Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 97

Tough trucks for shoppers and errands

The bestselling vehicle in the United States is the Ford F-150.But according to surveys done of Ford F-150 drivers over the last ten years, they use their trucks primarily, and oftentimes exclusively, for shopping, errands, pleasure driving, and commuting.But if this is the case, there are far more practical, fuel-efficient vehicles on the market for these activities, including SUVs and minivans. Why not purchase a more fuel-efficient, practical vehicle for their lifestyle?

The answer, at least according to market research, lies in consumers’ self-image.

“Today, personality and imagery are playing an even more important role in how consumers choose which truck is right for them,” Strategic Vision researcher Alexander Edwards reports.

The firm surveys vehicle owners each year about the character traits they associate with their vehicles.

Two words set F-150 owners apart:

“Powerful” and “Rugged”

These adjectives may describe the Ford F-150 well, but they are hardly required – nor are they traditionally associated – with activities like commuting to work, shepherding children to school, shopping for groceries, dropping off the dry cleaning, and picking up cupcakes for book club.

It turns out that when it comes to the vehicle we choose to own, many of us haven’t changed very much since our high school days:

We want to drive vehicles that make us look and feel cool, even if they are costing us more in fuel, contributing unnecessarily to climate change, and are less practical than many alternatives on the market.

I hardly blame Ford F-150 owners. Back in high school, I desperately wanted a Toyota SR5 with roll bars and halogen lamps.

Marty McFly’s truck.

Instead, I drive a minivan today because it’s a far more practical choice for our family.

Also, I stopped needing a cool car or desiring luxury name brands a long time ago.

But not everyone is as self-actualized as me.

Then again, I become petulant over dress codes, enjoy verbally sparring with strangers in public, and can’t not eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts in a single day, so maybe I have my own issues.

A little bit of grace

I arrived at Bradley International Airport at 5:00 AM on Sunday for my flight to Cleveland, expecting to find the airport empty.

I was sorely mistaken. In fact, I’ve never seen it busier. I can’t imagine why.

Adding to my problems, my TSA Precheck status was not added to my American Airlines ticket, thus requiring me to line up like a plebian in the cattle lines of security.

I wasn’t too concerned. I knew I would be cutting it close, but I had little doubt that I would make it to the gate before the door closed.

As I waited, I saw a couple making their way through the line, cutting person after person to get ahead. The man was young and looked worried. The woman, whose hand he was holding, also looked concerned. As they drew near me, I heard the man tell someone standing ahead of him that they were just starting their honeymoon, trying to catch a flight that would eventually bring them to Hawaii, and they had less than 15 minutes to get to the gate. “Can you please let us through?”

The man smiled and allowed the couple to cut ahead of them.

As they approach an older man behind me, the younger man made his appeal again, asking to cut through. The older man replied, “We all have a plane to catch, buddy. Wait your turn like the rest of us!”

I was so excited.

I can’t fix a damn thing. My hands can’t build or repair anything. I can’t hit a golf ball more than 170 yards. Can’t haggle with a salesperson to save my life. A bee sting can kill me, and enough mustard might do the job, too. I’ve never successfully tied a sheet bend.

But I know how to use my words. I am exceptionally adept at verbal sparring. I love to do battle with sentences.

It’s my superpower.

My brain works exceptionally quickly in a verbal confrontation. I see a multitude of options, choose wisely, and never lose my cool. I remember what was said, and I love turning another person’s words against them. I was a two-time Connecticut collegiate debate champion, and much to the dismay of my opponents, I never took notes during a debate. I adore confrontation and become overjoyed at the prospect of battling someone with my words.

So I was ready to blast this older man. My systems were rapidly coming online. Adrenaline was firing through my body. I was poised and primed for a verbal battle.

Seconds before I was ready to strike, a man to my left leaned closer to the older man and said, “I think that sometimes, in situations like this, people deserve a little grace. Don’t you?” His voice was soft. His volume was low. He was calm and almost serene, despite the commotion around us.

The older guy melted when he heard those words. Melted, I think, on the word “grace.” All the tension and anger in his body instantly disappeared. He actually smiled. It was kind of remarkable.

“You’re right,” the older man said. Then he turned to the young couple. “Go ahead, kid. Keep that wife of yours happy.”

I’ll never forget it.

