The Value of Scarcity
      The Value of Scarcity
When I was young, and found a new band (or an old band) that I liked, or an author I enjoyed, I would try to track down their past work. And pre-Internet, it was hard. Very hard.
It wasn't just hard to find old Miles Davis albums, for example, it was hard to even find out Miles Davis' complete discography. I could go into a store and find an album I'd never heard of. And that was really the main way you could hunt for what you were looking for--just going to the store and seeing what they have in stock, or maybe what they can order for you, assuming you knew what to ask for.
Likewise, finding old Philip K. Dick books, for example, while most were long out of print, was a Herculean challenge then. Scouring used book stores was really the only way to get what you wanted, and it was easy for such a trip to end in disappointment.
It's all different now, of course. A few keystrokes entered into a search engine and viola, everything you ever wanted is right there, available for you to click on and buy, assuming you've got the money. There's no hunt. No footwork. Everything's available for you, all the time. Which is great, of course.
Except when it isn't.
See, I actually liked the hunt. It was rewarding and thrilling to find something you'd been looking for over the months or even years of your quest. Thrilling, even. A triumph. I can remember where and when I found some of those old albums and books, for example. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm no Luddite. I appreciate having the selection and availability of modern times. Mostly. But I do wonder what it's like for those younger than me who never didn't have access to everything they wanted. Is it harder to value something? I don't know. It certainly runs the risk of not being as excited about something, I would imagine.
Today, I subscribe to Rhapsody, and thus essentially have instant access to most music. Netflix offers pretty much the same thing for movies. Some savvy ebook service will soon start up and give people every book. This, I truly believe, is the way of the future. Not only will there be no acquisition, but no ownership, either. And that's fine.
But in a way, I think there is value in not being able to have anything and everything you want, exactly when you want it. The anticipation, the the dedication, and the resolution of wanting something, looking for it, and finally finding it are--in retrospect--wonderful experiences.
    
    
    When I was young, and found a new band (or an old band) that I liked, or an author I enjoyed, I would try to track down their past work. And pre-Internet, it was hard. Very hard.
It wasn't just hard to find old Miles Davis albums, for example, it was hard to even find out Miles Davis' complete discography. I could go into a store and find an album I'd never heard of. And that was really the main way you could hunt for what you were looking for--just going to the store and seeing what they have in stock, or maybe what they can order for you, assuming you knew what to ask for.
Likewise, finding old Philip K. Dick books, for example, while most were long out of print, was a Herculean challenge then. Scouring used book stores was really the only way to get what you wanted, and it was easy for such a trip to end in disappointment.
It's all different now, of course. A few keystrokes entered into a search engine and viola, everything you ever wanted is right there, available for you to click on and buy, assuming you've got the money. There's no hunt. No footwork. Everything's available for you, all the time. Which is great, of course.
Except when it isn't.
See, I actually liked the hunt. It was rewarding and thrilling to find something you'd been looking for over the months or even years of your quest. Thrilling, even. A triumph. I can remember where and when I found some of those old albums and books, for example. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm no Luddite. I appreciate having the selection and availability of modern times. Mostly. But I do wonder what it's like for those younger than me who never didn't have access to everything they wanted. Is it harder to value something? I don't know. It certainly runs the risk of not being as excited about something, I would imagine.
Today, I subscribe to Rhapsody, and thus essentially have instant access to most music. Netflix offers pretty much the same thing for movies. Some savvy ebook service will soon start up and give people every book. This, I truly believe, is the way of the future. Not only will there be no acquisition, but no ownership, either. And that's fine.
But in a way, I think there is value in not being able to have anything and everything you want, exactly when you want it. The anticipation, the the dedication, and the resolution of wanting something, looking for it, and finally finding it are--in retrospect--wonderful experiences.
        Published on September 28, 2010 17:42
    
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