Free Predictably Irrational by Dr. Dan Ariely

deliberative and thoughtful process for my car selection, and I didn’t like the answer I got. So, I did what I think anyone in my position would do. I hit the back button a few times, backtracked to earlier stages of the interview process, and changed many of my original answers to what I convinced myself were more accurate and appropriate responses. I lowered my interest in safety and the number of passengers I wanted to take with me, and changed many of my answers to fit what I deemed a more appropriate motorcycle replacement. From time to time, I checked to see how the different responses translated into different recommendations.
    I kept this up until the car-advising Web site suggested a Mazda Miata. The moment the program was kind enough to recommend a small convertible, I felt grateful for the fantastic software and decided to follow its advice. A few weeks later, I became the proud owner of a Miata, which served me loyally for many years.
    W HAT HAPPENED HERE? On one hand, I knew that buying a car was no trivial matter, and I wanted to approach such a large decision by carefully weighing the cost and benefits in a cold, calculated, and sensible way. At the same time, I knew I was making an important and symbolic move into adulthood, and I understood that kids and the inevitable minivan (which I drive these days) were awaiting me. Nevertheless, my brain and my heart were engaged in a practical tug-of-war. Deep down, what I really wanted was a car that felt closer to a motorcycle—something that was fun to drive.
    Taking the systematic and calculated approach to solving this problem did not yield the “correct” answer, so I went back and fudged around with my responses, letting the computerized method rationalize my choice for me. This way, I ended up with a decision that made me happy, and at the same time, it was a decision that I could easily explain to myself. With a neat and programmed computerized process, it was now obvious why the small convertible was, in fact, the right choice for me.
    This elaborate computerized justification process might seem artificial and extreme, but I suspect that the same basic elements end up playing out in many of our important decisions. This experience taught me that sometimes we want our decisions to have a rational veneer when, in fact, they stem from a gut feeling—what we crave deep down. I suspect that in our attempts to make sure that we end up with decisions that seem well-reasoned and thoughtful, we commonly undergo a lot of unnecessary mental gymnastics and justifications, particularly when the choices are large and significant. Sometimes these rationalizations are complex and time-consuming, and sometimes we have the benefit of a software program to help us with more efficient rationalization. Perhaps this was the real function of the Web site I used—it was not necessarily designed to help me make a better decision, but to help me justify my choice and feel confident about it.
    In the end, following our gut feelings and rationalizing them after the fact is not always bad. It can sometimes lead us to pick a satisfactory outcome or, at the very least, prevent us from ending up with a car we really don’t want.

CHAPTER 3

The Cost of Zero Cost
    Why We Often Pay Too Much When
We Pay Nothing
    H ave you ever grabbed for a coupon offering a FREE ! package of coffee beans—even though you don’t drink coffee and don’t even have a machine with which to brew it? What about all those FREE ! extra helpings you piled on your plate at a buffet, even though your stomach had already started to ache from all the food you had consumed? And what about the worthless FREE ! stuff you’ve accumulated—the promotional T-shirt from the radio station, the teddy bear that came with the box of Valentine chocolates, the magnetic calendar your insurance agent sends you each year?
    It’s no secret that getting something free feels very good. Zero