The royal treatment
I’m often on the road making my living. Frequently that means middle seats, economy rental cars, Spartan motel rooms and chain restaurants. But sometimes — certainly not nearly as often as I’d like — I get the royal treatment: first-class air transportation, limousine service, a hotel suite and fine dining in a five-star restaurant.
I don’t find that I eat any better, sleep any better or do any better work when I’m coddled. Nor do I get paid any better. But you know what? I like it.
I know that the fuss over me is nothing more than a pretense that feeds my self-image of importance, but somehow it appeals to me. And I’m not alone. Take a look at the number of travelers who pay good money — sometimes a lot of good money-to travel in style. They (or their companies) pay three to four times the cost of a coach airline ticket to ride in the first-class section. They rent full-size cars, which cost significantly more than the mid-size jobs. And they book themselves into hotel suites that can easily run twice as much as a standard room.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’d just as soon fly in the front cabin, tool around in a big car, and have a spacious room to crash in, but I just can’t justify the cost. Perhaps that’s because I think about the value of travel services and products in purely economic terms without regard to their value in terms of status.
That’s how Dr. Brian Gibbs would put it. Dr. Gibbs, an associate professor of marketing and behavioral science at Melbourne Business School, studies how people value products and services. He believes that status-consciousness may have an evolutionary basis — that it may have helped our esteem-seeking ancestors adapt better to their environments — and that this ancient fixation somehow left our modern brains “wired for status.” Consequently, the status attached to selections that people make today often plays a significant role in determining those choices. In other words, choosing to travel in style, even when it costs more, does make some kind of weird sense.
So how does a guy like me — and maybe a person like you — feel content with travel arrangements that are adequate but less than prestigious? Dr. Gibbs offers a few tips:
Don’t compare. Try to value the selections you have made without comparing them to the selections made by others, particularly to selections that cost someone else a lot more money. Granted, this may be easier said than done when you are sitting in an airplane eating peanuts with your knees in your chest, while passengers in the front of the plane are stretched out watching movies and sipping Champagne.
Compare “down.” If you must compare, try to weigh your condition against that of others who are in a less-preferred situation. For instance, rather than dwelling on the fancy sports car that the guy ahead of you just drove off the lot, think about how much better off you are driving around town in an old beater than is the guy behind you at the rental counter, who was told there were no more cars available.
Maintain a low reference point. Each time you taste a higher level of status when traveling, there is a tendency to move up the reference point for what you think you deserve. This makes it tempting to opt for a more expensive alternative the next time you book a flight, car or room. (Why do you think companies are so generous with free upgrades?) Resist the temptation. Otherwise, over time, you will find yourself feeling unsatisfied with anything less than prestigious (i.e., costly) arrangements.
Human nature makes these tips difficult to follow. It takes fortitude to be content with simple, clean, efficient and safe travel options. So hang in there.
Me? I’ll be in first class.