Last night, my son and I went to the Chris Stapleton concert at Jiffy Lube Live.
Technically.
We sat in traffic for over two hours, in the rain, and unintentionally missed the entire opening act.
We parked so far away from the stage that we had to walk nearly a mile in a wooded area just to reach the edge of the main parking lot.
It felt like we were fleeing the country in the middle of the night donning cowboy core while the faint murmur of Chris’ voice drifted in the distance.
And after finally getting within range of actually being at the amphitheater, we turned around and left.
We’d already spent more than two hours sitting in traffic in the rain.
We knew that to avoid the same fate on the back end, we’d probably have to leave the concert early.
And we simply weren’t up for it.
Someone my brother knows once said, after leaving a terrible theater production, “I’ve already wasted my money. Why waste my time?”
And they’re right.
But, But . . . I’ve Spent So Much on This!
I get it, I do.
I didn’t grow up with a lot of money, so when my family did things, we did them.
I don’t remember leaving anything early growing up. If money had been spent on something, we were going to get our money’s worth.
And apparently, some of that thinking is still rattling around in my brain.
I’ve written before about how time is precious, and there’s only so much of it.
Last night, I was already pretty exhausted from a very full week at work, and I knew I was heading into the weekend with a couple of photo shoots scheduled.
But I had bought these tickets to spend time with my only son. He had driven home from college specifically to go to the concert with me.
Darnit, we were going to go!
So despite being tired, we changed into our concert attire and set out.
Everything was moving along pretty well until we got within about 1.5 miles of the entrance to the venue.
And then we sat through several light changes.
And sat.
And sat.
We finally drove past the main parking lot and were directed to the next one.
And then the next one.
Until we finally reached a parking lot that felt like it was somewhere in West Egypt.
Apparently, somewhere along the way, I missed a subtle cue from my son that he was perfectly okay if we didn’t actually go.
Because after we parked and started our nearly mile-long pilgrimage toward the venue, he finally said something along the lines of:
“You know, we don’t have to stay.”
Oh.
Thank God.
The Money was Already Gone
There’s a mental battle we all face when we spend money on something and want to “get our money’s worth.”
It’s rooted in goodness; we don’t like to waste money.
But there’s a concept in economics called a sunk cost: money that has already been spent and can’t be recovered.
The tickets were paid for a while ago, and I’ve been living without that money ever since.
Whether we stayed for the entire concert, listened to three songs, or — as it turned out — never actually made it through the gates, the amount of money in my bank account was exactly the same.
The money was already gone.
What wasn’t gone yet was the rest of our evening.
And that’s where I think we sometimes get ourselves into trouble.
We focus so much on getting value from money we’ve already spent that we don’t stop to consider what else we’re about to spend trying to justify it.
More time.
More energy.
More aggravation.
Maybe even more money.
In our case, staying for the concert wouldn’t have recovered the cost of the tickets.
It would have meant walking the rest of the way to the venue in the rain, navigating a huge crowd, and then facing what we assumed would be another traffic nightmare on the way home.
Or, more realistically, we probably would have left the concert early to try to avoid it.
All to make sure we “got our money’s worth.”
At some point, you have to ask yourself:
Am I making this decision based on what I’ve already spent — or on what I actually want to do next?
Know When to Stop Spending
Sunk costs show up in a lot more places than concert tickets.
Maybe you’ve poured money into a home improvement project that isn’t working out.
Maybe you’ve paid for a class or membership you no longer want to use.
Maybe you’ve invested years into a career that no longer makes you happy.
In my professional life, I’ve seen people want to keep spending money on programs that clearly no longer have value.
The temptation is to think, I’ve already spent this much money, time, or effort. I can’t stop now.
But that’s exactly when it’s worth stopping to ask what you’re about to spend next.
Because you don’t get the original investment back by throwing more resources after it.
Sometimes cutting your losses isn’t wasting money.
It’s refusing to waste anything else.
Last night, my son and I could have continued our trek through the rain, made our way into the amphitheater, stayed for part of the concert, and then started strategizing about how early we needed to leave to beat the traffic home.
Instead, we turned around.
We talked and laughed on the walk back to the car. We stopped for gas on the way home.
And we were both perfectly happy with our decision.
Would I have preferred to see Chris Stapleton?
Absolutely.
But the money was already gone.
The rest of our night wasn’t.
Just because you’ve already invested time and money into something doesn’t mean you need to keep investing more.
🐝 That’s the buzz for today!