The "supermarket shelf paradox", which does not really exist and which I just made up, demonstrates that the frustration caused by time wasted when choosing a product is directly proportional to how irrelevant that decision is to our lives. In other words, it is what happens when you are staring at bottles of bleach and can't decide which one to grab. In terms of their power to disinfect there's little difference between one bleach formulation and another and yet we stand there poring over the bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, the French philosopher, Jean Buridan, defended the existence of free will and declared that any decision can be made by using reason. In response, some critics of his position envisioned the predicament faced by a donkey standing in front of two haystacks. Confronted with endless doubt, the donkey can't decide which one is the most appetizing and dies of hunger.

According to some, this constitutes a paradox since he could have eaten but doesn't because he can't decide which haystack is better (they both seem identical to him). But instead of making me think about the role that reason plays in decision making, this story brings to mind a question about the donkey. The question I ask myself is not what does the donkey do or not do, but what does he know. And more specifically, whether he knows that he does not know which is the best possible decision.

The gondola paradox (referring to gondolas at the grocery store, not the ones in Venice) is a concept that doesn’t exist; I coined it just now. It states that the more frustrated we get wasting our time choosing a product, the more unimportant the decision is to our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when you stand there staring at bottles of bleach without knowing which one to take. How much of a difference can there be from one sodium hypochlorite solution to the next when it comes to disinfecting power? Regardless, there you are, staring at and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Centuries before the existence of the grocery store as we know it lived French philosopher Jean Buridan. He defended the existence of free will and argued that by utilizing reason, it is possible to make any decision. Some critics of his position, in response, conjured up a hypothetical situation of an ass facing two piles of hay. The ass is unable to decide which pile is more appetizing and starves to death.

According to some people, this constitutes a paradox: although the ass can eat, it doesn’t because it can’t decide which pile is better (both piles look the same to it). Rather than make me think of the role of reason in making decisions, for me this story raises a question about the ass. I ask myself not what the ass does or does not do, but what it knows. More specifically, I ask myself if it knows it doesn’t know what the best choice possible is.

The gondola paradox (of the supermarket, not Venice), which does not exist and I have just invented, states that the frustration generated by the time lost choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. In other words, it is what happens when you stare at containers of bleach without knowing which one to take. There can be little variation between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when what matters is its disinfection ability, and yet there we stand, looking and comparing containers as though they were Swiss chocolates.

Yet centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, lived a French philosopher called Jean Buridan who defended the existence of free will and asserted that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his position imagined the situation of a donkey in front of two piles of hay who, faced with infinite doubt as to which is the most appetising, cannot decide and dies of hunger.

It is a paradox, according to some, since the donkey is able to eat but does not do so because it cannot decide which pile is more desirable (both piles appear the same). However far from making me think about the role of reason in decision-making, this raises a question for me about the donkey. And what I’m wondering is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows that it doesn’t know what the best possible decision is.

The gondola paradox (that’s a supermarket shelving gondola, not a Venetian one), that doesn’t actually exist because it’s a phrase I just coined, states that the level of frustration generated by the amount of time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. To put it another way, it’s what happens when you are standing there staring at bottles of bleach and can’t decide which one to choose. There can’t be much difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when it comes to its power to disinfect, but we stand there looking at bottles and comparing them like they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before supermarkets as we know them existed, the French philosopher Jean Buridan, who defended the existence of free will, affirmed that it was possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his standpoint imagined the scenario of a donkey standing in front of two bales of hay. When faced with the interminable doubt of which is the most appetising, it finds it can’t decide and dies of hunger.

