there's no such thing as free shoes

Out: Freud, In: Foraging

In Economics class in high school, I remember my teacher, Mr. Williams, teaching us about “opportunity cost”. To illustrate the concept, he referenced the Nobel Psychologist Milton Friedman and his use of the phrase “there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

I was intrigued and listened intently during this lesson while he described its meaning. It seemed simple enough: even when something appears “free,” there’s always a cost hidden somewhere.

For example, if you spend time and money on a night out at the movies, you're sacrificing the opportunity to do something else—like reading a book or working on a project. That’s the opportunity cost: the value of what you give up in exchange for what you get. At the time, this realization felt a bit like a buzzkill. Nothing in life is truly free? Really?? It was a hard pill to swallow.

I remember a few other things from this Psychology class: Pavlov and his dogs, Maslow and his hierarchy of needs, Freud and his superego—famous old white guys who seemed to have all the answers. They felt like historical relics, not modern truths. Boring, am I right?

Well, you’re lucky you’ve found me. It’s time somebody (dare I say a woman *gasp*) gave that whole “no free lunch” idea a makeover. Because in 2025, I think we’re all ready for a fresh perspective, and who doesn’t love a rebrand??

Introducing the popular psychological concept: “There’s no such thing as free shoes.” (they better put a good picture of me in the textbooks…)

A deep dive into this theory:

Two weeks ago, my friends and I ventured across the Bay Bridge for an afternoon of thrifting. We struck gold at a Crossroads Trading Co. (sorry, I’m totally gatekeeping the location because it was that good). I walked out with a haul that came straight out of my dreams: a pair of stunning red snakeskin Nine West knee-high boots, a brand-new-with-tags Reformation linen dress, the most flattering pair of Aritzia pants I’ve ever owned, and—wait for it—a pair of pristine Stuart Weitzman sandals.

My jaw dropped when I saw the price tag on the sandals: 50% off of $60! Naturally, I looked up the style of the shoe on the brand’s website: Cayman 35 Block Slide—$395. I could practically hear angels singing as I threw the shoes to into my shopping cart. There’s something about scoring designer footwear at thrift store prices that feels almost primal—like it’s coded in our DNA, passed down from our foraging ancestors in the hunter-gatherer era.

Naturally, I was feeling pretty good about my scavenge when I returned home and took everything out of the bag to reexamine my treasures. Feeling pretty smug, I proudly boasted to my roommate, “I can’t believe I got all of this for just $90!” But as soon as I said it out loud, something felt... off. Even my math-challenged brain was raising alarms. I compared the price tags to the receipt and, to my delight horror, discovered that the store had forgotten to charge me for the sandals. I was standing there with a pair of $395 shoes... for free.

Now, before you all come for me: the store was 45 minutes away, closed for the night, and I was leaving early the next day for a trip to Hawaii. There was simply no time to be a morally righteous person, and I figured the Universe had simply gifted me these shoes. I’m a good person. I pay my taxes. I donate to charity. Just let me have my free shoes!

I packed the shoes as a last-minute addition in my suitcase, and headed to Hawaii to enjoy the sun and celebrate Christmas. It was my first time in Waikiki, and to be honest, I wasn’t prepared for the sheer volume of tourists and shopping. It felt like walking through the Las Vegas Strip. My senses were overwhelmed by all the signs and endless stores.

On Christmas Eve day, I had a few hours to myself before my family’s lunch plans at the Ritz-Carlton on the North Shore. I figured it would be an opportune time to visit the Ala Moana Center for some last-minute holiday shopping. I threw on a long, breezy dress and as a last-minute decision, swapped out my worn-out Tory Burches for my new “free” sandals (because, hey, we were going to the Ritz!) before heading out on my little shopping adventure.

Now, I know you’ve been wondering how these “free shoes” were going to bite me in the butt... Well, it wasn’t long before I got really lost in the massive 4-story outdoor shopping center. I was wandering around like a confused tourist, staring at the map on my phone. After what felt like an eternity of escalator-climbing and dead-ends, I headed back down an escalator in a huff and somehow lost my balance. Suddenly I was tumbling down the escalator, cheese-grating my leg along the sharp edges. Ouch. The slick escalator and my new, fresh-soled shoes were a bad combination.

The result? Several deep gashes on my leg, blood dripping onto the pristine mall floor, and me, mortified, limping my way through the center. I eventually found a CVS, and then an urgent care facility, where I ended up with a $350 medical bill.

As I sat there in the urgent care, waiting to be patched up, the irony of it all hit me. Even though I was in pain, I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. My free shoes—they weren’t so free after all, were they? I promptly texted my friend my revelation.

And even though it’s party just a silly story, I did actually learn something about life from this ridiculous sequence of events.

If you think about it, half of life is really just luck. There’s good luck and there’s bad luck. Sometimes you’re blessed with the good kind of luck: getting the front row parking spot, someone pays for your coffee, winning the lottery. Other times you get a dose of the bad stuff: getting a flat tire, stepping in dog poop (in SF you really have to hope it’s from a dog…), getting a speeding ticket. Life is a mix of the good and the bad, all part of the unpredictable ride.

This morning, while I was taking out the trash, I spotted a lucky penny lying on the street. I couldn’t help but grin as I picked it up, thinking about the lesson I learned from my "free shoes" debacle: sometimes luck is on your side, sometimes it isn’t. But there’s always a price to pay—whether it’s in money, time, or experience. Life has a way of balancing things out.

So while “there’s no such thing as a free lunch” may still hold true, maybe it’s time to update it for a new generation.

After all, there’s no such thing as free shoes either.

walk boldly,

Caroline