The Tyranny of 'What If?'

It’s noon on a Saturday. A simple, noble quest has been proposed: you and your friends will get sandwiches. This should be easy. It is, after all, just sliced stuff between bread. But then, the group chat begins.

“Okay, where to?” someone asks, a question so innocent, so pure, it will go down in history as the spark that ignited the great Sandwich War of 2025.

What follows is a multi-hour digital odyssey of existential despair. Links are shared for six different sandwich shops. Menus are screenshotted and dissected. Do you want the artisanal sourdough with locally sourced heritage turkey, or the vegan banh mi with a gluten-free baguette? What about that place with 47 different kinds of mustard? The debate rages on, a storm of “what are you in the mood for?” and “I don’t know, what are you in the mood for?” until finally, three hours later, paralyzed by the sheer weight of possibility, you all give up and order the same boring pizza you always get.

This feeling—this anxiety-ridden paralysis in the face of limitless options—is one of the defining maladies of modern life. We have more freedom and more choice than any humans in history. We can watch any movie ever made, listen to any song ever recorded, date anyone within a 50-kilometer radius, and choose from 114 different kinds of milk at the grocery store. We were promised that this infinite choice would lead to ultimate freedom and happiness.

So why does it so often feel like a trap? Why does choosing a Netflix show feel like a high-stakes exam you’re destined to fail?

Welcome to the Paradox of Choice. It’s a brilliant philosophical and psychological idea that explains why more choice doesn’t make us freer—it makes us more anxious, dissatisfied, and completely overwhelmed.

The Great Lie of the Infinite Menu

For centuries, the Western ideal of freedom was simple: more options equals more liberty. The ability to choose your own path, your own products, your own identity—that was the dream. And for a while, it worked. Going from having only one type of terrible, state-mandated coffee to having a choice between a few different brands was a genuine improvement.

Consumer capitalism and the internet took this idea and put it on steroids. The promise was total liberation through endless customization. You could build your own computer, design your own sneakers, and curate a life and personality that was perfectly, uniquely you. The menu of life became infinite. The problem is, no one told us that staring at an infinite menu for too long makes you want to just chew on your own hand.

A Breakdown of Your Breakdown in the Toothpaste Aisle

According to the psychologist Barry Schwartz, who popularized this idea, the wonderful dream of infinite choice quickly turns into a nightmare for four main reasons. Let’s call them the Four Horsemen of Choice Paralysis.

1. Paralysis (aka The Netflix Scroll of Doom): This is the most obvious one. When faced with too many options, our brains simply short-circuit. The cognitive load of trying to evaluate 500 different TV shows is so immense that making a decision becomes impossible. The fear of making the wrong choice becomes greater than the potential reward of making the right one. The result? You spend two hours scrolling, your food gets cold, and you end up just re-watching a show you’ve already seen five times because it’s a choice that requires zero brainpower.

2. Escalation of Expectations: When your local diner has two sandwiches on the menu, your expectations are reasonable. You just hope it’s not terrible. But when a deli boasts “over 200 artisanal combinations,” you don’t just expect a good sandwich. You expect the perfect sandwich. The Platonic ideal of a sandwich. A sandwich that will change your life and validate all your past decisions. With infinite options, our expectations inflate to impossible levels, virtually guaranteeing that whatever we choose will feel like a slight disappointment.

3. Regret and Anticipated Regret (The Ghost of Tacos Past): With more options, it’s easier to feel buyer’s remorse. You’re eating your pretty-good burrito, but your mind is tormented by the ghosts of the choices you abandoned. “This is good,” your brain whispers, “but what if the tacos at that other place were 10% more satisfying? What if the ramen bowl would have delivered a more authentic and fulfilling lunch experience?” You’re not just eating one meal; you’re being haunted by all the meals you didn’t eat.

4. Self-Blame: This is the cruelest twist. If you go to a town with only one terrible restaurant and you have a terrible meal, you can blame the town. It’s not your fault. But if you’re in a city with 5,000 restaurants, you spend six hours researching on Yelp, and you still end up with a mediocre meal… who is to blame? You. Your freedom of choice has become a crushing burden of personal responsibility for your own happiness. Your failure to find the perfect sandwich is now a reflection of your failure as a person.

