“I’m way outta line.”
- worst behavior, Ariana Grande
In an era where time is a rare commodity, the idea that we’re living in an attention-deficit world is bit of a cliché. You can find it in those road-to-sucsess books bought at the airport, academic papers in psychology or economics, and even in my favorite public speaking guide, which dedicates a chapter to the topic.
Though we still have the same 24 hours in a day as we did a century ago, the increase in productivity has made the opportunity cost of our time higher than ever before. This has led to a strong temptation to multitask, as we fear falling behind if we don’t make the most of our time. For example, as my advisor mentioned an interesting psychology lecture he listened to during his morning commute, it inspired the idea for today’s blog. I, too, am multitasking during my stochastic process class to jot down this idea. Even in my blog, I attempt to pack multiple ideas into a single sentence.
Well, scarcity is a boon for economics but a bane for us.
Anyway, let’s return to the main topic: the (perhaps) most impatient group in the world is
Undergrads in an Econ lab.
If you’re an experimental economist, you’re likely familiar with what I’m referring to. Undergrad kids are placed in front of a computer screen for an hour or two, compensated with a carefully calculated monetary sum determined by their savvy economics professors (the minimum monetary value required to attract enough participants and keep their incentives aligned with the experiment’s goals).
As a result, they are impatient due to the lengthy series of lottery choices and the distractions stemming from the opportunity cost of their time. Speaking as an undergrad myself, I can confidently assert that we are always thinking about something else during these experiments.
Furthermore, these undergrads can be quite nasty. There exists a notable gap between the mindset of undergraduates in a lab and that of adults making real-life decisions involving lifetime choices or substantial financial investments. Faced with an array of weird lotteries or auction choices repeatedly presented on a computer screen, and with rewards sometimes drastically discounted (for instance, asking you to make a decision based on hundred-dollar-scale but then reducing the reward to a mere $0.2), you might find yourself thinking, “Why bother? I’ll just go with the most absurd option they offer. Screw it.”