#Tyranny of choice how to#
#Tyranny of choice free#

#Tyranny of choice how to#

How to balance your duty to keep your clients “ reasonably informed” and “ abide by decisions concerning the objectives of representation” while not being merely a potted plant? And don’t even think about shopping for toothpaste unless you’ve got paid leave.įor lawyers, this poses a dilemma. Today, one can spend weeks browsing the cereal aisle at Harris Teeter. “Omee!” cried Rudy, but I was prepared for him too, with a packet of Quaker Oats Brown Sugar & Cinnamon oatmeal in his bowl and ready for the microwave.īut those were simpler times. “Whatever Dad wants!” cried Mary Ann, still the sweetest. “All of them!” cried Rachel, still causing trouble. “Which of these three delicious and nutritious cereals do you want for breakfast?” I asked, channeling the masterful Monty Hall as I gestured to the boxes on display.

They can only select Door Number One, Two or Three.Īnd Eureka! The Emperor of Eggs (and Bacon) was back in business. In the final round, contestants aren’t given unlimited doors to choose from. In Contracts 101, our professor used the game show Let’s Make a Deal to illustrate the principles of offer and acceptance. The answer, it turned out, lay in the superb education I received at the University of South Carolina Law School. But how to climb out of this breakfast hole I’d dug for myself? Of course I knew ice cream was not a sustainable solution.

“Yay,” cried all except Rudy, who began sobbing as he continued to demand Omee. And then, just when things started to get ugly, inspiration struck. But there was no escaping this ravenous brood. Outnumbered and overmatched, I considered fleeing. “Omee!” cried Rudy, who was pre-verbal but meant oatmeal, the only food he would eat. “Whatever Dad wants to fix!” cried Mary Ann, the only compassionate one in the lot. “Eggs Benedict topped with hollandaise, asparagus and a sprig of fresh mint!” cried Rachel, the troublemaker. “French toast!” cried Bo, the next in line. “What do you want for breakfast?” I asked the next morning. After a home screening of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure – with endless VHS replays of the Breakfast Machine scene, which my children found inexplicably hilarious – I anointed myself Emperor of Eggs (and Bacon). I lay most of the blame at the bicycle-pedaling feet of Pee-Wee Herman. I was introduced to the Tyranny of Choice way back in the early ‘90s, when my hair was abundant, my law practice booming, and my family was run by five tiny tyrants who demanded total submission – especially at breakfast time. The sheer number of choices had been exhausting and paralyzing. After hours of scouring Netflix for something to watch – viewing countless Adam Sandler trailers, combing through the Recently Added list, wondering whether to Watch It Again – we finally gave up and went to bed.

Just the other night, my wife and I fell prey to this tyranny. Your job is to supply the map, point out different routes to the destination, and let them choose.īut while some choice is better than none, more can mean misery, as psychologist Barry Schwartz showed in his influential 2004 study The Tyranny of Choice.

#Tyranny of choice free#

Here’s some free advice: if you want to make your clients happy, don’t give them too many choices.