I was going to come to the defense of the newlyweds with weaponized words, biting sarcasm, and a desire to make that older man feel small and stupid. I was excited about the opportunity, more for my personal enjoyment than for the benefit of the newlyweds.

My plan was to have some fun while also doing some good.

Then someone showed me another way. A decidedly less amusing way. Far less fun and a lot less exciting, but probably a hell of a lot more effective.

Sometimes the best way isn’t your way. Sometimes the best way isn’t the best way for you, but it’s the best way for everyone else concerned.

It’s an annoying truth, but I think it’s something I should consider more often in the future.

Just because you can do something well doesn’t mean you should assume that it’s the best or most effective means of solving a problem.

It might be best for you, but sometimes, regrettably, it isn’t about you.

 

ChatGPT bio writes about Matthew Dicks

I’ve been experimenting with the possible uses of ChatGPT.

There are many.

Yesterday, in order to test its accuracy, I asked it to “Write a bio for Matthew Dicks.”

It produced six grammatically correct paragraphs.

I liked some of its sentences quite a bit:

“His engaging and often humorous stories quickly gained him a significant following, and he became a regular performer at storytelling events throughout the Northeast.”

I appreciated its use of “engaging and humorous,” though I’m fairly certain the AI has never heard me perform.

Also:

“In addition to his work as a storyteller, Dicks is also a successful novelist. His first novel, “Something Missing,” was published in 2009 and was a critical and commercial success.”

Anytime someone talks about my first novel, published 14 years ago, I’m thrilled.

The AI also made a number of glaring mistakes, including:

“He was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1970.” Wrong city, wrong state, and wrong year.“He grew up in West Hartford, CT.” Wrong state and wrong town.“He’s a regular contributor to the writing advice website Writer Unboxed, where he shares tips and advice on the craft of storytelling.” I’ve never written for that website, nor had I ever heard of it before today.After years of teaching, ChatGPT also reports that I became a stay-at-home dad. This was news to me! While it would make financial sense to quit teaching and engage in my more profitable endeavors, I love teaching. I love the kids, and I love the work. As of this moment, I am still an elementary school teacher. Happily so.

Still, producing six grammatically correct paragraphs containing information that is about 65% accurate isn’t bad. It also left out many things that my bio should probably include, and it reads like an encyclopedia entry, absent any voice, but it’s a start.

For some people, I think a start like this might be exceedingly helpful.

The blank page can be daunting, especially if you were taught to write by teachers who didn’t actually write, which is often the case. Rather than understanding the process and craft by engaging in it from time to time, most teachers pretend to know or imagine what writers do and base their teaching upon these oftentimes faulty assumptions.

They might also use curriculum written by people who only write curriculum, which can be equally problematic. How can you instruct a young person (or grown-ass adult) to write fiction or memoir or poetry if you’re not doing so yourself?

The blank page can also be daunting if you encountered some monster along the way who offered feedback on your writing solely in the form of criticism, absent any words of praise or appreciation.

As a result, most people don’t write, and most people don’t like to write, simply because the people who taught them to write didn’t know what the hell they were doing and were insensitive to their needs as a writer.

If a program like ChatGPT can eliminate the fear of the blank page by providing an awful first draft, and if it can serve as a crutch for those who want or need to write but struggle to do so, I’m willing to give it a chance and see if it can make a difference.

I’m not claiming to fully support artificial intelligence as a means of helping people become better writers, but I’m willing to see if it can help.

If it makes people want to write, and if it helps people write more often, it might not be so bad after all.

First impression was not good

I’ve been staying at the Hilton Akron Fairlawn Hotel and Suites in Akron, Ohio, while consulting with Smucker’s.

I was told that it’s the hotel where Lebron James held his NBA draft party back in 2003. Apparently, he lived less than a mile from the hotel.

When I checked in, I was handed a piece of paper. I assumed it contained information on the hotel amenities, but when I looked at it later to see if the gym was open later in the evening, I was greeted with a guest conduct policy.

It’s intense.

