When I was young, being given ‘options’ was a treat.
When I was young, being given ‘options’ was a treat. It felt empowering — as though I were in complete control of my destiny. ‘Do you want to play Monopoly or Careers?’
‘You have a choice — a Zoom or a Fab, what will it be?’
‘If you have a bath now and get ready for bed you can stay up and watch either Top of the Pops or The Persuaders — you decide.’
In those halcyon, carefree, pre-health and safety days both choices were always presented as being agonisingly fabulous, and much of the thrill derived from the deliberation itself.
Now that I’m an adult I’ve done a complete volte-face on options. I loathe them. They no longer represent freedom of choice — instead they’re just decisions loaded with potentially irrevocable consequences.
In theory, all human, patient and customer rights should be cause for celebration.
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