light of the supermarket. They call this abundance. This poverty of the one right choice I know I’m going to miss. This is the tyranny of the optimal. And I am frozen here. [Bridge] Barry Schwartz saw it in 2004. He counted the boxes, he read the signs. Every option you don’t choose is a loss. Every door you don’t open is a ghost in the one you did. Satisfaction bleeds out. Regret seeps in. And all you’re left with is the perfect thing you almost had. [Outro] One hundred seventy-five. Two hundred eighty-five. Seventy-five. Twenty-four. Six. Three percent. I just came for one thing.