It’s been a lovely afternoon of wandering the flea market, enjoying the crowd and the diversity of antiques and vintage curiosities. You pick up a small silver fork and wonder why its tongs curve outward so delicately. You turn it over, note a hallmark of some sort, feel its weight in your hand, then glance at the price tag to confirm your suspicion of the object’s worth.
Then you reach for the porcelain vase, with its soft blue design of vines and blossoms. Next, an appealing piece of heavy glass, and again, you check the price.
You move on to the furniture dealer’s stall, running your hand across the worn surface of a drop leaf dining table. You recognize its tapered legs and pad feet, and your fingers feel along its underside for the telltale signs of legitimacy to its claim of age. Again, the price informs you – of potential value – or something to walk away from.
Each time you consult a price, you assess. But what exactly are you assessing?
What is the connection in our minds between price and value?
- Does a low price convince us that we’ve found a bargain?
- Or do we shake our heads and realize that the object must be a fake?
- Does a low price or no price mean little or no worth?
- Is a high price reassurance that we are in possession of “value?”
Pricing in business
When we set a price for goods or services in business, we are – of course – seeking to profit, seeking to sustain a viable enterprise that will continue to thrive. We price according to a variety of market and competitive factors, not to mention the costs involved in producing, testing, insuring, stocking, distributing, marketing, servicing and continuously improving what we offer for sale.
We also price according to psychological factors. A higher price implies value; it may even ensure a certain exclusivity (thus bolstering demand) – as with designer or luxury goods and services. We assume quality, as substantiated by an elevated price.
Valuing ourselves: price tags on relationships
In personal relationships price and value are always at play. Some of us give ourselves away – our love, our support, our knowledge and assistance. We do so, thinking it is the right thing to do – the only thing to do – in family units, in communities. Those who are lucky receive in kind. Unfortunately, for many of us, in giving so much away the perceived value of our services (love, affection, assistance) begins to fade. All too often, so does our self-esteem.
In a traditional model of marriage, some choose to tacitly (or expressly) require outward signs of value. The expensive vacation. The upgraded diamond rather than the engagement ring from a decade earlier. The credit card bills that will be paid, no questions asked. The material, in exchange for the domestic, the emotional, the hard work of running a household and raising children.
Whether you agree with this or not (whether you judge it or not), it remains a legitimate model of exchange – and value.
Exchange of services
If I give away my writing in a professional context, then it is devalued. I have done this in the past, as a favor, or for individuals I wished to support, who had no funds to pay me. Some appreciated what I did, and I was delighted. Others sought to take more and more, gratis, leaving me feeling less and less in control and certainly, as though what I provided was neither valued nor respected. And clearly, I cannot pay my mortgage with gratitude – or by giving away my professional services.
To some extent, each of us gives ourselves away – here – in this “virtual salon,” as described on Motherese by Bruce of Privilege of Parenting. We share by choice, exchanging in something like equal measure. We are a sort of collective pool of learning and listening. This is not the way our society’s machinery works, yet it seems to work for a selected group of us.
Our currency of exchange is not dollars and cents, but words, ideas, laughter, and recognition. Kindness, as we stand by each other. Compassion, as we stand each other up in a world that would knock us down, divide us, isolate us, diminish our value in the private places of self where we have no precedence for pricing. Yet we know our need for a sense of worth.
The value of a price
I believe in price tags, just as I believe in the adage “you get what you pay for.” We price our output and our efforts, our knowledge and skills, and the work we do daily, whatever it may be. It is the payment method that varies – for parenting, partnering, or producing in other ways.
Even if the price does not equate to deposits into a bank account, it reflects value. It will mirror that we are respected and appreciated, or not. It will be expressed in behavior, in the provisions of a comfortable life, in sustenance for the soul.
Just as I might examine an antique closely, knowing precisely what to look for to assure that the pricing is a fair indication of value, so too do I understand that value is personal, changeable, and negotiable. Although I hold to the validity of “you get what you pay for,” ultimately, I insist that we do best when we trust our gut – with a bit of due diligence all the same. At times, we are given gifts of enormous value, and with no price tag. Except perhaps to pay it forward.
