And then, were you able to take a vacation this summer?
For my part, my family broke their little pig to go to Europe, where we had not been for more than a decade.
Even though our vacation was great, we have memories and far too many photos in our phones, I’m not one to be brooding when I get home. Quite the contrary.
For example, I like to go running on Mount Royal. But I admit that after a while it ceases to fascinate me: I notice it less.
My mind knows it’s beautiful. But the immediate side of beauty no longer strikes me. Gradually, I began to compare a jogging outing on Mount Royal with what it would be like in the Laurentians, for example. And I realize that Mount Royal has its limits.
But after running in major cities in France this summer, I returned to Mount Royal. And then I understood.
What metropolis of more than 4 million people in the world has at its center a gigantic explosion of greenery where the vegetation is so dense? Where can one find coolness and tranquility so easily? Where can you take such beautiful photos of squirrels? (OK, forget the last line.)
By comparing Mount Royal to the Laurentians, I was under the influence of what psychologists call availability bias. This is the bias that consists of using immediately available information as benchmarks, rather than seeking to broaden our field of comparison by discovering new information.
Today, I compare Mount Royal to what you find in European cities. Cities that have magnificent parks, but where buildings have for centuries swallowed up an area the size of Mount Royal.
In short, I realize that the availability bias was secretly working to dampen my mood. Not very much. Just a little bit.
This bias permeates all sorts of facets of our daily lives and undermines our ability to be happy.
But that’s not what we do. Our point of comparison is not 1923, but 2023. It comes in the form of our friends, colleagues, neighbors, as well as the people we observe on social networks. And regardless of our income, we can always compare with one or more people who have a greater lifestyle than us.
It is for this reason that living among wealthy people when you belong to the middle class is bad for your mental health, as demonstrated in a study1 carried out several years ago by researchers at the University of Warwick and Cardiff University, UK.
It is that our standard of living will always be a little below that of our reference group, and we will never have the impression of living as we should.
The Bloomberg site explored this phenomenon this summer in a file entitled “Are you rich? (Are you rich? in French) 2.
The journalists interviewed people who earn more than US$175,000 (C$235,000) a year, who are among the top 10% of Americans, but who don’t feel rich. For what ? Quite simply because in comparison with the people around them, they do not have such a remarkable lifestyle.
A 33-year-old man interviewed in the article who travels a lot and frequents good restaurants said: “10 years ago, if I had known that I would make as much money as today, I would have been flabbergasted . I would have said that I was living life to the fullest. Today, although I am financially secure, I don’t feel like I am earning much. »
To earn $235,000 CAD per year is to have access to a silver geyser that 99% of the humans who have lived on this planet have never been able to contemplate.
Whether we are rich or not, we must force ourselves to look at what we have and realize how privileged we are. Let’s even take a few moments to think about how it would feel if we lost all of that overnight.
I use the word “force” because our brain won’t do it on its own: it can’t. His role is to always want more. More experiences. More possessions. More novelties.
This reflex has long served us well: without it, humans would still dwell in damp caves. But in the modern world, this automatism gets carried away and causes unnecessary frustration and anxiety.
I read a sentence recently that said, “If you’re not happy with a coffee, you won’t be happy with a yacht.” »
At 20, this sentence would have made me laugh. Today, I only have to look around me to see its accuracy.
Speaking of happiness, I enjoyed reading you last week about automobiles. I suggested spending 10% of your household income to buy a vehicle.
René writes: “I bought my vehicle last year, a 2011 Subaru Outback for $3500 that a friend was selling to buy an F-250 pickup truck for almost $100,000. My income last year was $180,000, and I can tell you that my car does just fine! »
Benoît writes: “At 60, I have never bought a new car, and my financial assets have exceeded one million for more than 10 years. I buy 4-5 year old used vehicles with around 80,000 km on the odometer, and I keep them until the odometer hits 250,000 km. I currently drive a Chevrolet Volt, a plug-in hybrid car that costs me $400 in gas per 20,000 km. »
I had also sensed that I would be yelled at, and I was not disappointed.
Martin writes: “Really? Take an average annual income and suggest a purchase over a 5 or 10 year period? Wow! And we end by saying that we are a shareholder of Volkswagen and others… Well yes, you little boaster, I too have been a shareholder of Tesla for 7 years… That does not give me the right to try to ridicule people. »
I don’t believe I was dismissive – unless you’re a leather seat or 4X4 of the year. As for being boastful, I was going to defend myself, but I started this text by bragging about my trip to Europe and jogging. Found guilty.
