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As I stood in front of the class, I could feel the tips of my fingers tingling with anxiety. The cooling sensation swiftly flushed it’s way up my arms and through my chest like an army of ants, dipping into my legs and engulfing my knees. My head flushed with a cool, empty breeze as the presentation behind me pixelated away like a broken television screen.
Undergraduate economics was a subject for which I held great respect yet enjoyed only moderate aptitude. I appreciated that it was an area of study in direct conversation with the “real world,” a focus sorely missing from my days in high school critically analyzing The Old Man and the Sea. Suddenly I was learning how to map desire and name the phenomena surrounding human decision making, a intricate dance of words and numbers I could finally appreciate.
To be sure, my admiration for the field peaked in Economics 101. Fred Smith, a man who’s voice was as unique and captivating as his name, led the daily lectures. But as he expounded upon the reasons we stop eating at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I found myself listening intently. He drew a graph illustrating the point at which the cost of consuming another cookie is greater than the satisfaction provided by said cookie, and I was sold.
Diminishing marginal utility was a subject I would come to know far too well as I continued my time on campus, most acutely when I stayed awake almost the entire night before my final presentation in Health Economics.
As I opened my eyes, I noticed several students towering over me. I felt my professor’s arms supporting my shoulders as someone handed me a wet paper towel. As I dabbed my forehead in shame, I debated explaining what may have been the cause of my sudden collapse, from the stress of finals week to the coffee I drank on an empty stomach. But there was no way out of my unfortunate hole.
To call my fainting episode a turning point would be to suggest that things got better. I continued to limp my way to the finish line of the economics minor, a badge of honor I continue to hold with fluctuating levels of contempt. Or, should I say, as a good or service that provides me varying levels of utility. I’m sure you could plot an indifference curve for that.