Some say it’s a paradox in which the donkey can eat but doesn’t do so because it can’t decide which bale of hay is best (both look the same). But far from making me think about the role of reason in decision making, for me this story raises a question about the donkey. And that question is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows. And more specifically if it knows or doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

According to the gondola paradox, which I’ve just made up and has nothing to do with Venice, the frustration caused by the time wasted picking a product in the supermarket is directly proportional to how little impact the decision will have on our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when one keeps staring at bleach bottles without knowing which to choose. As far as disinfecting power goes, there can be no meaningful difference between two sodium hypochlorite formulas; and yet here we are, inspecting and comparing those bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Even so, centuries before the advent of the supermarket as we know it, the French philosopher Jean Buridan argued in favour of the existence of free will and claimed that any decision can be based on reason. To counter this notion, some critics came up with the predicament of an ass who, grappling with the intractable problem of choosing between two equally appetising haystacks, ends up starving to death.

This has been described by some as a paradox: the ass could, but won’t eat, unable as he is to decide which of the two seemingly identical stacks is to be preferred. But far from leading me to reflect on the role of reason in decision-making, this story makes me wonder about the ass. And what I’m asking myself is not what the ass does or not, but what he knows – more specifically, whether he knows he doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

The gondola paradox – I’m talking about supermarket shelving, not Venice – a term I’ve just made up, shows that the frustration caused by time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance this decision has on our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when you stare at bottles of bleach without knowing which one to pick. There can’t be that much variation between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when all you’re looking for is its power to disinfect, and yet there we are, staring and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolate.

Centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended the existence of free will and claimed that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some of those who criticised his stance put forward the hypothesis of an ass looking at two piles of hay; faced with the eternal dilemma of which is the most appetising, it cannot decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, it is a paradox because, while the ass is able to eat the hay, it doesn’t, because it cannot decide which pile is more desirable as both piles look the same. However, far from making me think about the role of reason in decision-making, this story raises a question about the ass, and the question I ask myself is not what the ass does or does not do, but what it knows. More specifically, if it knows that it doesn’t know which one is the best possible decision.

The paradox of the gondola (the thing supermarkets use for displays, not the romantic transport of Venice), which to date does not exist but which I have just invented, states that the frustration generated by the time wasted selecting a product is in direct proportion to the irrelevance of that decision to our lives. In other words, it is what happens when you stand staring at drums of bleach, wondering which one to get. There can't be much difference between one formula for sodium hypochlorite and another when all that matters is its disinfecting powers, yet we stand there looking and carefully comparing the containers as if they held fine Swiss chocolates.

Yet centuries before supermarkets as we know them came into existence there lived a man called Jean Buridan, a French philosopher and champion of free will, who claimed one could take any decision by the use of reason. Some critics of his stance responded by imagining the predicament of a donkey faced with two heaps of hay. Unable to decide which will be the tastiest, it eventually dies of hunger.

Some people say this is a paradox, as although it could eat it does not do so because it can't decide which heap is the most suitable (since both heaps look the same to it). But far from causing me to think about the role of reason in decision-making. this story makes me wonder about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or doesn't do, but what it knows. And more precisely, whether it knows that it doesn't know which decision is the best one possible.

The paradox of the gondola (the one from the supermarket rather than Venice), that doesn’t exist but that I have just coined, asserts that the frustration caused by the time lost in choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of this decision to our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when one stands looking at bottles of bleach without knowing which one to take. There can’t be great variation between one formula of sodium hypochlorite and another when what’s of interest is its power of disinfection. However, there we stand, browsing and comparing containers as though they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended the existence of free will, asserting that it is possible to make any decision by using reason. In response, some critics of his position imagined the situation of a donkey in front of two haystacks. In the face of infinite doubt as to which is the most appetising, the donkey cannot decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, this is a paradox since the donkey is able to eat but does not do so as it cannot decide which stack is most convenient, as both look the same. But far from making me think about the role of reason in the making of decisions, for me this story raises a question about the donkey. What I ask myself is not what the donkey does or does not do, but rather what it knows and, more specifically, whether it knows that it doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

The paradox of the gondola (of the supermarket kind, not the Venetian one), which does not exist and which I have just devised, states that the frustration generated by the time we waste choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision for our lives. In other words, this is what happens when we stare at tins of bleach and don’t know which one to choose. There can be little difference between one formulation of sodium hypochlorite and another when what matters is its disinfecting power, and yet there we stand, looking at and comparing tins as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before the supermarket as we know it existed, there was Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended the existence of free will and who stated that we can reach any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his position imagined the situation of a donkey caught between two piles of hay which, faced with the endless doubt as to which pile was the most appetising, is incapable of deciding and starves to death.

