Tag: Money

Induced Demand

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Partner and I went on a crawl of some of the best food in The City that would have been prohibitive two years ago.

I wrote a prompt:

“Find me all the 4.9* or higher rated restaurants on Google Maps in New York City with at least 500 reviews.”

With a little coaxing, Claude did it.

When a new technology arrives, we — that is to say the average people and the general public — exalt how it will change work forever. Give us all so much free time.

To some degree that’s true.

It unlocks possibility.

But that possibility also unlocks possibility that destroys the original possibilty.

Induced Demand, they call it. It’s the story of why 6-line highways have no less traffic than 4-lane highways. It’s why friction really truly does prevent people from doing things but frictionlessness doesn’t lead to empty space.

The time fills. The space newly open is immediately claimed.

I now have a google maps list of every top-rated restaurant in New York City. Tomorrow, I’ll sort it by price. When hungry, I’ll be able to open up my phone and spy exactly what I want in the blink fo an eye.

I’ll find it glorious. My children will roll their eyes. Their children will laugh. And their children will wonder what the hell was food.

How much of employment is emotional soothing? 

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Actually: how much? 

I recently read a Reddit post by a multi-exited CEO. She mentioned that most of her job is informational framing. It’s the same facts, framed precisely for the target. 

I’ve coached a number of CEOs. I’ve ghostwritten for even more. The uber-successful ones are universally kind, curious, and generous. The medium-successful are jumpy and reactive. 

I wonder if emotional soothing is such a big deal for humans that it’s the key piece to be solved before all others. (“You’re not you when you’re cranky”, and the like.) 

If that’s true, then solving this main need opens up a lot of doors. Logical thinking becomes much easier. Reliable behavior, too. 

People like people they can rely on. People bet on people they can rely on. 

Perhaps it’s those middle-successful who need the emotional soothing, 

while the best of the best just take care of themselves.

Don’t gussy up poor-person food and tell me it’s rich. 

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I’ve been to Indonesia. I’ve eaten nasi goreng. I liked it. That’s why I can’t eat it anywhere else. 

Nasi goreng is poor-person food. For under $5, you can get a heaping plate of eggs, rice, vegetables, meat, and spices. In the US, you can get the same (or more often, a worse version of the same) dish for $20. That doesn’t make it better! 

I’m in Dublin. Today, I ate a boxty. It’s potato dumplings plus cream sauce. It’s clearly poor-person food. I followed it up with fish & chips, also poor-person food. The first was 27euros. The second 21euros. Both were bland and uninteresting. Both would have been passable at 7euros. These were the best places in Dublin! The highest-rated for their respective dishes! Featured on best-of lists! 

I’m perfectly satisfied by 6-dumplings-for-$5.50 from a basement store with a bathroom toilet more disgusting than any at Woodstock. What I don’t like is putting a bow on that set of dumplings and selling them for $20. 

So far, Partner and I have eaten 6 meals in Ireland. We are 2/5 on passability: the late-night kebab upon arrival was delicious, as was the full Irish breakfast this morning. The beef-and-guinness stew, the fish & chips, and the boxtys are to be avoided. 

Tomorrow, we try the lamb. At least a $23 lamb shank seems appropriately priced. Let’s hope it’s also appropriately tasty.  

The ease of AI

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Today, Partner and I planned a trip. Three days ago, we weren’t planning on going to Europe. Yesterday night, we had booked and scheduled nothing. Today, we have an entire itinerary, including flights to and from, housing, five restaurants (one reserved), two tours, one museum, and four theater show tickets.

Previously, this trip would have taken me ~3 days to plan. Now, I do it in five hours. Thank you, Claude.

Where does the extra time go?

I’ve heard that work-time-savings leads to people working more hours. For me, I don’t know if that’s true. We’re all on the hedonic treadmill to some degree. But the hour I spend at the gym is a glorious hour, and it’s not improved by more expensive equipment. The Chinatown basement dumplings are exquisite, and they’re $5.50 to eat while strolling across the bridge to Brooklyn. When Partner and I visited Budapest, we stayed in a five-star hotel for 2 nights, followed by a $60/night aparthotel (an apartment converted into a hotel). We dramatically preferred the aparthotel, and not just for fundamentals like location. We like having our own fridge and stove.