There are eight items listed on the conduct policy:

No smoking.
This seems fairly obvious, given that it’s 2023, but the policy goes on to warn that a $250 fee will be charged to your room if you are found smoking in the room or stairwells (stairwells!) and will be asked to vacate the premises. So it’s apparently not 2023 in Akron, Ohio, at least at this particular hotel, because people are still smoking in stairwells.No excessive noise after 9:00 PM.
It goes on to explain at length why this rule is important for the comfort of all guests. A reasonable rule, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it stated in hotel literature before.Room occupancy limits.
The policy states that only two people may occupy a “king bedded room” and four people for a “two-needed room,” and that rule applies at all times. In other words, don’t invite guests (even friends who have their own room in the hotel) to hang out in your room for even a second. Room occupancy – even in the middle of the day – is directly tied to the number of people who can comfortably fit in the bed or beds. Not the room itself.No parties are allowed in guest rooms at any time. The guidelines define a party as “Anything above the occupancy limit per suite is defined as a party.”
It’s smart to offer a definition of a party, but this one seems a little silly. I’ve been to many parties in my day, and they have never been defined by the number of people in a room. Also, if I was a member of a throuple, we apparently could not stay in a room with a king-sized bed without our occupancy officially being declared a party. You’d like to think that throuples are always having a party of sorts, but honestly, the arrangement sounds too complicated to be much fun to me.No pool parties are permitted.
On the heels of the no-party rule is another no-party rule. Interestingly, there is no definition of a pool party other than that the pool is for registered guests only, and food and drink are not permitted at the pool. But this was the moment when I started to think that this hotel has issues with excessive partying of its guests. I was three-quarters of the way down the paper and had yet to find information on the hours of the gym, check-out times, or housekeeping, but I knew a lot about parties, occupancy rates, and smoking.Alcoholic beverages must be served by the hotel. “Guests may not bring in their own alcohol for the purpose of entertaining others.”
Lots of questions here, specifically around the idea that the consumption of alcohol is predicated on its purpose. If we’re drinking whiskey as a form of entertainment, it’s not permitted. If we’re drowning our sorrows in whiskey, then I think we can drink all I want. Also, who am I entertaining with this alcohol since I can’t have parties and can’t exceed strict occupancy limits? Also, if the Hilton is the only legal supplier of alcohol on the premise, why state the conditions upon which I can drink my own alcohol at all since I wasn’t supposed to bring it into the hotel?Chaperones are required to be present with all children under the age of 18 throughout the premise at all times.
So if your 17-year-old daughter wants to exercise in the gym, she cannot do so unless you join her. Want to send your 12-year-old son to the shop just off the lobby to buy some candy? Not without an adult. Your teenage twins want to take a swim before dinner? You’d better be accompanying them, and don’t you dare bring an iced tea to the pool while you watch them swim. In short, don’t bring your kids to this hotel unless you plan on chaining yourself to them at all times.

This brought me to the bottom of the page. I had yet to find the hours of the gym, but I was pretty convinced that the Hilton Karom Fairlawn Hotel & Suites has had serious problems in the past with parties, alcohol, and general mayhem, which might not be the first thing you want your guests to know about upon entering your establishment.

Maybe don’t lead with your aggressive conduct policy. It didn’t exactly leave me with a sense of comfort or assurance that I would be getting a good night’s sleep.

I flipped the page over to find the hours of operation for the restaurant and lounge, information on daily housekeeping (there is none), and nothing more.

The desk clerk handed me a single sheet of paper when I arrived containing a conduct policy and restaurant hours.

Talk about making a good first impression.

I eventually found the hours of the gym posted on the door of the gym, which is the second best place to post those hours, and the bed was exceedingly comfortable, so I got two excellent nights of sleep.

My stay at the Hilton in Akron, Ohio, turned out just fine, which was not what they led me to expect when I arrived.

 

Do small things to be happy

Want to improve your mood? Increase your level of happiness?

There are some simple ways to do so. Remarkably simple ways. Scientifically proven ways.

The problem is that most people don’t believe in incrementalism. Rather than doing small things that produce small results that accumulate over time into something meaningful and real, they demand immediate fixes that produce enormous results.

If they can’t instantly feel the effects, then it can’t be real or can’t be worth the time or effort.

As in most things, tiny steps forward, compounded over time, will ultimately yield extraordinary results.

Want to be a happier person?

