Are We Too Kind, or Is Society Too Materialistic?

A few days ago, I hired a worker to complete a manual task, and I joined him in carrying it out. When the time came to settle the payment, I asked him about his fee, to which he replied, "100." I handed it over immediately, without haggling, for I perceived in him a sense of honesty and a meticulous attention to detail—qualities that made me feel he deserved it. Later, however, when my aunt inquired about the amount, she was taken aback by what I had paid, deeming it excessive, especially since I had assisted in the work. From her perspective, the wage ought to have been lower.

This wasn’t merely a difference in judgment; it unveiled a personal tendency of mine to make decisions swayed by fleeting emotions, rather than adhering to a more balanced set of standards. Was I truly fair, or had I let sentiment cloud my judgment, neglecting a clear framework for valuing the wage?

On the other hand, have we, as a society, grown accustomed to undervaluing manual labor—so much so that haggling over it has become second nature? Perhaps the fault wasn’t entirely my aunt’s or mine, but rather a reflection of our collective mindset, one we’ve rarely paused to reconsider. We often haggle with workers over their earnings, yet we splurge extravagantly on our own purchases without a second thought.

This paradox reveals a flaw in our conception of value. Wages are dictated by the harsh metrics of the market, while the inflated prices of our acquisitions are justified by personal desire, the pursuit of social status, or the allure of marketing tactics rooted in scarcity.

Value is an elusive notion. When I pay a worker without negotiation, I am honoring his effort and demeanor, whereas society often views labor through the lens of a cold economic equation: "How much was accomplished? How much did the other party contribute? Therefore, how much is he worth?"

But can value be confined to mere material calculations?

The German philosopher Karl Marx argued that capitalism reduces a person to a commodity, where labor is measured not by its essence or the worker’s expertise, but by its replaceability in the marketplace. This might explain why, over time, society tends to diminish the worth of manual labor. Perhaps that’s why my aunt was surprised by the sum I paid—she viewed it through an economic lens, where a wage is determined by the hours spent and the prevailing market rate. I, however, saw it differently, taking into account not just the time invested, but also the quality of the work and the skill he demonstrated in executing it.

My actions may have been shaped by various influences. My perception of the work’s value was colored by the positive impression the worker left—his mastery and care for detail prompted me to appreciate his effort beyond mere cost. Conversely, pure economic reasoning seeks to minimize expenses at all costs, creating a tension between the instinct for fairness and the principle of saving. Perhaps my decision also stemmed from an inner desire to affirm my moral values, reinforcing my self-image as someone who doesn’t shortchange others. I felt at ease after paying him, but when my aunt questioned it, I slipped into a state of cognitive dissonance, caught between two opposing perspectives:

My mind said, "I was just to the worker."

Yet society countered, "You paid more than you should have."

At that moment, my mind began grappling to reconcile this conflict—either by justifying my choice as the morally right one or by reevaluating it and conceding I might have overpaid. And here lies the confusion: Was I overly idealistic? Or has the world grown so materialistic that fairness now seems extravagant?

If appreciating effort is truly a pure and humane act, why do we sometimes feel bewildered or regretful after doing so? The answer lies in our constant struggle to balance emotional impulses with economic standards, searching for an internal scale of personal justice that feels both reasoned and fair. After all, even our most rational decisions carry an emotional undercurrent.

Yet there are considerations we might heed—agreeing on a wage beforehand to avoid decisions driven purely by sentiment, and distinguishing between fairness and excess. Appreciation need not mean overindulgence, nor should it entail diminution. However, some actions don’t require constant justification; they may not align with societal norms yet feel right on a personal level.

Perhaps I wasn’t extravagant, perhaps I was simply human in a world that evaluates everything through the prism of cost-cutting and self-interest.

And so the question lingers: Are We Too Kind, or Is Society Too Materialistic? Should we adapt to this 6materialistic world, or should we spark change through our small, deliberate acts?