David and the Corvette
All your life you wanted a Corvette, but now you’re beginning to wish you’d never heard of the car.
The latest trouble began a few weeks ago, when you finally gave in to the family’s wish to buy an in-ground pool. Nobody exactly asked you to sell the ‘Vette, but it was pretty clear to all that the only way to finance the pool was to let go of the Riverside Red 1965 Stingray coupe.
Which you did. The online ads for the Corvette generated a lot of interest, but the best offer came from David, a buyer in Jacksonville. He offered to pay full price of $35,000, on the condition that you deliver the car to him in Florida. That’s not a bad deal, you think: Trees are turning color in the Smokies, and you and your wife could drive down together for one last trip in the Stingray, spend a few days on the beach in Florida with the money from the sale, and fly back together.
But things didn’t go exactly according to plan. After a nice drive down and only a little trouble finding David’s house, you were surprised to see that his cashier’s check was for just $34,000, $1,000 less than you’d agreed upon. When you point this out to him, he gets this ‘Aw, shucks’ grin and says that he figures it’s still a pretty good deal:
“The way I figure it,” he drawls, “it’s gonna cost you more than $1000 if you let yourself get all pissed off about it. You’ve already paid to come down here, and you’ve paid for your airline tickets, and you won’t get any of that money back anyhow.So if you start pouting and leave here with that Corvette, you’ll need to drive it all the way back to Ohio (at twelve mpg, if you’re lucky) and start selling it all over again, but now with winter coming on…”
Standing there in his garage, your keys in hand, you need to figure out what to do, and why.
In a one-page paper, explain exactly what you’ll do, and why. What beliefs and assumptions underlie your planned course of action? Don’t settle for a surface-level analysis: Go deeper.