Some claim that this is a paradox, since while the donkey can eat, it does not do so because it is unable to decide which pile is more enticing (both piles seem to it to be equally so). Far from making me think about the role of reason in decision-making, however, this story raises a question for me about the donkey, and what I am wondering is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows and, more specifically, whether it knows that it doesn’t know what the best possible decision is.

Although there’s no such thing as I’ve just coined the term, according to the paradox of the gondola (I’m talking about the one found in a supermarket, not in Venice), the frustration we feel when we waste our time choosing a product is directly proportional to how irrelevant that decision is for our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when we stare at bleach bottles without knowing which to pick. One sodium hypochlorite formula must be much like another when all we’re interested in is how well it disinfects. Yet there we stand, looking at bottles and comparing them as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Centuries before modern supermarkets arrived on the scene, the French philosopher Jean Buridan advocated free will and claimed we can base all our decisions on reason. In response, some critics of his stance imagined an ass in front of a couple of haystacks; given infinite doubt about which is the tastiest in this situation, the animal wavers between the two and eventually starves to death.

Some believe this represents a paradox, since the donkey doesn’t eat even though it could because it can’t decide which stack is better (both seem the same). But far from making me ponder the role reason plays in decisions, this story prompts me to ask a question about the ass. And rather than wondering what it is or isn’t doing, I’m interested in what it knows. More pertinently, whether it realises it doesn’t know what the most appropriate decision is.

The gondola paradox (gondola referring to a supermarket shelf, not a Venetian boat) - which doesn’t actually exist and which I have just invented - states that the frustration caused by the time wasted when choosing a product is directly proportional to how irrelevant that decision is for our lives. Or, put another way, it’s what happens when you stand looking at bottles of bleach without knowing which one to take. There can’t be much difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when what matters is its disinfectant power, and yet there we linger, looking at and comparing the bottles as though they were Swiss chocolates.

However centuries before the supermarket as we know it came into existence there was a French philosopher, Jean Buridan, who argued in favour of the existence of free will and who affirmed that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his position envisaged the scenario of a donkey in front of two haystacks; faced with an insurmountable sense of doubt as to which is the most appetising, the donkey can’t decide and dies of hunger.

Some people would describe this as a paradox, since although the donkey is able to eat it doesn’t because it can’t decide which haystack is the right one to go for (both haystacks look the same to the donkey). However, far from making me think about the role of reason in decision-making, for me this story raises a question about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what does it know. And, more specifically, if it knows that it doesn’t know what the best possible decision is.

The paradox of the cart (supermarket, not horse-drawn), which does not exist and which I have just invented, states that the frustration generated by the time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision for our lives. To put it another way, it's what happens when you stare at bottles of bleach and don't know which one to pick. There can be little difference between one formulation of sodium hypochlorite and another when what matters is its disinfecting power, and yet there we stand, staring at bottles and comparing them as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Yet centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, there lived a French philosopher named Jean Buridan, who asserted the existence of free will and argued that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his thesis posited the situation of a donkey in front of two piles of hay: faced with the infinite uncertainty of which is the more appetising, it cannot choose, and dies of starvation.

This is – according to some – a paradox since, despite being able to eat, it does not do so because it cannot decide which pile is more favourable (both piles appearing equal in its mind). But far from making me think about the role of reason in decision-making, this story raises a question for me about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, whether it knows that it doesn't know which is the best possible decision.

