I was very interested in the story of King Midas as a child. I think my aunt read me the story and I was deliciously frightened by how the touch of gold could end one's life. I think that version had the King touching a beloved son and unhappily turning him into a statue of gold. How could such a cursed/??blessed person even eat? Maybe with a gold knife and fork and no touching with the fingers. But was it just the fingers? How come? Worries and wonders!
I did think I was warned sufficiently by the story that I would not succumb to silly greed during life but would spend my time and energy enjoying all the delights of life, not just the accumulation of treasure. But lately, I surprised myself in the very act of loving each dollar and finding parting from any one of the little dears painful, depressing, insulting. How dare life send me expenses and needs and desires requiring expenditure?
Much like my pleasure in Midas, I got a kick out of the example in Healthy Pleasures by the excellent Robert Ornstein and David Sobel. They are discussing "context", the importance of the background or surround. The effect is related to "anchoring", the idea that an alternative purchase that costs less than our first consideration seems cheaper than the same purchase for the same price, if the second one is twice as costly as our first thought. They say to picture yourself working happily at your desk, when the boss comes over and announces that they have had their eyes on you and are aware of what a valuable employee you are. He is there to deliver the news that your recent performance has earned you a $100 bonus. He hands you the money. Wow! How fortunate!
Then, they alter the scenario a little. Everything is the same except the boss says something different. You still get handed $100 for the same fine reason but the boss says he wanted to give you $500 but the big boss balked so you are only going to get $100. Damn! A minute before you were happy and contented. Now, you find you are out $400, money you never had but the (imaginary) loss is still painful.
Clearly, what we get used to affects us. We have some savings and I look at the balance in that account happily, congratulating myself on our thriftiness. So, when the house or something needs fixing or replacing, what else did we save those funds for? Using them on that purpose is right on target, just what we planned. Still, it hurts. My beloved balance has fallen. Woe is me.