Your piece popped up in my Google Reader right after one about whether or not “mommy bloggers” should blog for free. I think I missed the context of that particular post (it seemed to be part of a larger conversation), but it was still on my mind as I read yours and now I’m thinking about the value I derive from writing and connecting with this community online. The experience is both priceless and value-full. And since I still don’t know where I’m heading career-wise, whether as a writer or otherwise, I don’t think too much (yet?) about dollars and cents as it connects to this world. But I do often think about the interesting commingling in this Virtual Salon; are those of us writing for free devaluing the work of those who would like to be writing for pay? Just an inkling of an idea that bounces around my cluttered brain from time to time.
It’s an interesting observation, Kristen. And warrants serious discussion. But I might amend your question to read: … devaluing the work of those of us who were writing for pay, and have lost our means to support ourselves.
There is no question that “writing for free” the very sorts of things for which we used to be paid is a real problem, certainly for those of us who depend upon our skills as writers to feed our families. But if we do not write, we do not keep up our skills. And for those of us for whom writing has always been more “live to work” than “work to live” the issue is even more complicated.
Thanks for thinking about value. I re-read “you get what you pay for” a couple of times. I’ve found that to be true. I also thought about “the more you give the more you get.” I’ve found that to be true. Then I thought about the value of each day that is provided for me, for which I haven’t paid or given…
I guess for me, wherever the value comes from, it reminds me to say thank you when I receive it. Thank you.
And thank you, Jim. For this kind recognition.
This line of research in consumer psychology is fascinating to me! Discount products vs. luxury goods, the connection between price and perceived quality, the positive feelings of a “good deal.” I love it! It’s amazing how a different price tag on the same item can totally change our perspective.
When I’m shopping – for clothes or housewares especially – I like to stop and ask, “How much do I think this is worth?” or “How much would I be willing to pay for this?” before checking the price. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised when the asking price is lower, sometimes I’m shocked at how much more expensive it is.
I don’t have any answers to this new world of publishing we’re in, the writing quality content without pay. On one hand, I’m so delighted to be able to read as much as I do, to learn and reflect and be entertained. And I’m happy for this chance to write and share my thoughts with others. But I’m not sure what is sustainable in the long run…
I have a hard time understanding my value as a writer, since I blog for free. I do think my writing is valuable. It’s something I struggle with – setting a price.
I find valuing my work to be a difficult process for me. I understand the many tenets – a client getting what he/she pays for, value =/or is comparable to cost, time for research, etc. – that go into pricing writing but I still find it difficult.
I also find it hard to compete with those who are willing to sell for the lower prices, yet I need income. Do I succumb and take the lower price and just crank out more? Do I hold my integrity and make due with less work and stretching the budget some?
Hoo-boy. The part about value in relationships hit me hard this morning. The inequity of it all, and the way I allow it. I spent an entire hour this morning feeding 3 children…children who demanded 3 different things for breakfast. Clearly, I need to work on some boundaries. And do something to make money, because this morning, 3 kids=a dozen eggs. Growth spurt, anyone?
As always, you give me such interesting stuff to think about.
Ah, Kitch. This morning I’m giving myself much to think about, as I walk through the door, carless, having just left my vehicle at a garage, and not knowing what’s wrong or what it will cost… Yet one more unexpected expenditure (and inconvenience). Can’t pay for car repairs with ability to cook eggs or whip up a mean paragraph, you know? Yes. Money. It may not make the world go ’round, but everything chugs to a halt without it. (My empathy on the custom meals, by the way.)
Great things to think about. Brings to mind certain gifts I did not fully recognize when I received them, but which have really grown on me—concrete things like a Thai Buddha my parents gave me when I first got an office, an inkwell my mother-in-law gave me that once sat on the desk of a founding rancher/legislator in Montana, a piece of scrimshaw my father picked up years ago in Alaska…
And I also think of some sense of absolute value. For something to be expensive we need a concept of worthless, and devaluation always lurks behind inflation. I was thinking of how the highest price ever paid for a work of art, is still only ten percent of certain hedge-fund manager’s yearly income. What does this say about how our culture values things; and who can assess spiritual wealth? (at least they cannot tax that).
As a psychologist I have learned that one can indeed be too thin and too rich… as Elvis Costello sings, “he’d seen love get so expensive but he’d never seen love so dear.”
Here’s to valuing craft, sincerity, love and connecting—and to valuing the well-being of each other in the recognition that it is nothing less than the well being of our best and most embracing Selves.