Much happiness comes from the removal of friction. When drudgery goes away, the system shines brighter. I could be aging; my values changing, but I don’t feel the need to spend the extra time grinding. What would be the point? Where would we go? If you grind, grind, grind, eventually: you disappear.

Error-filled poker is best poker

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Tonight I played in a poker game. $50 buy-in tournament, unlimited rebuys, and you pay an additional $10 in cash to the person who knocks you out each time you’re knocked out. 

A list of the errors that the host made: 

  1. Not moving the blinds properly when someone is knocked out. (The correct action: the big blind moves to its proper position. The small blind follows the big blind. If this process would lead to someone being small blind twice in a row, there is no small blind.)
  2. When coloring-up chips, arbitrarily rounding up. (“Coloring up” is the process of removing small-denomination chips when they’re no longer useful. If someone has eight $10 chips and the small blind is now $100 and the big blind $200, you might as well turn all the $10 chips into $50 chips. There is a designated process for coloring up. It’s called a “chip race”. Our host instead just rounded people up… sometimes. Like, if you had three $100 chips, she just gave you a $500. But somebody received three $1000 chips in exchange for a trove of $50 chips. And there’s NO WAY he had 60 of those $50s. I think it far more likely that she mis-mathed.) 
  3. Miscounting stacks. At one point, one guy busted another. Only they miscounted how much money the two guys had, so they left the loser with a few chips when they shouldn’t have. I noticed that they miscounted. But I had only been present at this game for ~30 minutes when the miscount occurred, in a room where I was the plus one to someone I’d never actually hung out with. I didn’t want to intervene if someone else might catch it, and didn’t want to overstep my role. Nobody likes a newbie know-it-all who can eyeball a miscount from the other side of the table. 
  4. When a card is exposed, they offer the would-be owner of the exposed card the option to call a misdeal. Again, this is a circumstance with clearly defined process. Follow the process. (Certainly don’t give the would-be owner the option to call a misdeal after that person has looked at their replacement card. I was the beneficiary of this option in one circumstance, and being new to the game, let it slide. They exposed my ace, replaced it with a three, and I called a misdeal.) 
  5. If one of the players is outside for a smoke break, we fold his hand. But if the host’s boyfriend is away from the table, we wait for him. (Of the above issues, this is probably the main circumstance I find chicanerous. I’ll chalk it up to the cost of her hosting.) 

Don’t interpret these as complaints. I had an absolute blast. 

I didn’t only take advantage of the spots where it was good for me. In this game, I was along for the ride. There were ~3 spots where the mis-done blinds were meaningfully negative for me. There were also ~2 spots where the incorrectly-done blinds were positive for me. I didn’t care. I was there to have fun and meet people and bring them joy and be invited back. 

I probably will be. The host likes that I keep the game moving. 

At ~11:30pm, when a player busted, dropping us from four players to three, I ran to the bathroom for a quick pee break. While I was in the bathroom, the other two players agreed to designate first, second, and third place by chip count if I accepted. The guy with the fewest chips agreed to taking third place (20% of the pot; $100). I would receive second place (30% of the pot; $150). The chip leader would receive first place (50% of the pot; $250). 

This division is unfair. It’s most unfair to the third-place guy, as it’s acting like he’s busted. It’s second-most unfair to me because I’m way better at poker than these guys (and the upside from second place to first is big). But I want to be invited back. 

So the host’s boyfriend got to win first. He was excited. The host is happy too. So am I. I had a great night. 

It was so fun. I spoke deeply and intimately with a treasure trove of people: 

  • The Long Island-born car mechanic who now owns his own dealership of refrigerated trucks and works 6am-6pm Monday through Friday. He’s as gruff and masculine as you’d expect. But he also says to his girlfriend, when he hears about this weekend’s storm: “You know what that means? Snuggle time!” 
  • The Frenchman who immediately clocks me as a fellow French-speaker because I can pronounce his name correctly… and who speaks so quickly and with such a thick accent that absolutely no one else understands him. My favorite part: he gets frustrated about folding a hand that would have hit a straight, after seeing another guy show his flush! Why are you upset about folding the hand that would have lost you a bunch of money?! 
  • The oldest man at the table, who has played with the group for years, who still doesn’t know the chip denominations. At one point, he said, “I’ll get it next year.” He’s probably been saying that for years. At one point, he moved to the seat beside me. I helped him by telling him, “The action’s on you. It’s $3000. That’s six reds or three blacks.” Then he’d still toss in the wrong amount, and I’d give him his change. 

