Max Gutmann explains why we should be paying more attention to having experiences.
I like artichokes. Scraping each leaf against my bottom teeth is a tasty, healthy-feeling chore, an enjoyable way to earn the reward of the subtly delicious heart underneath. The heart without the chore feels like an extravagant treat, and I’d indulge frequently except that artichoke hearts sold or served without the leaves and stem tend to be pickled, which dulls and disguises the flavor. When artichoke hearts began appearing on pizza, I was enthusiastic.
I so loved the idea of combining these two favorites that I ordered the topping several times before realizing that what was on the pizza didn’t have that artichoke flavor I loved, that artichoke hearts on pizza were, back then at least, usually pickled. Recognizing this error made me feel unusually stupid. How could I have failed to taste what I had been eating?
But I’ve come to realize that allowing an idea to blot out an experience is fairly common. We stay in unfulfilling jobs and relationships; we spend lots of time online, doom scrolling, playing games and doing other unrewarding things; we continue to support politicians who forget their campaign promises until they’re running again for re-election. And part of the reason for each of these life-diminishing behaviors, I’m convinced, is being so attached to an idea—the job title, clickbait’s promise, what the politician claims to represent—that we don’t pay enough attention to our actual experience.
Advertisers understand and exploit this. “Don’t sell the steak,” their mantra goes, “sell the sizzle.” They know that if the sizzle captures our imagination, a lot of us won’t bother to notice whether the steak is any good at all.