The Rule That Won’t Let Go
My friend Joe Clark hit me with a fresh ponder recently—not so much a question this time, but more of an observation:
Joe’s Rule: Never let one decision or action control the next.
He offered two quick examples. First, people are often better at buying a stock than selling it. Second, he recently bought a ticket to the Shedd Aquarium but later changed his mind. In both cases, the temptation is to let the past dictate the future. People cling to a purchase, a trade, or a plan simply because they’ve already committed money or energy. “Getting their money’s worth” becomes an invisible leash.
Joe said, “Sometimes that fascinates me. Other times it disturbs me.” Either way, Joe’s observation gets at something essential: the inability—or the refusal—to act on new information when it arrives.
Knowing Who You Are
To me, Joe’s two examples aren’t quite the same. The stock market case is less about sunk cost and more about self-awareness.
Here’s my truth: I’m not a trader. I don’t have the instincts for it. I can analyze fundamentals, I can take a long view, but I’m terrible at timing buys and sells. My video game habits prove the point—I finish games with more ammo and health packs than I could ever use. Once I have something, I’m reluctant to part with it.
That doesn’t mean I can’t be an investor. It just means I need to be honest with myself. I should keep an eye on the dials—valuation, risk, portfolio balance—but if something truly isn’t a long-term, buy-and-hold opportunity, I should stay away from it altogether. No matter how strong the fundamentals look, if the game requires quick-trigger trading, it’s not my game.
And here’s the other side of that truth: sometimes the long-term plays don’t work out. If they’re now worth nearly nothing, that’s not a badge of shame—it’s a broom cue. Sweep the floor. Sell them. Take the tax credit. Feel good about it.
It’s like George Carlin’s bit about spoiled food in the fridge. You know the one—leftovers wrapped in foil, containers with mystery contents you keep around “just in case.” You don’t eat them. You don’t want to throw them out. You keep justifying their existence until one day they’re growing hair and threatening to file for tenant rights. Some investments are the same way. Stop pretending. Take them to the curb.
But, y'know, leftovers make you feel good twice. D'ja ever think about that? When you first put them away, you feel really intelligent- "I'm saving food!" And then, after a month, when hair is growing out of them and you throw them away you feel...really intelligent- "I'm saving my life!" — George Carlin
The Beer Festival Effect
And that brings me to the tickets. Beer festivals, in my case. They’re a check-in wonderland for a “Doesn't Drink the Same Beer Twice” guy like me: dozens of little tastings, one after another. And yet, my hit rate for actually attending? Maybe one out of ten. Conflicts come up. Plans shift. And those $80–$100 tickets? They end up in the drawer with Joe’s aquarium pass.
The key difference is this: I no longer beat myself up over it. Those tickets became training. A reminder that sometimes the wiser move is to walk away from a sunk cost and spend your time where it matters more.
It’s the same lesson I apply in projects. I’ll sometimes buy a part or tool I think will be the magic key. If it doesn’t fit? Fine. I don’t return it. I don’t brood over it. If it’s a small percent of the budget and the upside could have been huge, the failed experiment was worth it.
The Bigger Lesson
Joe’s rule holds true in both worlds, but in different ways. In markets, it’s about self-awareness: knowing what games you’re suited to play—and having the guts to toss out the spoiled leftovers when they’ve gone bad. In life, it’s about sunk costs: learning to walk away when the past shouldn’t hold the future hostage.
So yes—buy the ticket. Take the shot. But don’t let yesterday’s decision bully today’s freedom.
At the end of the day, it’s not about “getting your money’s worth.” It’s about getting your life’s worth.
✨ Seed Thought: Self-awareness keeps you out of the wrong games; letting go keeps you free to play the right ones. And when the fridge starts to smell? Take out the trash.
