For years, I have managed to sustain a running gag about how “Paper or plastic?” can keep me in suspense for several minutes, a metaphor for my lack of decisiveness. (At least, I think it’s a lack of decisiveness, but I’m not entirely sure.) Then again, the fear of buyer’s remorse can keep you, not only from buying, but from even showing up at the store:
It has taken me almost six years to pick out my “perfect” car because I cannot possibly decide between an SUV or a sedan with AWD. And what about the cup holders? Hmm? Decisions make me feel like things are final and once my mind has been made, I’m not allowed to go back. There’s no turning around because once something is done, it’s done. Right?
Well, it’s true of that particular decision, if only because the moment you sign the papers and drive off the lot, you’ve taken a major hit courtesy of the Gods of Depreciation, and the price of changing your mind at that point is excessively high.
Still, motor vehicles are not the only potential source of panic:
What if it doesn’t work out? I say. What if they don’t like it? What if I didn’t use the right words or this isn’t the right place or I didn’t do it right? They’ll hate it. This all comes before anything happens and so I spend much of my time gripped by fear by what “they” or even you might say.
I’d like to say that I’ve developed an immunity to that sort of thing, but no one would believe it. Especially me.