Do these things:

Exercise. Even a little bit will make an enormous difference.Sleep better by making simple, better decisions about your sleep.Eat healthier (even a little bit).Increase the amount of light you receive daily.Spend more time in nature (which can simply be looking into a tree).Dance (in your kitchen, alone, if necessary).Volunteer.Pet a dog or cat.Listen to upbeat music.Laugh.Give a gift to someone.Walk (which also counts as exercise).Declutter your home. Even a little bit.Smile, even if you’re not happy.Hug someone (with consent).Actively think about what’s going well in your life.Say positive things about yourself to yourself, aloud, even if you don’t believe them.

You won’t instantly feel overwhelmed with joy.

Your disposition won’t shift immediately or suddenly.

You won’t achieve astounding heights of bliss.

But if you do some of these small things consistently, over a period of time, you will almost certainly feel happier.

Play the long game. The easy game. The game that produces real results.

Analog dating

I was telling a person younger than me about dating prior to the internet.

I explained how you might find yourself attracted to a colleague, friend, acquaintance, or even a stranger, and when this happened, you would patiently wait for the right moment to tell that person how you felt and ask for a date.

All of this took place in real life. Absent any assurances that the feeling was mutual.

My younger friend was horrified.

“A stranger?” she said. “You’d seriously just walk up to a stranger and ask them out?”

“Or ask them to dance,” I said. “Or if you could buy them a drink. Or if they wanted to take a walk.”

My friend had seen such things in movies, but she didn’t believe it could happen in real life.

I explained that over the course of my dating life, I asked out girls who I did not know many times, and the settings for these romantic requests were wide and varied:

Parties. An amusement park. Restaurants and bars. An arcade. A sidewalk. A playground. A parking garage. A school bus. A beach. Another beach. A baseball dugout. Through the open windows of my car into the open window of another car while waiting at a stoplight.

I had always found that asking out strangers so much easier than asking a friend, colleague, or even an acquaintance. When you get rejected by a stranger, you never need to see that person again.

The rejection stings, but the moment is fleeting and irrelevant.

When your coworker or friend rejects you, awkwardness, at least for a time, ensues. In some cases, the friendship can be placed in jeopardy. The working relationship can become untenable.

Still, I married my colleague. She taught in a classroom about 30 feet from my own. We first met in a faculty meeting, and about two years later, our friendship had blossomed into romance.

Most of my longest, best relationships, including my marriage, began as friendships.

I also explained to my younger friend that Elysha and I started dating nearly 20 years ago. Dating apps and websites did not exist when I last dated, so finding potential partners online, posting profiles in hopes of getting noticed, and swiping left and right are all things I’ve never done.

My romantic life has been entirely analog.

My younger friend compared the possibility of an analog dating life to a roller coaster:

Intriguing but also terrifying.

She’s also never ridden on a roller coaster.

While she’s not averse to meeting potential partners in real life and has dated people who she’s met offline, she can’t imagine all of her romantic hopes predicated on the need to meet people in real life, ask them out on dates, and hope they might say yes.

“I’d love to meet the right person in person, but I can’t imagine not having the apps to make sure I can meet people when there’s no one around the corner.”

My advice to her if she wants to meet her special someone in a more analog way:

Expand your life. Do more stuff. Find more corners to go around.

Ride a roller coaster.

Not a joke. Also not funny.

Tiger Woods apologized Friday and said he didn’t mean to offend anyone by what he called “a prank” during the first round of the Genesis Invitational on Thursday.

After Woods’ tee shot went 20 yards past Justin Thomas’ ball on the ninth hole at the Riviera Country Club, Woods covertly passed a tampon to Thomas as they walked down the fairway. Thomas immediately dropped it to the ground, and Woods put his arm around Thomas’ shoulder as they laughed.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be all fun and games, and obviously, it hasn’t turned out that way,” Woods said. “If I offended anybody, it was not the case, it was just friends having fun.”

A lot is going on here.

First, Woods had to acquire tampons and put them in his pocket or golf bag in preparation for this moment. So this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment lapse in judgment, for which I will always forgive a person.

This was a planned moment of stupidity.

Second, I understand the rationale behind the joke:

Men tend to hit golf balls farther than women, so if you hit the ball farther than your male friend, he is more akin to a woman.

And I get it. This type of humor is not unknown to me. I’ve heard golfers leave putts short on the green and sarcastically say to themselves, “Good job, Sally…” – implying that the putt was left short because they hit it like a girl.

