An Anecdote and Lesson on Sunk Cost

A few years ago we bought this carpet cleaner from Bissell, spending around $300 for something that was supposed to take the pain out of cleaning our dog's urine. As it so happened, this particular carpet cleaner never lived up to the hype that the floor salesman was claiming. The problem wasn't with the cleaning component itself— that worked fine. The problem was two-fold: every time I cleaned up a spot, the machine would leave behind a trail of soapy residue. When I went to clean this up, there was another patch of soapy residue, waiting for me to clean. When I finally finished, then I would pick up the machine and bring it back to the closet. On the way, a trail of leaking water was left behind. Was it clean? Was it dirty? Frankly, I didn't have the heart to find that out.

For 3 years this carpet cleaner brought me a great deal of distress. I dreaded every time a mess hit the carpets, but it was never because of the mess itself. It was solely because of the aforementioned issues with the machine itself. I kept telling myself over and over again, about how this machine should Just Work™. I thought about how much it cost, and how recent of a purchase it was... No. Continuing this horrible and corrosive relationship was the only course of action I could reasonably take.

And then, the worst night of our relationship happened...

It was the usual story. The call came in: puke stain on the second floor. So I went to the basement to grab the carpet cleaner, and brought it up the stairs, leaving behind its characteristic trail of water of unknown origins. On arriving at the stain, I went to work. To my chagrin (but not to my surprise), I could see that the nozzle was not properly spraying water, so I used the backup hose.

What happened next is something that I'd hoped would never have to recount.

As I went to hook up the hose to the machine, a stream of brown sludgy liquid that had been fermenting inside the tube extricated itself in one foul swoop all over the carpet. Jaw to the floor, I slowly turned my head toward the machine that had betrayed me so many times.

Then it all happened so fast... I violently yanked the machine by its neck, marched down the stairs towards the garage (probably screaming a few expletives along the way), and threw it in the corner with as much force as I could muster. The 80 pound machine flew through the air and at last, hit the hard, cold pavement of the garage floor.

It didn't explode into dramatic oblivion as I was hoping. But some plastic pieces snapped out of place, I determined after a cursory and apathetic inspection that is was broken beyond use. I had finally taken the step that I should have taken years ago.

Immediately after the spur-of-the-moment murder, I went online to look at replacement machines. After thoroughly researching what the best machine was, I found the eventual replacement: a different model of Bissell. The difference was that this one was a handheld machine for spot cleaning. With great hesitancy, I placed the order and it arrived a few days later. Within the first use, I could tell that this machine was going to be that pleasure to use than I had been looking for years prior. I have used it several times since, and each time has given me that same pleasure. I finally felt happy and satisfied with my carpet cleaner.

What can be gained from all of this?

So clearly this is me succumbing to sunk cost fallacy. But here's the thing: I didn't just learn about this concept as a result of this experience. I've known about it since picking it up in economics class well over 10 years ago. I would have gotten this question right on a test, but I still failed miserably in the real world.

This has lately been a topic of interest to me. How can we know things, yet fail to recognize their application to what's in front of us? All the self-improvement books in the world aren't going to help us if we fail to recognize their lessons in the real world.

I believe that examining this failure reveals a shortcoming in my ability to have properly drawn an abstraction. Learning a concept is one thing, but without the abstraction, the knowledge has very limited value. When someone teaches you about a concept like Sunk Cost Fallacy, you can walk away with the ability to pass the test. But to gain a more comprehensive understanding, we need to see examples, and notice what is common among them. Putting a spotlight on these commonalities allows us to have a greater understanding of the abstraction, leading us to recognize it in the real world in an entirely novel context.

So here's my lesson: when learning some new piece of information, it's worth asking the question, "Do I really understand, or could I only just pass the test?".