I had a blast, brought joy to other people, and won. 

Same time next month. 

Adverse selection and dental decay

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Adverse selection means the lower-hanging fruit is likely to be worse. If it’s more accessible and others have elected against it, there is usually some reason. Since most people desire similar qualities in their fruit, the remaining low-hanging fruit is likely to be worse. Thus, adverse selection. (It’s also why that shockingly-available parking space is more likely to be a red zone than an actual parking space, and why stock traders accepting deals without knowing why they exist are more likely to lose than win.) 

Today I went to the City College in Brooklyn for a free teeth cleaning. I scheduled the appointment with Daynef yesterday. She told me there’s a $20 facilities fee, but she’s happy to pay that for me. 

Today, after three hours, my teeth are no cleaner than they started. 

At 5:58pm, I arrived to City College. At 6:03pm, Daynef ushered me upstairs. At 6:10pm, I began filling out paperwork. From 6:17pm to ~6:40pm, we waited for a supervisor to review my paperwork. At ~7:17pm, Daynef began examining my face. At ~7:45pm, she began examining the inside of my mouth. At ~8:16pm, Daynef began measuring my periodontal depths. At 8:56pm, Daynef discharged me with a referral. She told me that, if I come back, they can do the actual cleaning and the xrays. 

I will not come back. 

If this were actually what was promised (a free cleaning, the only cost being that it takes 3hrs of my time instead of 1hr), I would be very happy. I downloaded a new audiobook today and haven’t yet established care with a new dentist (I recently moved, and my insurance is likely to change soon). But three hours for no cleaning is an abject failure. 

Yet again, Brooklyn disappoints. 

I enjoy enjoying paying

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Today I had a fun negotiation. My contractor said that he had invoiced me ahead of time for the plumbing because the plumber needs to buy materials. He asked if I could pay this ahead of time. (He usually invoices me at the end of the week for work that was completed that week, as per our contract.) 

I expressed my confusion. I asked a few questions: 

  1. What topics will he want me to pre-pay? 
  2. How does this work, considering I paid a larger-than-normal deposit (30% instead of the normal 20%)? 

He explained the position. 

Then, I said… no! 

It was a kind and friendly no. I was emotionally authentic and effusive. The best line was when I said, “I like paying you. I like looking at the things we’ve completed over the last week and feeling excited about it. This would be a different setup.” 

I also gave him an out. I said, “If it’s an emergency, I’m happy to re-consider this. But right now the process is working well for me, so I’d like it to continue.” 

I debriefed with Partner afterwards. Partner thought my “no” was just that we had a deal structured in a particular way, so continuing that way is good for record-keeping. The real underlying motivation is one of leverage. If I paid my contractor entirely upfront, who knows if they’ll actually show up to do the work? I like to think people take pride in their work and follow-through on their obligations, but good contracts make good working relationships the same way good fences make good neighbors. 

I once heard someone in therapy-world describe something like “Boundaries are the lines that enable me to love myself and you”. This setup is similar: these financial boundaries and processes allow me to feel excited when I pay my contractor. They allow me to gush about the work he’s doing, and to feel delighted by it instead of worried. 

We left it at “If it’s a problem, he’ll tell me.” And if it is a problem, I’m open to solving it. But this particular draw-down should be out of his account, not mine. 

So I’ll continue paying after completion, and I’ll continue enjoying paying him. 

The light goes out in my designer’s eyes

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My designer waved the white flag. 

After two months of haggling over specific lighting, he has assented that Partner & I are boss. He literally said, “I lose.” 

I didn’t want him to lose. I don’t think him feeling like he has lost is helpful for anyone. But I also don’t want to pay an extra $14,000 on lighting. I’d rather have a visible flange. So yes, he loses. 

Partner was the key technical driver here. In some areas, I’ve been the pusher (raising the ceilings, which Partner was skeptical about but is now excited for; getting a deep tub; ensuring the island countertop is 34” tall, so it’s ergonomic for Partner’s cooking). In this area, Partner’s prior technical knowledge of lighting (she was a professional theatrical lighting designer in a past life) lends itself to this new domain. 