According to the paradox of the gondola (the one in the supermarket, not Venice), which doesn’t exist and that I’ve just invented, the frustration generated as a result of the time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to how unimportant this decision is to our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when you’re there looking at bottles of bleach without knowing which to choose. There can be little difference between one formula of sodium hypochlorite and another when all that matters is its power to disinfect, and yet we stand there, studying and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, French philosopher Jean Buridan defended the existence of free will and declared that it is possible to make any decision by applying reason. In response, some of his critics imagined a situation in which a donkey, faced with two piles of hay, is so consumed with immeasurable doubt as to which would be the tastiest that he cannot decide and dies of hunger.

This is, according to some, a paradox, in that he could eat but does not, because he cannot decide which pile is best (both look the same to him). But rather than getting me thinking about the role reason plays in our decision making, this story actually has me raising a question about the donkey. And what I’m asking myself is not what the donkey does, or does not do, but what he knows. And, more specifically, whether he knows that he doesn’t know which is the best decision.

The gondola paradox (that's a supermarket gondola, not a Venetian one), which didn't exist until I just invented it, establishes that the frustration generated by wasting our time in choosing a product is directly proportional to how irrelevant that decision is in our lives. In other words, it's what happens when we stare hypnotised at bottles of bleach, unable to decide which one to choose. There surely can't be much of a difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another. What matters is their power to disinfect. Yet there we stand, glaring at the bottles and comparing them as if they were Swiss chocolates.
However, centuries before the existence of supermarkets as we know them, there lived a French philosopher called Jean Buridan, who defended the existence of free will and declared that one can make any decision through the use of reason. In response, a number of people criticised his idea by proposing the situation of a donkey standing in front of two heaps of hay. Faced with infinite doubt as to which one is more appetizing, he cannot decide and dies of hunger.
According to some people, this is a paradox, because even though he can eat, he doesn't do so, since he can't decide which heap is better. After all, the two of them look the same. But far from making me think about the role that reason plays in decision-making, for me this story raises a question about the donkey. What I wonder is not what the donkey does or doesn't do, but what he knows. And, more specifically, whether or not he knows that he doesn't know what the best possible decision is.

The paradox of the gondola (the supermarket one, not the Venice one), which does not exist as I’ve just made it up, holds that the frustration caused by the time wasted on choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. Put simply, it is what happens when you’re left staring at bottles of bleach with no idea of which one to choose. There can be little difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when what matters is how effective it is as a disinfectant. Yet, there we stand, examining and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

However, centuries before there were supermarkets as we know them now, there lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who argued that there was such a thing as free will and stated that any decision may be made by use of reason. In response, some critics hypothesised the case of a donkey faced with two bales of hay which, struggling with the interminable question of which is tastier, cannot make a decision and dies of hunger.

This, for some, is a paradox, as although the donkey can eat it does not because it cannot decide which bale is the better choice (both bales look exactly the same to it). For me, rather than the role of reason in decision-making, this story poses a question about the donkey. What I want to know is not what the donkey does or does not do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows it doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

The paradox of the gondola (in supermarkets, not the Venetian kind), which did not exist; I just coined it - establishes that the frustration created by lost time in searching for a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of this decision in our lives. Said differently, that is what happens when one sits there looking at cans of bleach without knowing which to buy. Not a whole lot can vary between a formula of sodium hypochlorite and another when all that matters is its power to disinfect, but there we stand, looking, and comparing them like they were Swiss chocolates.

But, centuries before the supermarket as we know it, lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who argued for the existence of free will, affirming that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his thesis imagined a situation in which a donkey faces two mounds of hay, and in its infinite doubt of which is the most appetizing, it cannot decide and thus dies of hunger.

It is a paradox according to some, because even while able to eat, the donkey does not because it cannot decide which mound is better (both appear the same). But, far from making me think about the place of reason in decision making, this story brings up a question about the donkey. And I ask not what the donkey does, but rather what it knows. And, more specifically, I ask whether it recognizes that it does not know which is the best decision possible.

