Economist Writing Every Day

In terms of unexpected introspection, I was careened into by an emotionally wreckless Winnebago :

The answer is obviously job, right? I mean, I’ve dedicated huge swaths of my life to economics. I love economics. Sacrifices have been made, time and emotional toil committed. I would love to be a 20% better economist. That would mean my labor in the profession would be at least 20% more valuable, likely more. The opportunity cost of my time would skyrocket. I would be in more demand as a consultant, would receive more outside offers that would bring me to new heights of salary, likely other parts of the country, other parts of the world even. My work would receive greater attention and scrutiny. I would be fueled by the pressure to keep up with my past self and past contributions. There would be more speculation as to whether I’ve passed my peak, remain worthy of continuing investment. There would be disserations to be written, careers to be made identifying the errors I’ve committed, both subtly important and catastrophically innocent. I’d feel a greater sense of obligation to my, perhaps unearned, talent. To make good on it through service to the world. Sleep, travel, leisure would all feel that much more costly, that much more selfish. Strangers would feel that much more compelled, that much more rewarded, for publicly impugning my abilities and intentions. I would, ironically, probably receive 1000% more public censure as a result of 20% greater capacity. Would my 20% spike in competence come bundled with a thicker skin, independence of thought, and clarity of identity? Would I still be me? What exactly does come out the other side of the teleporter Mr. Scott?

Yeah, so I told the djinn I’d rather be 100% better at golf.