The stupidity of indefinitely delayed gratification

Let's attempt to debunk a myth

We’ve all heard the sermon on the mount preaching the benefits of delayed gratification.

The 1972 marshmallow test, conducted by Stanford professor Walter Mischel, makes a convincing case. If a kid can resist the urge to eat one marshmallow now in exchange for two marshmallows later, they are more likely to be “successful” (whatever that means). Although, probably not quite as healthy.

Photo by Rebecca Freeman on Unsplash

But what if we turned the dial up a few notches?

• Delay one hundred marshmallows, receive two hundred.

• Delay two thousand marshmallows, receive four thousand.

• Delay four million marshmallows, receive eight million.

• Ad infinitum.

Extend this long enough and we become conditioned to resist thousands, perhaps millions, of marshmallows in the hopes of more in some distant future. Eventually exiting the gene pool without eating any marshmallows. How pathetic.

All that sweet delayed gratification, but for what?

I’ve yet to see a tombstone that reads, “Here lies a man who accumulated millions of marshmallows but never discovered what they taste like.”

The same is true for our money.

I want to (selfishly) explore the stupidity of indefinitely delayed gratification a bit further. Mainly because I long considered myself holier-than-thou since this feat came naturally to me. Which may sound strange since I was born in the land of instant gratification (formerly known as America), but if you know the struggle then let’s continue.

The high priests of personal finance have proselytized the idea of delayed gratification far and wide. Not to name any names, but one rhymes with Shmave Shmansey.

Sacrifice guaranteed enjoyment of a marshmallow today and pray you live long enough to start snacking on them after you’ve sufficiently hoarded enough.

I’m reminded of a day in kindergarten when Mrs. Kramb placed a bucket of colored pencils in the middle of our table. All the kids pounced like a pack of starving hyenas, except for one.

Mrs. Kramb noticed this and stopped the pupils furious scribbling to bring all eyes on me (as my face flushed).

The following day I was rewarded with my own personal bucket overflowing with colored pencils. The epitome of the marshmallow test.

I wasn’t the most popular, handsome, or athletic kid in the class. But I was crowned Mr. Delayed Gratification himself. And I hung my crown on that for far too long.

I thought I was winning the game by piling up more and more marshmallows. Refusing to touch any of them.

But do we really want to be lying on our deathbed with all these unused (and stale) marshmallows?

That’s a personal question. But one that is not asked enough.

It pains me to say this, but perhaps one marshmallow in the mouth is worth two in the bush?

Not convinced?

No worries, I’m not sure I am either.

Indefinitely delayed gratification is one of those (well-meaning) societal brainwashing attempts that ends up doing more harm than good.

And when it comes to marshmallows, I’m torn.

I want to build up a comfortable nest egg to ensure I don’t starve. While also wanting to eat a freakin’ marshmallow without feeling guilty. Because (as the Stoics knew) there’s always the chance that you and I could leave life right now.

If only we had a machine that told us when our final breath would be so we could make sure we die with zero marshmallows.

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So what now?

This is a baffling conundrum that doesn’t have a one-size-fits-all approach.

But at the very least, I hope you and I can be more mindful about this marshmallow collection game we’ve decided to play.

As Naval Ravikant said, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

The stupidity of indefinitely delayed gratification ensures one thing — having the most marshmallows of anyone in the graveyard.

Photo by Sophia Müller on Unsplash

Is that a game worth winning?

PS - For more on this fascinating topic, check out Bill Perkins book Die with zero.

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