I’ve also heard many people (including women) say things like, “Man up!” or “Don’t you have any balls?” – implying that acting more like a man is an indication of strength or courage.

I’ve certainly made similar comments in the past. During my glory days of fighting, I would often intentionally allow my opponent to land the first blow, then smile and say something like, “Wow, you hit like a girl.”

Stripping your opponent of their confidence is the first and most important step in beating them to a pulp.

But those days are long gone for me. Both the fighting (tragically) and the sexism (thankfully).

While I’m not overtly critical of someone who says, “Man up” or “Nice job, Sally,” I try like hell to refrain from comments like these myself, and I always stop my students when sex or gender is used in a pejorative way to explain the harm being done when comments like that are made.

But a public figure like Tiger Woods planning the exchange of a tampon in a public golf tournament?

It’s an outrageously stupid decision. A premeditated act of hateful sexism. An absolutely idiotic thing for someone in his position to do.

Even worse, it’s not even funny. Not only is it steeped in tired, overdone sexist tropes, and not only does it risk offending half of the human beings on the planet, but the joke is stupid.

It’s not funny.

It’s middle-school comedy at best.

Tiger Wood was stupid on two fronts on Friday:

He acted like a sexist jerk.He was deeply, profoundly unfunny.

At the bottom of my golf bag, I have a tiny violin inside a tiny violin case. About the size of my pinkie finger. Someday in the future, when one of my friends begins whining over a bad bounce, an unlucky hop, and an unfortunate break, I will hand that friend the tiny violin and say, “Here. It’s the world’s smallest violin. Play yourself a sad song about your terrible misfortune.”

It won’t be the funniest joke in the world, and it’s admittedly predicated on a joke that’s been made many times before, but given the circumstances and setting, it will be unexpected and amusing. Perhaps, if executed well, with the right timing and the right audience, it could be legitimately hilarious.

And it will at least be original. I suspect that in the history of the human race, no golfer has ever handed another golfer a tiny violin on the golf course.

The people around us will most certainly laugh. The person receiving the violin will laugh, too. And whoever receives it will now possess a tiny violin, which they can either keep as a memento or pass it on similarly at a later date.

Best of all, no one will be offended by the exchange. Even violinists might find the joke amusing.

Also, the humor will not require the exchange of a feminine hygiene product and will not be based on misogyny.

I will always find the kind of humor that Tiger Woods trafficked in on Friday stupid, sexist, and sometimes even hateful. And when the moment is right, I may even express my concerns to friends who make similar jokes, though I admittedly often let those moments pass lest I embarrass them or ruin an otherwise good day.

But if you’re a public figure standing in the public square, you can’t make jokes like this and expect the world to ignore your sexism or give you a pass, particularly when your sexist, asinine joke was premeditated and planned.

We should all know better.

Tiger Woods should really know better.

Best Valentine’s Day card of 2023

One of Elysha’s favorite things is when I take a card for an entirely inappropriate occasion and transform it to fit the occasion at hand.

A “Condolences on the death of your pet” becomes a birthday card.

A housewarming card becomes a “Congratulation on the birth of your daughter” card.

A “Congratulations on your new job” card becomes a “Get well soon” card.

I’ve been doing this for a long time. Even as a kid, I transformed cards for family, friends, and girlfriends. Part of it was born from desperation:

I needed a card for a particular occasion, but I didn’t have one. I could make a card, or I could instead transform one that we already had lying around the house.

Transforming seemed a lot easier and more amusing.

It was also the result of my burning need to create new things combined with a relentless desire to avoid conformity at all costs.

I share this idea with my students every year, showing them some of these transformations before sticking them into envelopes and sending them away. My hope is to show my students that things don’t always need to be as they were originally intended. The world is a black canvas if you’re willing to change how you see it and explore the possibilities of your imagination:

New paths. Original solutions. Novel alternatives to the status quo.

This is why I was so thrilled when one of my students gave me a Valentine’s Day card that she had completely and brilliantly transformed for the occasion.

Instead of:

“Happy Valentine’s Day! I have a giant crush on you!”

… she transformed the card to read:

“Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope the giant crushing feeling in your lungs is gone.”

She’s referencing my recent bout with pneumonia, which I am close to conquering.

She turned a Valentine’s Day card into a very specific “Get well” card.

She also made her teacher very happy.

