My first time

Posted by Marc Hodak on July 21, 2007 under Invisible trade-offs | Comments are off for this article

I was a paper boy in high school. I would get up at about 5 a.m., go to my drop point where a stack of papers would be waiting for me, and deliver them through the neighborhood in time for me to get back home and get ready for school. Once a month, I would go around door-to-door to collect money from the families on my route. It was generally the only time I saw them. They would tell me what a fine job I did, and often tip me a quarter or 50 cents. A couple of customers even tipped me a dollar. I always remembered who they were. Every now and then, someone might tell me that I wasn’t always getting the paper to them early enough, or that they preferred to get the paper at their side door rather than their front door, and I would adjust my deliveries to accommodate them.

Collecting money was a pain. I might have to go to some houses two or three times before finding someone home. After I collected the money, I would count up what I owed the newspaper, based on the wholesale price of the subscriptions, and put it in an envelope to give to Mr. B., the man who dropped off the papers for me each morning. The difference between what I collected and the wholesale price is what I got to keep.

One day, Mr. B. drove by to pick up the money, and he asked me if I would be interested in giving up collections. He offered to send out invoices, collect the money by mail, and instead of picking up an envelope of cash from me once a month, he’d bring me a check. He said it would be more efficient all around. Win-win.

I thought about it. The prospect of saving several hours a week not having to collect money definitely appealed to me. On the other hand, if I didn’t collect it myself, I would lose the tips, which were nice, and what little interaction I had with my customers, who were also generally nice, and who sometimes let me know when I needed to change something in my delivery. In the end, I decided that it was worth it to let Mr. B. handle collections.

The next month, instead of running around to collect money, I sat back in my room at home, finished some homework without having to rush, and generally enjoyed what seemed like a little time off. Then I got my check from Mr. B.

I looked at it, and quickly realized it was less than I expected. I asked him what happened to the rest. He smiled, shook his head, and explained that he subtracted the administrative costs associated with collections. I told him that he didn’t tell me about these administrative costs when he offered to do this. I was willing to give up the tips, but not this administrative cost, too. I told him this no longer seemed like such a win-win to me, and that I would just as soon return to the old way of collecting. Mr. B. smiled, shook his head, and said that there was no going back. I felt rooked.

That was my first experience with hidden trade-offs. After that, I became more careful whenever someone offered me a “win-win” opportunity. When a salesman promises me some sort of deal, I insist on understanding where, exactly, the value will come from. Will I be giving up some level of service in exchange for reduced costs? If not, where do the productivity gains come from? Sometimes, I would get good answers, and take a chance on the deal. If I didn’t get good enough answers, I would pass.

I love getting value for my time, energy, or money, but I always react to offers with a little skepticism. Certain people tend to gain my trust pretty easily. They tend to be deliberate, precise types who back up their claims with logical explanations and sound data. I’m glad to have the kind of training that enables me to understand their explanations and evaluate their data, otherwise my skepticism would have long ago degenerated into cynicism. Other kinds of people have very little credibility with me. They tend to smile and shake their heads when explaining why their last deal didn’t work out as well as they had promised. I no longer pursue their promises, no matter how wonderful they sound. Politicians generally belong to that group.

I wish more people had my experience of feeling duped at a time when the cost was low but the impact was high. Such an experience might coax more people to better learn how to evaluate promises. Unfortunately, it seems that most of my fellow citizens tend to be either credulous or cynical. I think that many of the problems we face today arise from that imbalance.