Do I Really Need It?

Do I Really Need It?

By Matthew Adler

Louisiana State University

Yep, I really do need it. At least that’s what I told myself when I made the background of my laptop an image of a green 2009 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited. When I was in high school, one of my teachers told me that if I really wanted something, I needed to envision myself with that thing every day. At the age of fifteen, all I could envision myself doing was driving an oversized, big-wheeled Wrangler to school. I figured the best way to imagine myself doing that was to look at it every day on my computer. Every time I woke up my MacBook Pro (with the extra hard drive space for large movie downloads and additional speed for watching Netflix and studying for exams simultaneously) from its nightly sleep, I

saw a high definition photo of a sparkling Wrangler scaling a rocky Colorado mountainside on a perfect summer day with only three of its four dirt-filled tires grazing the ground. I had to have it.

But, why did I want a Jeep? In all honesty, the majority of my driving when I turned sixteen consisted of my trip from home to school and the reverse after track practice in the evening. There were plenty of other sports utility vehicles that could have made the forty-five minute trek on Interstate 10 through Louisiana’s capital city during afternoon traffic. What did the Jeep Wrangler with the brute towing capacity, the unparalleled four-wheel drive experience, and the classic ruggedness have that other SUV’s did not?

I knew with a Jeep I would have the opportunity a few times a year to take it off the paved road, and I would never have to worry about what it could handle. I knew if a friend ever called me to bail him out of a muddy sink hole that my vehicle would be able to handle getting him out of the bind. I wanted it for the few times I may need the unnecessary features the average Jeep possesses that I would only use three times a year. I was afraid that if I did not have a Jeep I would regret not having those qualities in my SUV.

In his article titled “Range Rover: If You Must Buy A Luxury SUV…” Dan Niel of The Wall Street Journal discussed how car makers have coined the term “contingency anxiety” to mean the urge to buy an over-equipped vehicle for the case the buyer may possibly use the extra features the automobile comes stocked with. It is the fear of not having that something extra in a product you may or may not use but would feel pleased knowing you have it.  It’s that urge you get right before you decide to buy something you could go without. Companies in competitive markets, like the automobile industry, market their products to the public by highlighting the features they have that the competition doesn’t. They emphasize the qualities their product possesses that make it that much more desirable.

Contingency anxiety is the guilt that forces us into buying something based on the extra amenities that we may not ever use. What if there’s one day I need them? We usually ask ourselves this just before we buy that tool set with the thirty-five different socket wrenches, the watch with the capability to submerge ten atmospheres below the surface of the earth, the pair of flip flops with the bottle opener on the bottom of the rubber sole, or the purse with a universal phone charger on the inside.

The release of that anxiety comes from the justification in our minds that we will use that feature one day and be happy we bought the product for that special reason. I did end up getting a Jeep Wrangler for my sixteenth birthday, and I am completely happy with it six years later. Sure, it may get 11.4 miles per gallon, continue to be loud enough to have to yell to hear the person next to you when exceeding speeds over sixty five miles per hour, and rattle and clank while strolling through campus; but, I am a satisfied customer when I get to say I am part of the Louisiana 4x4 Club and take my Jeep trail riding every Christmas break to show off its muscle in the mud. It’s a great feeling when my idiot friends call me at three o’clock in the morning, and they are two feet deep in sloshy gunk behind the abandoned movie theater on Siegen Lane because they know I can retrieve their two wheeled truck and save them the embarrassment of calling mom and dad. I satisfied my anxiety through the decision to have the option to take my vehicle off-roading. And I don’t think I am the only person who has ever given into this form of materialistic desire.

My adoring sister shared her story of a recent shopping experience that made me question the marketing and pricing strategy of women’s apparel retailers. She was on the hunt for the perfect little dress that she could wear to her good friend’s wedding. In the little boutique conveniently located in the shopping center behind our family home, two surprisingly similar dresses in the window caught her eye. Of course, she had to try them on. The smiling college girl working the shop floor explained the main difference between the two overpriced pieces of fabric was the extra stitching in one of them that produced convenient pockets. After trying both of the dresses on, she quickly determined that pockets were the way to go. She could think of multiple occasions when a dress pouch would have come in handy. The sales clerk left the big detail to the end expressing her choice was unfortunately twice the price.