Last week, I bought a 15-euro plumber’s wrench to fix the wheels on our grill. Initially, we had screwed them in by hand, but that wasn’t enough, and they’d already come off once. If I never use that wrench again, was it worth it?
Buyer’s guilt is a game we play entirely in our heads. We see a product presented with all its clever applications, and when we only rely on one of them, we feel like we’re missing out. Actually, no one cares. There are no written standards for getting your money’s worth. It is 100% subjective. You decide.
Maybe you only use your genius chopping-and-slicing tool to dice tomatoes. So what? Are you happy when you can dice tomatoes more quickly? Then all is well. You don’t have to squeeze 100 oranges every day for a juicer to be worth it, and even if the design software is only good for one logo, that logo might still make all the difference.
There’s no need to feel guilty when you’re already content. “Enough” is a wonderful thing. I’ll gladly pay 15 euros to have peace of mind each time I push my grill across uneven tiles, because “max potential” is only in our minds — and if there’s anything worth stretching, it is not our tools, but us.