Too many choices drive this simple man crazy!

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

“I’m off to the shop lads. Want anything?”

“What’re you getting?”

“Tea, milk and something to munch on.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll have something hot. One of those chicken baguettes.”

“Sound, see you in a bit.”

As I wander around the corner to the shop I wonder why what I was going to buy in the shop made any difference to my mate. If I’d said I was going to buy chocolate biscuits or half a giraffe, would he have felt like eating something other than a chicken baguette?

The human mind is truly a wondrous thing, designed and primed to help us live long, prosper and ideally reproduce. Over millennia, our minds evolved to deal with choices that some time way back in our history would have meant the difference between life and death.

While there can be some ugly and aggressive beasts prowling the aisles of the corner store, I’m pretty unlikely to encounter a hungry sabre-toothed tiger at the deli counter. Given that we no longer live in fear of our lives every day, you’d think maybe our brains would have eased up on the decision-making.

Sadly, rather than grasping the chance to simplify things by disposing of pointless options, we’ve been beguiled by commercialism into unnecessarily complicating everything, by creating as many different choices as possible.

What first appears as too many choices can later make perfect sense. To virgin European ears, the endless options offered when ordering something to eat in America become, after practice, a simple and efficient way to eat exactly what you want.

Proud of their product and aiming to please, Americans really care that you buy exactly the sandwich you want, so you just learn to say “I’ll have the Hunter S. Andwich, with mayo, no butter, radicchio and rocket, no dressing, tomato, wild turkey, cranberry sauce not jelly, mustard and olives, on cracked wheat bread.”

Not so difficult really, but it’s so much simpler in Ireland; or is it?

“Hello!” says the smiley woman at the hot food counter. ‘“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a spicy chicken baguette please, with mayo and lettuce. That’s all thanks!”

As she toddles off to prepare the roll, I turn around to stare idly at muffins and take an unusual interest in the crisp selection, as I don’t want make her feel uncomfortable by staring at her.

“Do you want white or brown?”

Dammit. Forgot that. “White please.”

“And do you want butter or mayo?”

Told you that, though. I clearly remember saying mayo. Ah well. What price politeness? She’s the one stuck working while I’m spending the afternoon drinking tea with the lads, so why would I get grumpy with her over such a stupid little thing?

“Mayo please!” I reply, still smiling.

“Is it the spicy or the plain chicken that you’re after?”

To read Charlie’s full column, please see this weeks’ Galway City Tribune.