The non-existent and newly coined paradox of the cart (of supermarkets, not speedways) shows that the frustration created around time lost in selecting an item is directly proportional to the irrelevance of the decision to our lives. In other words, this is what happens when you look at bottles of bleach wondering which to take: one sodium hypochlorite formula may vary little from another when what interests you is its ability to disinfect and yet, there we are, looking at and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before the existence of supermarkets, as we know them, lived Jean Buridan—the French philosopher who defended the existence of freewill and affirmed that any decision could be made by way of reason. In response, some of his critics imagined a scenario in which a donkey, facing two stacks of hay and the never-ending question of which is more appetizing, is incapable of deciding and dies of hunger.

To some, this involves a paradox: though capable of eating, it does not because it is incapable of deciding which stack is more advisable (as they seem alike). But far from making me think of the role of reason in decision-making, this story raises a question about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what it does or does not do, but rather what it knows and, more specifically, if it knows that it does not know what the best possible decision is.

According to the gondola paradox (the supermarket, not the Venice variety), though non-existent - seeing that I have just this minute coined the phrase- the frustration caused by the time wasted in choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision for our lives. In other words, it is what happens when you are left staring at bins full of bleach wondering which one to choose. Surely, when all that matters is their ability to disinfect, there cannot be much difference between one sodium hypochlorite solution and another, and yet you stand there gazing at the array of bottles and comparing them like so many Swiss chocolates.

However, centuries earlier, long before the supermarket as we know it came into being, lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended the existence of free will, and who held that any decision can be made based on the use of reason. In response to this claim, some critics posited a situation where an ass, placed between two haystacks and undecided as to which is the more appetizing, is unable to choose and ends up dying of hunger.

Some considered this to be a paradox, as although the ass is able to eat, it fails to do so because it cannot decide which pile of hay is the best (since they appear the same). And yet I wonder, not about what the ass does or fails to do, but what it knows. And more specifically, if it knows that it does not know which is the best decision to make.

The paradox of the aisle (at the supermarket, not a wedding) – which doesn’t exist but I just coined – dictates that the frustration generated by the time lost while selecting a product is directly proportional to the decision’s irrelevance in our life. In other words, it’s what happens when you’re standing there staring at jugs of bleach and don’t know which one to pick up. There’s probably not much difference between one sodium hypochlorite solution and the next when all you’re interested in is its disinfection power, but there we are, staring and comparing jugs as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Yet centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, French philosopher Jean Buridan championed the existence of free will, asserting that it’s possible to make any decision by using reason. Some critics of his stance responded by imagining the situation of an ass presented with two stacks of hay: when faced with infinite doubt over which stack is most appetising, it can’t decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, this constitutes a paradox, since even though the ass has the opportunity to eat, it doesn’t because it’s unable to decide which stack is best (both seem the same to it). But far from making me consider the role of reason in decision-making, this story sparks in me a question about the ass. What I wonder is not what the ass does or doesn’t do, but what does it know? And, more specifically, whether it knows that it doesn’t know which is the best possible decision?

The paradox of the gondola (the supermarket, not the one in Venice)—which doesn’t exist, and I coined just now—demonstrates how the frustration generated by the time wasted in selecting a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of such a decision in our lives. To put it another way, it’s what happens when you are left staring at bleach canisters without knowing which one to take. There can be little difference between one formula of sodium hypochlorite and another when what matters is its disinfecting power, and yet there we stand, looking at and comparing canister as if they were Swiss chocolates.

Centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it today, there lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended free will and maintained that it was possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his stance presented the scenario of a donkey in front of two haystacks. Faced with the infinite doubt of which one was more appetizing, it is incapable of deciding and dies of hunger.

Some say we are dealing with a paradox, because even though it could eat, it doesn’t do so since it cannot decide which stack is more convenient (both stacks look the same to it). However, far from making me think about the role of reason in decision making, to me this story raises a question about the donkey. What I wondered is, it’s not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, rather what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows that it doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

The supermarket (not Venice) gondola paradox, which does not exist, and I just coined, states that the frustration caused by time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to how irrelevant that decision is to our lives. In other words, it is what happens when someone stares at bottles of bleach without knowing which one to choose. Other than their disinfecting strength, there is not much difference between one bleach formula and another. Yet, we stay there looking at and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before supermarkets as we know them existed, the French philosopher Jean Buridan argued that free will exists and that it is possible to use reason when making decisions. In response, some of his critics imagined a donkey standing in front of two piles of hay, and because of endlessly questioning which is more appealing, it is unable to decide and ends up starving to death.