Which Kind of Choice-Anxiety Gremlin Are You?

Schwartz identifies two main personality types when it comes to choice, and you’re probably one of them.

The Maximizer: This is the person who is obsessed with making the absolute best possible choice, every single time. They will read 37 reviews and watch four YouTube videos before buying a new spatula. They will cross-reference three different dating apps to ensure they are going on a date with the most optimal human available. Maximizers are driven mad by the modern world. They are often less happy with their choices because they can never be sure they didn’t miss out on something slightly better.

The Satisficer: This is the person who has standards, but once they find an option that is “good enough” to meet them, they pull the trigger and move on with their life. They buy the first pair of jeans that fits well and is in their budget. They pick a movie that looks decent and don’t worry about the 500 others they could be watching. Satisficers are generally happier, less stressed, and have way more free time to do things other than compare brands of blenders. The goal is to become a proud, reformed satisficer.

Your Phone: A Pocket-Sized Engine of Infinite Anxiety

This paradox isn’t new, but modern technology has turned it from a philosophical problem into our minute-to-minute reality.

• Dating Apps: Welcome to the illusion of an infinite buffet of potential partners. This leads to endless, low-stakes swiping and a crippling inability to commit, because what if someone even more perfect is just one more swipe away?

• Streaming Services: A once-unified TV Guide has shattered into a dozen competing platforms, each with a library so vast it’s designed to induce scrolling paralysis. We have more to watch than ever, and we’ve never been more bored.

• Social Media: We are now constantly exposed to the curated “perfect” choices of everyone we’ve ever met. We see their perfect vacations, perfect relationships, and perfect avocado toast, which amplifies our own regret and FOMO (Fear of Missing Out).

• Career Paths: The stable, one-job-for-life model is gone. Now, we’re told to build a “personal brand” out of a "portfolio" of side hustles, passion projects, and gig work. This sounds like freedom, but it feels like being the perpetually stressed-out CEO of You, Inc.

How to Escape the Prison of Choice: Learning to Love 'Good Enough'

So how do we break free? We can’t go back to a world with only one kind of sandwich. But we can learn to navigate this world without losing our minds.

1. Choose When to Choose. Don’t treat every decision like it’s a life-or-death matter. Put your deep research energy into the big stuff: your career, your relationships, your values. For the small stuff, actively limit your choices. Pick a “go-to” takeout order. Buy the same brand of toothpaste every time. Automate the trivial decisions to free up brainpower for what actually matters.

2. Become a Proud Satisficer. This is the key. Before you make a choice, decide what your criteria for “good enough” are. “I want a sandwich that is under $15, within a 10-minute walk, and not actively on fire.” Find the first place that meets those criteria and commit. Then—and this is the hardest part—do not look back. Do not check the menu of the place next door. The deed is done.

3. Impose Your Own Rules. Your brain craves limits. Give it some. “I will only spend 10 minutes looking for a movie on Netflix, and then I have to pick one, even if it’s terrible.” “I will only look at two articles before buying a new coffee maker.” Freedom isn’t the absence of rules; it’s the ability to set your own.

4. Practice Gratitude (I know, I know, but listen). This sounds like something on a cheesy motivational poster, but it’s the direct antidote to regret. Once you’ve made a choice, consciously focus on what’s good about it. “This burrito is delicious. I love cilantro. I am happy to be eating this burrito.” This simple act starves the “what if” gremlin in your brain.

The Joy of Missing Out

The goal isn't to eliminate choice. It’s to reclaim our freedom from the overwhelming burden of infinite, meaningless choices. True liberty isn’t having 1,000 options on a menu; it's choosing one, enjoying it with people you love, and not giving a single thought to the other 999.

In a world obsessed with FOMO, the ultimate act of rebellion is to embrace JOMO—the Joy of Missing Out. It’s the liberating realization that you don’t have to see everything, do everything, and optimize everything to have a full and wonderful life. You just have to choose your little corner of it and decide that it is enough.