The final straw: learning that the second-tier lighting suggested by the showroom has a beam of ~4 feet in diameter at 6 feet high, while the lighting we found has a beam of ~13 feet in diameter at the same level. The same cost gets us approximately the same lighting specs, but pi*6.5^2 = 133sqft of light vs 12sqft, or 10x the amount of light. 

Yes, there’s more to light than the amount of light (or else we’d just light the whole apartment with floodlights), but we’ve already checked those traits! They’re approximately equivalent on every other element, just these have visible flanges! 

So today, my designer assented to purchasing the lights we described. He is seeking someone to buy them from. (Why he won’t just buy them from the website I found previously, I don’t know.) 

10x the light, 10x my happiness, and 300 copies of future board games. 

Here’s to holding your ground. 

Thanks, Partner. I couldn’t have done it without you. 

The brighter move is caring less

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My designer is deeply passionate about the aesthetics of recessed lighting fixtures. This passion provides me a valuable point of power. I hadn’t even known I had this power, but basically it’s the power of caring less. The gist: 

My designer wants me to have a specific brand of ceiling lighting fixtures. I am open to using his brand of lighting, but I’m also fine with a slightly cheaper brand with a small visible flange around each recessed light. He enjoys a trade discount of 30% on these lights. He wants to charge me 10% below MSRP for the lights. If I buy the lights through him, I’d happily pay some amount of money – 10% of the total lighting price after the 30% trade discount is applied – for him to deal with lights on my behalf. 

But I’d also be equally happy just ordering lights myself… in which case he 1) makes no money, and 2) feels much less satisfied by the lighting in the apartment. 

I don’t care about the flange! I will not care about the flange! Certainly not at the costs we’re discussing. 

But he does, so we could have a deal. 

Against Middlemen 

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My project manager/apartment designer sent me on a wild goose chase because he likes pretty things and I like money. 

I left his office at 3:45pm. Partner & I walked the 20 minutes to the lighting showroom for our 4:45 appointment. It was hot. Partner was grumpy due to lack of food (an all-liquid diet will do that to you, especially if you make the mistake of giving away your protein shake). At 4:15pm, my designer texted to cancel: see, the showroom closes at 5pm, so what about a meeting on Thursday? I told him tomorrow (Wednesday) is good but Thursday is no good. See: we have an appointment with my designer’s boss on Thursday, and I really want the lighting nailed down before then. Partner has already designed a new lighting package, so this whole experience of look-at-this-new-lighting-package feels like a wild goose chase to me anyway. It’s all because my designer wants no visible flange around my lights, while I want 1.5% of a million-dollar farm upstate. 

Having already walked to the showroom (and being an impish sort of fellow), I entered anyway. After a 5-minute wait, I spotted the same saleswoman who had previously helped me. I asked her about the 4:45pm meeting. She said there never had been a 4:45pm meeting. 

Aha. 

I asked her if she had designed the new lighting package that my designer mentioned. She said yes. 

Me: “Could we schedule an appointment for tomorrow? Any time after 1pm.” 

Saleswoman: “Sure: I’m wide open anytime from 1pm. And you’re my top priority.”

Me: “Could you send me the product list and spec sheets ahead of time so I can research them?” 

Saleswoman: “We can only send it to your designer.”

Me: “That dramatically decreases the likelihood we will buy lights from you.” 

Saleswoman: “Sorry, it’s store policy.” 

When I shared this experience with Partner, she laughed and said wedding plans often have a password, to avoid e.g. the mother of the bride changing things. 

“That’s fair enough,” I said. “But I’m the bride!” 

I’ve heard it’s reasonably common in German culture for someone experiencing consumer anguish of this sort to say something like, “But I’m paying you money!” And maybe it’s my German genes, but that’s my natural response! 

If you’re not going to share your information with me, I won’t give you my money! I already am disinterested in the fact that you charge $20k for something that I could nearly mimic for $7k. And now you’re not going to share MY INFORMATION with me? It’s like a HIPAA violation, but for lighting showrooms! 

I emailed my designer. I started the conversation by requesting that he only tell me meetings are booked when they actually are booked. (Shots fired.) 

It’s even more frustrating because I don’t mind the flange. 

In reality, a small issue. The demolition on my apartment started yesterday, and is going swimmingly. The meeting with my designer and the owner of the contracting company went well. This is just one small drop in a sea of good news. 

And anyway, not giving them my money is the best revenge.