According to some, this is a paradox: the donkey, although able to eat, does not do so because it cannot decide which one of the similar piles of hay it prefers. But far from making me think about what role reason plays in decision-making, this story raises a question about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or does not do, but what it knows. More specifically, I wonder if it is aware that it does not know what is the better decision.

The gondola paradox ("gondola" referring to the technical term for supermarket shelving, and not that of Venice), a non-existent term that I have just coined, establishes that the amount of time wasted choosing a product is directly proportionate to how irrelevant this decision is to our lives. For example, when you stand staring at containers of bleach without knowing which one to pick. There may be little difference between one that contains sodium hypochlorite and one that is a powerful disinfectant, but nonetheless we stand there, perusing and comparing containers as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before supermarkets existed as we know them lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who upheld the existence of free will and maintained that any decision can be made using reason. Some critics of his stance have likened it to an ass standing in front of two piles of hay who, having lingering doubt over which would be the most tasty, is unable to choose between them and dies of hunger.

This is a paradox, some say, as the ass could eat but doesn't because he can't decide which pile is best (both piles look the same to him). But far from leading me to ponder the role of reason in decision making, this makes me wonder about the ass. I don't wonder about what the ass does or doesn't do, but what he knows; more specifically, whether he is aware that he doesn't know which decision is the best.

The nonexistent paradox of the gondola (in the supermarket, not in Valencia), which I just coined, demonstrates that the frustration created by time wasted choosing a product is directly proportional to the insignificance of that decision for our lives. In other words, it is what happens when one stares at bleach bottles without knowing which to take. Little can vary between a formula of sodium hypochlorite and another when the important thing is its disinfecting power; and nevertheless, there we stand, looking at and comparing bottles as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who lived centuries before the existence of the supermarket as we know it, defended the existence of free will and ascertained that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his stance imagined the situation of a donkey in front of piles of hay. Faced with the infinite doubt of which is the most appetizing, it cannot decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, it depicts a paradox as it is able to eat but doesn’t because it can’t decide which pile is best (both piles seem the same to him). But far from making me think about the role of reason in the decision-making process, this story rouses a question about the donkey in me. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows that it doesn’t know which is the best possible decision.

The paradox of the aisle (not the one a bride walks down, the supermarket aisle), which isn’t real and which I’ve just made up, stipulates that the frustration caused by the time lost while choosing a product is directly proportional to how little bearing that choice has on our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when you’re stood looking at jugs of bleach without knowing which to get. There’s not much difference between one that contains sodium hypochlorite and another one when what matters is how well it disinfects, and yet we stand there, looking at and comparing jugs like they’re Swiss chocolates.

However centuries before the supermarket as we know it came to be, there lived Jean Buridan. The French philosopher defended the existence of free will and held it is possible to make any sort of decision by using reason. In response, some critics of his position conceived a situation where an ass, before two stacks of hay and racked with infinite indecision over which is the most appetising, cannot make up its mind and starves to death.

For some, what we have here is a paradox, as while it is able to eat, it does not because it cannot decide which stack is more convenient (both seem equal to the ass). Rather than making me think about the role reason plays in the making of decisions – far from it – this story awoke in me a question regarding the ass; what I ask myself is not what the ass is or isn’t doing, it’s what it knows and, more specifically, if it knows it doesn’t know what the best possible decision is.

The paradox of the gondola (in the supermarket, not in Venice), which does not exist and I have just coined, states that the frustration generated by the time lost choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. In other words, it’s what happens when one stares at cans of bleach without knowing which one to take. There may be only a small difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and another when it comes to disinfecting power, but there we stand, looking at and comparing the cans as if they were Swiss chocolates.