[image error][image error] [image error]

Brutal, memorable, perfect birthday wishes

Thank you for all the birthday wishes yesterday. They were both appreciated and overwhelming.

A few highlights from the day:

One of my students gave me a box of chocolates, saying, “Happy birthday. You’re officially one year closer to your death.”

Another student said, “Happy birthday, Mr. Dicks. Enjoy your dwindling time left on this planet.”

Another said, “It’s International Childhood Cancer Awareness Day, Mr. Dicks. Do you really need to steal their thunder with your silly little birthday?”

I looked it up. She was correct. Clever child.

Another student gave me a jar of fishheads, which can apparently be purchased in a retail outlet somewhere in the United States. When I looked closely and said that they didn’t exactly look like fishheads, she said, “Yeah, that jar is at least two years old. Probably older.”

Kids can be so sweet.

I’ve taught them well.

On a more positive note, I received many emails, videos, and in-person visits from former students, wishing me a happy birthday, notably absent any reminders of my future demise or any horrifying gifts.

I also received birthday wishes in many forms friends and family, colleagues, and even clients. Gifts, too. A great jacket, a shirt, and two beautiful cards from Elysha. Cards from my kids, too. A box of golf balls from a client. Treats from my colleagues. A lovely, handmade card signed by every student in my class and grudgingly tossed at me at the end of the day.

All fantastic.

Later, we celebrated as a family with dinner and shakes at the Bell City Diner in Bristol, which has become our go-to location for birthday celebrations.

But it’s those snarky, cutting, hilarious comments from my students (and a jar of decayed fish heads) that I will likely remember most from this year’s birthday because oftentimes, the most memorable moments in our lives are not the things we receive, the objects we possess, and the material goods that we accumulate, but the words that are said to us, the sentiments expressed, and the moments that are most unique.

My rotten students managed to be quite memorable yesterday.

I’m so very grateful.

Raising chickens is not the answer

The sale of chickens has exploded since egg prices skyrocketed as a result of the recent avian flu, the consolidation in the egg industry, and inflation. In light of the sudden increase in egg prices, Americans have decided that the answer is to purchase chickens of their own.

As a result, hatcheries are now having trouble meeting the demand for chicks, increasing their cost by 18 percent this year.

This strikes me as an inefficient, knee-jerk solution to a small and possibly temporary problem.

In fact, it’s definitely temporary, at least to some degree. The average price of a carton of eggs is currently $3.40, down from a high of $5.54 a few months ago.

Also, how important are eggs that people need to begin raising farm animals to bolster their egg supply? I like eggs a lot, but if they became unaffordable, I could certainly use fewer eggs without too much consternation.

I don’t pretend to understand the economics of owning chickens, but does raising chickens really make economic sense? The cost of eggs has nearly tripled in the last two years, but that has amounted to an increase of about $3 per dozen.

How many dozens of eggs do you need to buy to make the purchase of actual chickens economically sensible?

Don’t you need to build an enclosure of some kind for your chickens? And chickens need to eat. How much does it cost to feed a chicken every week? And how much time will now be spent on the care and upkeep of your flock?

Maybe you could sell the extra eggs you don’t need, but now you’re in the egg-selling business. How much money per hour will you be earning selling surplus eggs?

This is not an argument against owning chickens, of course. Nothing wrong with raising chickens if you have the space and know what you’re doing.

This is an argument against purchasing chickens to offset the recent $3.00 increase in a dozen eggs.

Call me crazy, but unless you’re purchasing hundreds of eggs per week (and the average American eats less than one egg per day), I don’t think this makes a lot of sense.

You can probably find a different, far easier place in your life to save a few bucks. Perhaps two fewer cappuccinos each week makes more sense than building a chicken coop and adding a flock of flightless birds to your life.

Also, perhaps you should consider the amount of time required to raise farm animals before jumping into the egg game. Yes, you may save some money by avoiding today’s escalating egg prices, but when your saving-per-hour rate is well below minimum wage, maybe there are better, more profitable ways of spending that time.

My rule of problem-solving is this:

The simplest solution to a problem is almost always the best solution to a problem.

Also:

Not every thing needs to be a thing.

Becoming a chicken farmer to offset an increase in egg prices strikes me as a complex solution to a decidedly simple problem.

It’s also very much an example of making a thing out of something that need not be a thing.