The paradox of abundance: A paper towel theory
If we have more than enough, when do we stop?
There is a certain comfort and convenience in abundance, which I imagine helps explain in part the rise of warehouse-style stores like Costco.
In theory, at least, shopping in bulk saves you money and time. Instead of buying one of something for $5, you can buy three for $12. Forget about these eight-packs of sparkling water. Those are for amateur carbonation enthusiasts. Here, instead, is a pallet of 35. This will last for a while and save money.
And then we arrive at the individually packaged snacks, which are inevitably seen as you both enter the store and as you head toward the checkout. Our kids start to beg us for the saltiest and most satisfying among them, fixing their gazes longingly on the 40-pack box of Pirate’s Booty.
I’m doing price calculations in my head and thinking about how many easy snacks and lunch additions could be covered by this one big box. Sure, I decide, we can get it.
“Can we have some when we get home?” our two youngest kids ask almost immediately, even though we are taking advantage of one of the last bargains in America and dining at the Costco food court.
“You guys are having lunch right now. Why do you need a snack?” I ask, but they are undeterred. “Fine, each of you can have one when we get home.”
I feel like we have reached a harmonious compromise, but really the negotiations have just begun.
After sort of eating their pizza, our 8-year-old and 5-year-old hop in the minivan and remind me that they get to have Pirate’s Booty at home. After a short drive, we have barely opened the door to the house before they start asking for it.
I fetch it out of the trunk, help them open the box and then remind them: Just one bag. I try to explain that we bought a big box so that it would last for a while. They nod vaguely and tear into their bags.
About 47 seconds later (these are not big bags, folks), they both ask for another one.
“You guys, we already talked about this,” I said, moderately annoyed. “One bag. That’s it for now.”
But all they see is a giant box and all the Pirate’s Booty they could ever want. The younger one is simultaneously trying to make himself something to drink and is spilling water everywhere.
I reach for the paper towel roll, rip a bunch of individual sheets off without much thought — and remember suddenly that I am guilty of the very same behavior.
In my head, never articulated to anyone until now, I have referred to this as “The Paper Towel Theory.”
When the paper towel roll is nearly full, and I know that we have many more rolls in reserve, I am often very cavalier about my usage. The size of the job and the relative paper towel needs can become irrelevant. Grab two or three sheets. Maybe four. There are plenty more.
When the paper towel roll is nearly empty, and especially if I know we need to buy more at the store, I become a paper towel inventory specialist. If there is a spill on the ground, I will grab a reusable towel. If we are using them in place of napkins, I might gingerly tear one sheet off the roll, fold it over and then rip it in half. We must protect our most precious natural resource, the paper towel, at all costs.
Within this cycle, abundance becomes a paradox: The more we have, the more we use. The more we use without intention, the faster it will run out.
Wondering if this was a “me” problem or something that afflicts others, I did some very unscientific research over the weekend and asked this question on two different social media platforms:
If you know you have a lot of something in the moment (money, paper towels, snacks) does it make you more inclined to use more than you need?
On Twitter/X, I was able to include a poll. With more than a hundred responses, that poll was almost evenly split between “yes” and “no” with a handful of “it depends.” Among those who wrote replies, here were a few highlights:
100%! I need to give myself artificial limits — and try to forget that it’s artificial — to stop myself from using everything of whatever the thing is.
Paper towels and freezer/sandwich bags especially used more freely when a large supply is on hand.
Not especially, no. I'm guessing it's a habit that leaked into normal life from life in the kitchen.
Money, yes. Impulse buys are something I need to curb in 2025.
It felt good to know that I wasn’t alone, and that regardless of whether someone answered yes or no there was often some conscious recognition of the behavior along the way.
How you answer the question could have something to do with whether you grew up with abundance and/or the impact of some temporary scarcity during the COVID-19 pandemic.
I do feel, though, like this is generally a privileged and recent struggle in our evolution. “How do I stop eating all this food I have?” is not something I imagine my ancestors even a few generations back struggled to manage.
That said, I’m also not saying we should head to the other extreme and embrace scarcity. Life is not about depravation, nor it is always about walking up to a line and then stopping at the exact spot where it is prudent.
It feels good to not worry if you have enough.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence, though, that I found myself ruminating on this subject during a week when wildfires raged throughout the Los Angeles area.
A generous reading of an abundance mindset suggests that we will be more grateful for what we have, which of course is a nice idea. My “Paper Towel Theory” and the lived experience of so many of you suggests otherwise: We might appreciate what we have, but that doesn’t stop us from wanting more or using more than we need.
Taking four sheets of a paper towel roll when two would suffice didn’t cause tragedy in California, but similar actions compounded trillions of times create a scale that reveals a collective toll.
A lingering awareness that our actions impact climate change are part of an undercurrent of existential dread that has gripped many of us, undercutting our ability to enjoy the present or be optimistic about the future.
It becomes easier to escape this cycle, though, if we do two things: 1) Believe that small behavior modifications can have a significant positive cumulative effect, even as we acknowledge that larger changes are also necessary; 2) Understand that the very definition of abundance is “more than enough,” and that in the case of consumption “enough” is already a privilege.
Thinking about that is enough for me to want to clean up my own act.
One paper towel at a time.
This is what free markets do. Famously, Boris Yeltsin abandoned communism not long after a visit to an American grocery store (see here for the details https://blog.chron.com/thetexican/2014/04/when-boris-yeltsin-went-grocery-shopping-in-clear-lake/). If I'm recalling the story correctly, he actually made two grocery store visits during his trip to the US. Khruschev made a similar visit to a Quality Foods supermarket in San Francisco during his 1959 visit to the United States, at the invitation of then President Dwight Eisenhower.
This topic is definitely important. People's tendency to use more than they need--whether that be food, clothing, or other consumer "goods"--creates problems for our society. Indeed, the environment suffers, shildren's perspectives on needs vs. wants suffer, adults voting habits suffer when they support candidates who merely promise to satisfy the voters' immediate desires. Growing up in a lower-middle class home, I learned to be careful about what I bought, although now that I'm an adult and have enough to live comfortably, indulgences also improve my mental and emotional state. Yet, I usually don't go overboard and am, generally, still aware of not wasting money. Would society improve if people recognized that mere consumerism, just immediately fleeting satisfaction, to the exclusion of lasting happiness, robs them of essential parts of their lives? Absolutely.