But centuries before supermarkets as we know them existed, there lived Jean Buridan, a French philosopher who defended the existence of free will and stated that it is possible to make any decision using reason. In response, some critics of his position imagined the situation of a donkey faced by two stacks of hay, that given its infinite doubt regarding which is the most appetizing, can’t decide and dies of hunger.

This is, according to some, a paradox, because although he can eat, he doesn’t, because he can’t decide which stack is best (they both seem the same). But far from making me think about the role of reason in decision making, for me, this story raises a question about the donkey. And what I wonder isn’t what the donkey does or doesn’t do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows that it doesn't know which is the best possible decision.

The gondola paradox (the supermarket one, not the Venice one) -which does not exist and that I just invented- establishes that the time we lose selecting a product causes us frustration that is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. In other words, it is what happens when you stop to look at jugs of bleach, not knowing which to get. One formula of sodium hypochlorite versus another may only slightly vary when what interests you is its disinfection power, and yet, there we are, looking at and comparing jugs as though they were Swiss chocolates. 

But centuries before the existence of supermarkets as we know them lived Jean Buridan, the French philosopher who argued for the existence of free will and asserted that it is possible to make any decision using reasoning. In response, some critics of his position envisioned this scenario: A donkey with two piles of hay before it, faced with the infinite uncertainty of which is the most appealing, cannot decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, it is a paradox, considering that though able to eat, it does not because it cannot decide which pile is more convenient (both piles look the same). But far from making me think about the role of reasoning in decision-making, for me, this story brings up a question about the donkey. And what I wonder is not what the donkey does or does not do, but what it knows. And, more specifically, if it knows that it does not know which is the best possible decision.

The paradox of the gondola (the supermarket, not the Venice one), a term I have just coined that doesn't actually exist, asserts that the frustration generated by the wasted time when choosing a product is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision to our lives. In other words, this is what happens when you get lost into staring at cans of bleach trying pick the right one. Surely there can be no significant difference between the sodium hypochlorite formula and another one, when the only thing that matters is its ability to disinfect. Yet here we are, looking and comparing cans as if they were Swiss chocolate.

However, centuries before the advent of the supermarket as we know it, the French philosopher Jean Buridan known for defending the existence of free will, was asserting that it is possible to arrive at any decision by means of reason. In response, some critics of his position imagined the scenario of a donkey before two stacks of hay. Faced with the infinite dilemma as to which stack could be the tastiest, the donkey cannot decide and dies of hunger.

According to some, this is a paradox, since the donkey doesn't go for the food despite being able to do so, simply because it cannot decide which stack is the best for him (both stacks looking the same). But far from making me reflect on the role of reason in decision-making, for me this story raises a question about the donkey. My question is not what the donkey does or doesn't do, but what it knows. More to the point, does it know that it doesn't know what the best possible decision is.

The gondola supermarket paradox isn't a actually a thing, even in Venice, but rather a term I've just invented. It sets out that the frustration one feels agonising over which product to buy is directly proportional to the irrelevance of that decision in our lives. To put it another way, it's what happens when we find ourselves staring at row upon row of washing powders, unable to decide which is best. There can't be much difference between one sodium hypochlorite formula and the next, and all that matters is is whether it disinfects or not, yet we stand there, staring and comparing packages as if contemplating which Swiss chocolate to pick.

However many years before the advent of the modern supermarket, Jean Buridan, French philosopher and defender of free will, claimed that any decision can be made by simply applying reason. In response, some of those who criticised his stance came up with the following scenario: a donkey faces two mounds of hay, yet because it can't use reason alone to decide which mound is tastier, it can never choose so eventually it starves to death.

This is what some might call a paradox. It could eat but doesn't because it can't decide which mound is best (both piles look the same). Anyhow, this tale doesn't make me think about the role of reasoning when making decisions, far from it. Instead, it makes me question the donkey. I don't question what the donkey does or doesn't do, but rather what it knows. And more specifically, does it know that it doesn't know which is the best possible decision?